Chapter 7
Hours passed and the room grew darker, the noises grew louder, she could hear Zesiro shouting for backup as what sounded like dozens of feet thundered along the corridor. At least Zesiro had come back for her, but he was her guard and it was to be expected. Thalia was crying softly, her fingers digging into her own upper arms as she whispered in a language Alina couldn’t understand. The door splintered, even the furniture stacked before it couldn’t keep them out. They were here. She could be brave, for Thalia she could be brave.
“You stay here, I command it.” She touched Thalia’s arm, there were still some protections her status allowed her. Protection that Thalia would not receive. “Please, be safe.”
“Alina, don’t.” Thalia whispered. “I’ll go, let me distract them-“
“I wrote you a letter, it’s in my jewellery box.” Perhaps it was the only selfless thing she’d ever done, the gods knew she was apparently little more than a spoilt brat. The General told her often enough.
Summoning every scrap of bravery she could find she took a step out from behind the curtains, it was stupid really to be embarrassed by how scruffy she looked but it was what she felt. Her dress might be dirty, her hair free of adornments, her feet bare, she may not have any paint, any henna, anything denoting her status beyond the jewelled cuffs and necklace that the General wasn’t allowed to touch, but she was still a princess.
“What do you want?” For some foolish moment she felt a spark of hope, they’d bowed low in respect and she’d almost called for Thalia. But then they grabbed her.
The strongest man was the one who grabbed her, he had the same pale skin as the general but his hair was the pale yellow of Thalia’s as opposed to the dark brown of the General, but the colour of his hair didn’t matter when his arms were so tight around her that she could barely breathe. He didn’t even drag her, simply carrying her from the room as she struggled against him. The palace was in chaos, everywhere she looked was pockets of fighting, black smoke charred the white stone walls as they ran along the hallways. Whatever this was, it was an attack.
“Zesiro, Zesiro, find Thalia in my room!” She saw her guard fighting in the courtyard below. “I command it.”
Like Thalia, Zesiro would follow her command despite his reservations. It wasn’t that she was a martyr, there were many people in this court she’d throw before the sword to save her own skin, it was simply the obligation she felt for Thalia who had so dutifully suffered beside her every minute of the day. She shouted at the man to let her down, to unhand her, but he didn’t seem to understand her words and she was too frightened to think of the words in his language, what was more concerning was the way the soldiers from the palace looked at her with distrust. Even when she shouted for Marcus, a general who attended the dinners where she was forced to play the harp, he made no move to help her as he glowered at her. They simply didn’t care, they had the gold and she was simply an irritation.
As they approached the stairs the man carrying her let her slam to the floor as he drew his sword, but the tip of the sword sliced her forearm as she flailed. No one would care, of course. No one ever did. The sluggish pumping of her hearts barely kept her this side of awake, it was only adrenaline that made her elbows drag her forward as the men fought around her. A few feet caught her body, slamming into her side and stepping on her hands as she tried to free herself from this circle. But no one looked down, no one saw her desperately vying for freedom.
If Kari was here then he’d surely whisk her to safety, he’d fight off every single man in this place without even dirtying his shirt, he was a warrior like no other, he was probably the strongest man in the world, even once he’d jumped a high wall to retrieve a lost ribbon. Kari would have protected her. The heel to her face pulled her back to her senses, Kari wouldn’t save her, she was being trampled in the middle of the fray, everything was objectively terrible.
Another thunder of footsteps clattered along the corridor, but there was no indication of whose side they were on or who was winning. Foul smelling oil had spilt across the floor from a knocked over lamp and her kidnappers sandals were slipping as they fought, it was a stupid idea, incredibly dangerous, but it was all she had. It took a few more moments of shuffling before she was out of the fray and pulling the torch from the wall, the drop from the balcony was rather far so she’d have to try and run before she burnt to death.
