Waiting For Spring
Chapter 3

I awoke, what felt like minutes later, to someone gently shaking my shoulder. I jolted at the contact, scrambling to get away until my back hit the stone wall.

I let out a startled cry, rubbing that back of my head in discomfort before my body tensed in anticipation. My eyes locked on familiar blue ones only to realise I was no longer on the streets but inside the castle walls. Taking short breaths, I looked around the room again, reacquainting myself with my surroundings before my eyes fell on the Captain.

“Highness, are you well?” He asked cautiously, standing above me and looking down with concern.

“Don’t call me that,” I grumbled, trying to brush off some dirt on my clothes. It was an impossible task with much of it caked on from years on the streets.

“You are a princess, no matter whether you are dressed in finery or rags. You are to be my future queen. Which demands double the respect.” He reached down for me, and reluctantly I placed my hand in his, afraid I would leave smudges of dirt against his pristine skin. Once he has pulled me to my feet, he took several steps away from me and bowed deeply. Instantly, red flooded my cheeks as I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

I cleared my throat, my eyes looking anywhere but at him only to replace more curious eyes watching me from the doorway.

“Who are they?” I demanded, straightening my spine. Troy looked back at the four people watching our exchanged, and I felt my temper start to surface. “Are they here to gwark at the girl you claim to be a princess?”

“They are the royal dressmakers,” he explained gesturing to three men standing huddled by the door. “And this is Marla, your lady’s maid. They are here to dress you in a manner befitting of your title highness.” Troy eyed them expectantly and one by one they dropped into a bow or curtsey. I felt the uncomfortable feeling wash over me again and wished they would stop playing along with the farce Troy and the king had started.

“Please don’t do that,” I muttered, rubbing my fingers anxiously along my arm. “I am beneath you.” The three dressmakers looked at Troy nervously, while the elderly woman by their side remained impassive.

The men looked mousey. One was holding rolls of various shades of pink. He was tall and spindly, his eyes too close together on his face. Beside him stood a plump man, with rosy red cheeks and bushy grey eyebrows and a balding head. The man to his right seemed to be the leaner, and when I gave him a closer look, I realised he was, in fact, a woman. She had cropped hair with masculine features, her figure lean. There was a tape measure wrapped around her neck, and a cushion taped to her wrist filled with pins. On closer inspection, I saw that she was, in fact, wearing a tunic and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would be allowed to wear something so form fitting.

“Your Highness,” Troy prompted, and quickly my eyes snapped back to him. “They bow to show respect to you. They’re acknowledging your title.”

“How can they respect someone they don’t know?” I shot back angrily. “I don’t have a title, I am not a princess, and the sooner everyone realises that the sooner the king can replace another bride. His real bride.”

Troy ignored my outburst and instead motioned for the elderly woman named Marla to come forward.

“Marla is going to help you bathe and prepare.”

“No, she isn’t. I can bathe myself.” I replied forcefully, taking a step back but again being met with the cold stone wall.

“You are to have dinner with the King tonight, and you must be properly attired,” Troy explained, slowly as if I were a child. “Normally, you would have more servants attending you, but your arrival was...unexpected.” I watched in horror as the woman took another step forward, her keen green eyes watching me closely. Her grey hair was pulled back severely on her head and only served to make her more intimidating. She curtseyed again as I spun my attention back to Troy.

“The King?” I questioned, afraid I may have heard him right. I was certain he had said I was having dinner with the King.

“The King has requested that you join him tonight in his private chambers for dinner,” Troy explained again, and I felt panic begin to flutter in my chest. The last place I wanted to be was alone in a room with a man hell bent on making me his wife.

“Why?”

“You are his princess. He wants to get to know you,” he replied slowly, cautiously. As if he could sense my inner turmoil.

My eyes widened as I struggled to get enough air into my lungs. It felt as if the room might be closing in on me.

“I am here to ensure that you are delivered to him in the proper attire at the appropriate time.” He continued, before turning on me and gesturing to the remaining people standing by the door.

“These are Adrian, Jacob and Zella. They’re to prepare your new wardrobe.” I eyed the man with the pink fabric warily. I was none too pleased to have it anywhere near my person. The woman, Zella, took a hesitant step forward drawing an immediate reaction from me.

“No,” I all but shouted, stilling the woman mid stride. Marla eyed me confrontationally, taking a measured step towards me. Never once did her severe gaze leave mine.

“Highness,” she started as if she were speaking to a petulant child. “You cannot remain in your current state. It does not reflect your title.”