Honestly it was quite disappointing, there was no wall of flames engulfing her captors and they didn’t crumble into ash, what actually happened was the oil caught alight and there were a few shouts as they moved away. The floor kept burning, a few men hit the flames from their tunics, but they were all very much alive. In the distracted frenzy she hobbled away, wincing as her foot caught on a smashed tile, but the men were calling her name as they searched for her, she needed another plan and quickly. There was a large vase that she could hide behind, it wasn’t the best spot but they were approaching.
“What are you doing?” One of the other Generals, Ambrose maybe, hissed as he appeared behind her. “You stupid girl, did you-“
“My room, in my room.” In her fear she couldn’t think of the words, and Thalia had spent hours teaching her the right words. “They took me!”
If she could then she would tell him all that had happened, that they needed to get rid of these men and flush out the rest, she’d tell him they were communicating by whistling, or that they were trying to kidnap her, but she didn’t know the right words. Ambrose didn’t wait for her to explain but instead shouted something behind him, he seemed to be laughing as he shoved her behind his back and raised his spear. He was laughing. They were under attack and he was laughing at something, even as his own soldiers rounded the corner did he continue to laugh. She could thank the General that she’d understood Ambrose’s words, he did call her a stupid girl almost daily.
“Run.” Ambrose gave her a shove as a herd of men headed towards them.
If she was brave then perhaps she’d have done something, taken the sword hanging from his belt and fought at his side, but she wasn’t brave and she’d never fought, even as a child she’d never so much as had her hair pulled. She didn’t run, or shout, or rough-house, she sat quietly and wove, or played the harp, or gossiped in the gardens, she did all that she was supposed to do. No, she could be brave. In a way that she able. There was a group of the General’s soldiers thundering towards her and she stumbled forward to meet them, but they dragged her arms and tried to pull her away. They were angry.
“This way, come this way and help.” She pulled back, but they didn’t understand her. “Help Ambrose, he’s over there.”
The mention of Ambrose’s name had them pausing slightly but they didn’t listen to her, of course they didn’t, they only listened when they heard Ambrose’s shouts echoing around the corridor and then they pushed past her to his aide. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, blood and scorched flesh, she wanted to cry, to vomit, to scream, but there wasn’t a single person in this wretched place who would help her. The barely even noticed her as they fought, swords clashed, feet stomped, men screamed in pain, all looking for her but none seeing her as she stumbled around the edges of the fray.
But there was the General, fighting valiantly in the main courtyard, he swung his sword as though it weighed less than a feather, flung his shield about as though the blows he received were the lightest of taps, thrust his sword as though the life on the other end meant nothing. It was a terrifying sight, but also probably the safest place she could think of. Her voice wouldn’t work to call him so she stumbled across the grass, feet slipping in pools of blood and stumbling over bodies, his sword felled the last of his assailants as the fighting began to die, his shield slammed into her face as she touched his tunic.
What happened next was mostly a blur, the General was shouting at her, or about her, she couldn’t really tell, as he carried her in his arms. A thought flitted across her mind that she was dying, that she should swallow her pride in her last moments and beg him to honour her wishes in regard to Thalia. But lately the gods had been playing with her, they didn’t care to give her an easy exit. No, not she. She lived.
Everything ached when she woke, but she was clean, the kind of clean that came after a hot bath, so clean that she could smell her cinnamon soap, she even had a nightgown, and the fire was blazing. Perhaps she had begged, maybe in her delirium she’d broken and begged for an ounce of kindness.
“Don’t move.” Thalia’s hand touched her shoulder as she tried to sit. “The physician says you mustn’t be moved, the General says I will be flogged if you do.”
“Is he-“
“He’s in the chair, watching us.” Thalia whispered. “He searched through your things again, but he found nothing.”
“Of course he found nothing, I’ve done nothing.” This room seemed oddly undamaged, even her trunk that had been tipped over was sitting upright against the wall. “Is there a mirror, my cheek aches.”
“I’m not to let you see your reflection, sorry Lina.” Thalia froze as the General said something. “He says if you are awake then you must eat, then I should begin your lessons.”
“You aren’t hurt?” Thalia looked mostly well.
“Zesiro protected me, he refused to leave my side until the fighting had ceased.” Thalia stood, probably to fetch some food. “I felt safe, I was safe with him.”
As Thalia left the room there was nothing but her own jagged breathing to puncture the silence, her feet were wrapped so tightly in something that she couldn’t move her toes, there was a bandage on her arm from wrist to elbow, everything that could hurt was in agony. But she was warm, clean, safe, well not safe, but warm and clean.
“Alina, you do not leave this room.” The General had made his way to her bedside so silently that his voice made her jump. “Do you understand?”
“I don’t, I’ve done nothing wrong.” She shifted, then froze as his hand held her down. “Even if you don’t like me, you could still be kind. If you were a real king, you would be kind.”
“Do not leave this room.” He went to touch her forehead, but she batted his hand away.
He shoved her head back into the pillow and left as she stared after him in outrage, even now he had to simply be cruel. Even after she’d helped him, helped his friend, been hit in the head with his shield, she’d done nothing wrong and he still treated her like that. The sheets had been sprinkled with lavender water, something she had not experienced for a while, and it seemed the blankets had been reinstated so she was no longer shivering under a single sheet. It was probably guilt, for beating her about the head. She’d still tell Kari, if he ever returned.
“You have to eat it all, then we’ll start our lesson.” Thalia had returned with a bowl of soup and some fruit. It wasn’t much, but it was warm.
The lessons were more like quiet conversations as Thalia coaxed her into the right direction, slowly she was making improvements but the General would always find something to pick apart. After about an hour he returned and commanded her to sleep, then when she woke again it was time for more broth and lessons. No one mentioned what had happened, no one spoke of her injuries beyond the physical who came in to check on her, they didn’t even mention her awful appearance. But she remembered, she knew men had come looking for her and if they’d come once then they’d come again.
***
Over the week of her latest confinement one thing became abundantly clear, well abundantly as in Thalia had found out from other servants, those people who were looking for her wanted to overthrow the General. Like fools they must have believed he cared for her, as though he would actually pay heed to her ransom. But even his own closest companions had ignored her whilst she’d screamed for help, they’d have left her to the intruders if she hadn’t got away. It was funny really, the way that she’d kind of saved herself and if she’d done it once then she could do it again.
She just needed to come up with a plan, and stay on his good side until she had. He’d been odd lately, mindlessly rifling through her things yet allowing her all the things he’d denied. The fire didn’t stop burning, the shutters let in fresh air, food came often, not nice food or a selection but it came, and fresh gowns appeared most mornings. He also hadn’t forced himself upon her, which was good as she couldn’t really move or breathe.
“He said he’s coming in, he wants to talk to you.” Thalia hurriedly placed a sheet over the large copper tub, shielding her from sight. “I have to leave, I’m to see to something in another part of the palace but he doesn’t say what.”
“Take Zesiro.” They still didn’t know the people here well, and the people seemed to dislike them. They whispered awful things, about her blood, about the old king, even about her brother.
Thalia still stayed a few moments to tidy away her bath oils and probably check all was well, but the General simply sat on a stool beside the tub and studied her face. She half expected him to rip the sheet away, but he didn’t. He didn’t do anything, or say anything, he just watched.
“How was your day?” She could get on anyone’s good side, even his. Perhaps the way he treated her had made her forget people liked her, most people adored her.
“Busy.” He offered little more than that. “Why are you always in the bath?”
“I’ll have less baths.” It was going fabulously, clearly.
“I’m not saying have less baths, I’m asking why you have so many.” He rolled his dark eyes, the dramatic gesture had a lock of hair fall into his eyes. Maybe it was the lack of uniform, but he seemed a little less threatening this afternoon. “Is that your custom?”