“It reflects exactly who I am,” I shot back defensively, wrapping my arms tightly around my middle.

“You cannot wear them to see the king,” Troy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t want to wear anything else.”

“Highness-” Marla began again, but I cut her off.

“I’m not taking them off,” I answered firmly.

“You are being irrational,” Troy frowned. “Why would you choose to wear clothes that make you look like a young boy?”

“Better that than let you dress me to please a man’s eye,” I growled. In an instant, something akin to understanding flashed across Marla’s face.

“Highness, you do not need to be afraid here,” she spoke lowly, taking another tentative step in my direction causing me to side step along the wall to put distance between us.

“I feel safer in my clothes,” I answered, not missing the confused look on Troy’s face.

“You will be safe here no matter what you are wearing. The men here...they aren’t like those you may have encountered on the streets.” She spoke gently, as if she were afraid she might startle me, but I couldn’t convince my body to relax. If I was telling the truth, I hadn’t relaxed in years. I couldn’t remember a time when I had ever felt safe. When the memories had ever left me alone long enough to have a peaceful sleep.

“Rosie,” Troy began, using the name familiar to me. “What are you afraid will happen?” For a moment I remained silent, gently rubbing my arms to keep warm but I could feel all the eyes in the room watching me expectantly. My eyes darted to the three dressmakers before they landed on the floor again, my lips remaining sealed.

“Leave us,” Troy ordered, and I heard a scuffle of feet before the door clicked shut. “Rosie?” Troy prompted again, and reluctantly I raised my eyes to his, dread weighing heavily on my heart. I noticed Marla hadn’t left with the others and was watching me with an impassive expression but in her eyes, I could have sworn I saw sympathy, maybe even pity.

“How many girls have you seen on the streets?” I whispered, hugging my arms tighter to my body as the memories hit.

“What do you mean?” He frowned and I let out a tired sigh before I answered.

“On the streets, how many girls do you see? Girls like me?” I watch as he seems to think over my questions and I know he is drawing a blank.

“They don’t last long before they are taken. No one looks for an orphan. No one mourns their loss. No one tries to save them from those places, from those men.′ I spat, disgust thumping through my veins as I remembered.

“Arlarose, did...did any of those men ever take you?” He asked, seemingly replaceing it difficult to ask the question as Marla watched on passively

“Yes,” I breathed. “Once.” I looked back at Troy to replace a furious look on his handsome face. His hands clenched tightly by his sides. Suddenly, he cursed violently under his breath, throwing his hands in the air. He started to mutter incoherently as he paced and my already fragile nerves began to fray even further.

“James isn’t going to like this,” he muttered loud enough for me to hear. “He’s going to burn the city to the ground.”

“Why?” I asked worriedly, taking a step closer to the captain without thinking.

’You were promised to him. You are his,” he emphasised, his eyes flashing dangerously. “The men who took you...”

‘I don’t understand.’

“James is a proud man princess, sometimes too proud.” He frowned. My mind was in overdrive trying to keep pace with his thoughts all while Marla remained stoic beside him. “Any slight against you is one against him.”

“I don’t see how my being locked up by those men is any of the king’s business,” I frowned. He wasn’t the one who needed to live through that night. I was. I was the one who re-lived it whenever I closed my eyes and woke up with a layer of cold sweat clinging to my body, fearing that I was there all over again.

’How...how long did they keep you?”

“Barely a single night,” I answered emotionlessly, trying to detach myself from the memories of screaming women and leering men as the flames engulfed my vision. “I burned the place to the ground.”

“What?” He asked in alarm.

“The explosion lit the night sky for miles. I didn’t know the ale would react in such a way,” I shrugged, seeing the flashes of faces across my vision as they realised they couldn’t outrun the flames. They couldn’t outrun their death. “When they first brought me in, they locked me in the kitchens until their night was over. I didn’t hesitate. By the time they realised what was happening it was too late.” I continued, rubbing my hand absently across my stomach where a scar lay from where I had climbed out a broken window. A constant reminder of the innocent lives I had taken that night to free my own. Those men may have deserved their deaths but the women trapped inside didn’t.

I didn’t realise the room had fallen silent until the captain spoke again, pulling me from my memories and my guilt.

“I’m sorry Rosie, you should have never needed to suffer like that.′ He consoled and immediately I felt anger rise in my veins. He had no right to feel sorry for me. He had no right to try and sympathise with me.

I didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. I deserved to suffer for the lives I had taken.