“I would spend a lot of time in the bathhouse with my friends, it’s private there.” She couldn’t help the snipe. “No men.”
“What else did you do?” He studied her, it felt less a conversation and more an interrogation.
“Sit in gardens-“
“Sit in the gardens, say it again.” He motioned with his hand, the snake symbol on his ring glinting in the candlelight.
“Sit in the,” she emphasised the word, “gardens, weave embroider, play the harp, learn new dances, and have new dresses made.”
“Where did you go?” He leant an elbow on the edge of the tub and she silently thanked her stars for the sheet. “Did you attend many forums?”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
“Tell me where you went.” His jaw twitched in annoyance.
“The gardens, the balconies, the-“
“Did you leave the palace?” He cut over her, already he was crossing the line from annoyed to angry.
“No.”
“Get dressed, I’ll have lunch with you.” Was he being kind? She even pinched herself to see if she was dreaming, but then his foul mood snapped into place. “Well don’t take all day.”
“I need Thalia.” Because she couldn’t actually get out.
“You are more than capable of dressing yourself.” His mood seemed to plummet, so she made a mental not never to ask for something again.
“I will, but I can’t get up or I’ll fall. I just need-“ Her words trailed off into a gasp, she already knew a shriek would anger him.
He’d grabbed her from the bath before she’d even had time to process it, not even caring as the water from her skin soaked his tunic. But she cared, she cared that he’d removed the sheet covering her and was now placing her on the marble bench, she cared that he was looking at her in a strange way, and she cared that there was no one to hear her screams as he attacked her once more.
“I’ve seen you nude before.” He raised a brow as she covered herself as best she could, crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you need?”
“Just a sheet and my dress.” She couldn’t even look at his face, somehow this felt worse than the bed. In the bed she’d felt wronged, attacked and abused, here she felt vulnerable.
“You need the oils and to bandage your cuts.” At least he spoke slowly to allow her to follow, but when you were locked in a room learning a language you did pick it up rather quickly.
“I’m cold.” She wouldn’t ask for the sheet as it might annoy him, but she couldn’t bear to be exposed a moment longer.
He threw the sheet over her head, probably to be irritating more than anything else, but his somewhat playful mood only heightened her suspicions that something was wrong. A reluctant kindness was understanding, but this forced boyishness was terrifying. She stayed perfectly still as he bandaged her forearm, she didn’t flinch as he rubbed oil along her spine, she didn’t even pull away as he pinched the skin of her upper arm between his forefingers, she wouldn’t anger him further.
“You look nice in blue.” He glanced at the shift she’d chosen, it wasn’t warm enough but it was the only dress she had with sleeves.
At home the more translucent your silks, the more layers of these silks draped, the higher your status, here the women showed status with thick cloaks lined in fur. Perhaps in the warm season she’d fit in more, if she made it that long, but she had her jewels and even in this room she would wear something. He had his shield and sword, she had her jewels and status. But status only mattered if someone respected it.
“Thank you, General.” Of course she looked nice, even with a black eye and very little weight she was beautiful. Everyone always said how pretty she was.
It became clear after the first course of their lunch that he was fishing for information, he asked endless questions about Kari and her father, he asked of their plans, their rule, their enemies. He wanted to know everything, from what they ate, how they lived, whether the army was by conscription or voluntary, he asked all manner of things that she couldn’t answer.
“What do you like?” She could tell he was getting frustrated, so it was probably better to change the subject.
“What?” The sigh was a tad unnecessary.
“What do you hobby?” Although she was grateful for the soup, a step up from broth, but she did wish for something a little more substantial. He had a whole array of food; meats, stews, breads, but hers only ever soup and fruit.
“What are your hobbies, repeat it.” He sliced himself another serving of duck.
“What are your hobbies, repeat it.” Maybe she was just being childish, but he was rude.
“Fighting, chariot racing…” He reeled off a list of hobbies, some she could translate and others she couldn’t, but they all seemed to centre around being a soldier. There was nothing she could try and join, no way for their relationship to be less fraught. “Go to bed, you’ll be woken for dinner.”
Perhaps she’d done something wrong, if she had then it would be better to obey and regroup, it was the longest conversation they’d ever had and it hadn’t ended in tears. She struggled to stand for a moment before he moved to her side and offered his arm, it was almost sweet until he started to drag her dress over her head.
“Get off me, stop it!” She slapped at his hands, shoving him away with a grunt of pain.
“Your nightgown?” He found it funny, he was laughing to himself as she steadied herself against the bed.
“I’ll do it.” Even that little struggle had her heart racing, she’d spent so long in bed that everything felt like a marathon. “Go away.”
He turned to give her some privacy as she struggled into her nightgown, the way he acted was as though her reactions were completely unwarranted and not as if he hadn’t forced her to disrobe and then attacked her multiple times. While she was hurt she was safe, she’d been hurt before but he didn’t see that as a real injury, but the bruises blossoming across her skin were enough to ward him off. When she tried to get into the bed was when he forced his attentions on her once more, lifting her into the bed and pulling the blankets to her chin. It was odd but she wasn’t stupid, he was trying to lull her into a false sense of security for some reason. She may not know a lot, but she knew how games at court worked.
A noise beyond the drawn curtains of the bed dragged her from a comforting sleep, a familiar scent of incense permeated the air and lodged deep in her heart. She was homesick, clearly, but the sheer stress of her current situation had pulled all thoughts away from the amber palace she loved. Things were very stressful here, even her hair was starting to thin a little, but she needed to remember who she was, she was a daughter of the richest and most powerful king this world has ever known, the sister to a fearsome warrior, a princess so beloved that she had a statue beyond the palace walls – it was unthinkable for any woman. Surely all that, all she was, didn’t go away because she’d moved?
“Alina, it’s only me.” Thalia’s cracked open the curtains, she might ask the General not to draw them again as it was far too dark. “We have gifts from the General, clothes and such. He asked me many questions about your brother and his ships, but I only told him small things. Honestly, I never-“
“He asked me questions too, although I’m not sure why.” It wasn’t like he could invade, Kari had most of his army. “Tell me, did Zesiro find out who those people were?”
“The other soldiers won’t tell him of such things, even we are treated like outcasts. They talk to us about things, but not about what’s happening.”
“Tell them gossip about me, that the General gave me gifts, then see what they say.” Things should be done subtly, that much she knew, but Thalia and Zesiro had probably marched up to the first person and asked. “I need to sleep a little longer, but we can have our lessons in a while.”
“Are you okay?” Thalia’s brows knitted together.
“Just tired.” The perfect plan was forming in her mind, the kind she really should have thought of earlier. She would make him fall for her, then she needn’t fear him. There were stories told of the power a woman had when her husband adored her, the gods weren’t laughing at her, not at all, they were testing her. They wanted to know if she was truly made of them, the way Kari was so sure. Stories were never just stories. “It’s so cold in here, isn’t it?”
“You feel hot?” Thalia touched her forehead. “Do you feel anything else?”
“Just tired.” She let her eyes fall closed, he was less cruel when she was sick.
By the time evening had rolled around she’d wilted away to a shadow of her former self, the physician came and administered foul tasting tonics, a priest came and said a prayer over her bed, the General came and watched from the foot of the bed as he scanned her face for any hint of deceit. But she didn’t complain, she answered each question posed in a soft whisper, she even allowed herself to fall from the bed and apologised profusely when he’d needed to help her, she even asked Thalia to leave the bedcurtains open and looked down in shame when he’d asked why. She didn’t do too much, she was still relatively standoffish with him and the soft voice that whispered in her mind urged her to be careful, but when he got into bed that night he placed a glass on juice on a low table beside her head.