“Why because you believe me to be of value?” I scoffed, shuffling on my feet with agitation. “Because you believe me to be some precious princess?”

“You are very important princess Arlarose?” He began, and again I felt my blood begin to boil as my temper spiked.

“It doesn’t matter whether I’m a princess or a peasant, no one deserves to be trapped in a place like that with those men.” I spat, my skin began to tingle with anger, my face red and flustered.

“Some things can’t be helped,” the captain answered dismissively. “Your life will always be more valuable than most others, especially those inside that place.”

“Get out,′ I growled, my anger finally spilling over into my words. My body was trembling with rage at his disregard for human life.

“I understand you have had a difficult life princess Arlarose, but now you have been identified as the lost princess you need to adhere to the etiquette of court. That begins with your attire.” He explained, dismissing my outrage like that of a petulant child.

“You are heartless,” I shouted, clutching tighter to my clothes in comfort. “I will not be who you wish of me. I will never be the princess you claim I am. I am not her. I’m not.”

“I am not here to argue the validity of your identity; I am merely here to ensure you are correctly dressed for the king.”

’I will not dress to make him happy. I will dress however I choose, and I like this,” I argued tugging on my filthy shirt aggressively.

“You will follow the king’s wishes princess, just as every other servant of the crown does.” He answered with finality, nodding at Marla tensely. Understanding his silent command, Marla began to move towards me with a determined look in her eyes.

“No,” I protested, trying to sidestep Marla’s outstretched arm but she moved with surprising speed, her hand clamping down on my arm tightly. “I don’t want this.”

“What are you so afraid of?” He demanded angrily, tiring of my behaviour.

“I want to go back to Herrin.”

“You want to be locked up?” He frowned, looking me as if I may have lost my mind. I remained silent in Marla’s grip, watching him challengingly. Finally, after several minutes of silence, he let out a tired sigh shaking his head in annoyance.

“This is your new home Rosie,” he began, and I felt the familiar flutter of fear start in my chest. “You will be married to the king and become the queen he has been searching for all this time. The sooner you realise there is no escaping that, the better. You are safe here princess,” he emphasised, looking at me intently and I stared back trying to make him understand. Didn’t he understand that everything he had just described was what terrified me? Didn’t he understand that the man I was betrothed to was the one that made me feel unsafe?

‘I don’t want this,’ I breathed, letting my head fall to my chest in defeat as he let out a sigh of frustration.

“Give it a chance. He isn’t going to hurt you. Just spend some time with him, and you’ll realise just how much you mean to him, to his people and his nation.”

“How do you know?” I demanded.

“What?”

“How do you know he will not hurt me? After all, he is the one to give me this,” I shouted, grabbing at my shirt and showing him the jagged scar. He let silence fall between us again before understanding flashed through his eyes when they looked back at me.

“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” He asked in disbelief, and I fought the urge to scoff. I kept quiet as he continued to look at me and it seemed to be the only answer he needed.

“Princess,” he began softly. “James is my greatest friend. I’ve known him since childhood. The last person you should be afraid of is him. He may seem harsh but it is only because he needs this union to proceed, we all do. It is the only way to ensure peace in the region. The only way for Huen and all of Citra to prosper.”

“But I’m not ready to marry anyone, least of all a stranger,” I replied in a small voice.

“It is your duty princess,” he answered flatly.

“Yesterday I didn’t even have a family, and today I have a duty that will determine the security of so many innocent lives. Don’t you see how unfair that is?”

“It is still the duty you must uphold. We are all bound by something, your Highness,” he answered, his face an impenetrable mask.

“I-”

“No Princess Arlarose, this is your life now. You need to understand that. Acting this way will only make this twice as hard for you.” Looking at his face, I knew he didn’t understand. I had been taken from everything I had ever known and told I was someone I wasn’t.

“This is too much,” I whispered, trying to curl in on myself and away from Marla’s firm grip. Slowly, I looked to her in hopes of seeing the understanding I had seen before, but her face blank. She stood beside me as still as a statue, her gaze empty as she looked in Troy’s direction. I was alone.

“You will adjust princess,” he promised, and I could hear the sincerity in his words, but they rang false in my mind. “Now, allow Marla to prepare you for dinner. It would be unwise of you to keep his majesty waiting,” he warned before suddenly he turned on his heel exiting the room. Moments later the three dressmakers returned and I felt my stomach churn. Before I could process what had just transpired, I was whisked away by Marla’s strong hold and plunged into the unknown.