The Princess's Servant

12. The Competition

"What on God's—!" William's scream was cut off as a wasp flew into his mouth. He screamed and spat it out, but judging by the whining, Holden guessed he'd been stung.

The wasps swarmed around them and settled in clumps on the honeyed spots. A million ants marched across the floor and fought the wasps for the golden dew. The duke screamed without opening his mouth and writhed in his seat. Holden felt a deep discomfort settle in his stomach.

The pirate was the first to break. Amid Williams' screaming, he stood up in a flash and surprised the others. For a moment, even the buzzing seemed to quiet.

"I can't take this," the sea captain said, an expression of resolution on his face. The other four looked to him. "I can't stand another minute of this torment. I'm empty," he said, looking down the barrel of his bottle. And he shuffled off, hornets buzzing on his skin and nesting in his hair without his concern. He opened the door, walked out, and closed it.

The Draconian prince opened his mouth to comment, but a wasp crawled inside before he could get the words out. No one stirred as the four men sunk into a silence that only made the buzzing louder.

The barbarian smacked at the ants and wasps, crushing them against his taut skin. The duke whined and the Draconian chomped down on... something, Holden thought. Had he brought lunch with him? Ugh, he would kill for some lunch. He hadn't eaten since—

"ENOUGH!" The duke yelled and stood from his spot. "This is insane! Uncivilized! In all my years, I have never—" He marched towards the door. "Ever been subjected to such horror! I swear that wild boar was treated better than this!" The duke flung the door open and strutted straight out. His complaints continued down the hall, but Marcus closed the door before the suitors could hear more.

Holden looked around. So it was him, the spooky one, and the barbarian. Very well. Holden took in a deep breath and tried to relax. The feeling of insects crawling on his skin reminded him of the summer he got his foot caught in an anthill. No one had been anywhere near to save him that day. He had been eight at the time, and he had cried and cried as the tiny red ants began to swarm every inch of his body. But as he kept crying and stopped struggling, he realized that the ants weren't biting him at all. He was safe. Uncomfortable, but safe.

His mother found him a half hour later and made many worried sounds and said many worried words. But Holden had smiled and laughed and hugged her and told her that he was okay.

"ARRRRRGH!" The barbarian stood from his seat and sent his chair flying back. He clapped his hands all over his taught form and tried to brush chitin and goo from his arms. He panted and moaned as he thrashed about but the stuff wouldn't come off of him. He ran out of the room, his big bare feet pummeling the stone, and he began to yell. Again, Marcus slammed the door.

Holden looked down at the little ants that crawled his arm. They were acid ants, he realized, and big ones at that. Holden felt a strange anger come over him that Sybil would have put these ants in harms way for the purpose of these little games. What was won here? All he could see was suffering.

He looked across at the Draconian. The Draconian looked back and continued to munch. Wasps and ants covered his face and his chest, but he appeared entirely unbothered as he chewed away.

Holden felt his stomach growl, but also twist as it hit him that he hadn't seen this man move his hands since they'd arrived. What exactly was the Draconian eating?

He spit something out. It landed on the table. Holden's eyebrows raised. A black, jagged thorax.

With no expression or intonation, the prince told the Wardian, "I'm full," and he moved towards the exit with a graceful stride. When the door slammed shut, Holden found himself unable to think. He was surrounded by crazy people, he thought. Complete, utter psychopaths.

It was Marcus who was the next one in. Just as Holden stood from the sticky mess, she arrived, fully armored. She opened the window behind him and a whole swarm of wasps flew out of it. The buzzing finally quieted and Holden — for the first time since he'd sat down — felt himself breathe.

But as he began brushing off the insects, Marcus grabbed his wrist again.

"Come on," she said, pulling him across the floor.

"Where are we going?" He heard himself ask.

"To get you all clean."

*****

Holden sat in a freezing river in nothing but his underwear. To anyone else, this would have been torture, but this was his favorite part of his castle visit by far. At least in these waters, surrounded by this nature, he could pretend he was at home. If he could block Marcus out of his vision, and the ten additional guards the princess had sent — and the dogs — he could pretend.

Marcus looked up at the castle. She'd turned her back on the bathing servant for decency's sake, though she still glanced every now and then to make sure he was there. She trusted the ten guards, but she trusted her eyes even more.

"So, the princess," Holden said, his words quiet. "Does she really care about these little games?" He asked.

"Why do you ask?" Marcus replied. "Do you wish to win the fair maid's heart?"

"Very funny," he said, his tone dour. Holden stuck his injured hand under the flowing water and seethed. But as the blood and dirt chipped off of it, it didn't look so bad, he thought. There may have been cuts and bruises and a few bones at a weird angle, but all in all, not the worst. He drew his hand out. "I ask because it looks like she put a lot of effort into preparing these trials," he said as he watched his hand sparkle in the sunlight. "But once we complete them, it's like she couldn't care less," Holden said, as a guard stepped closer. The princling got the message and took a step out of the river.

A guard handed him a drying rag and some clothes. Off-white linen shirt and brown pants. How Lailoyian, he thought.

"Yeah, well," Marcus kicked the ground. "In my experience, the less you try to understand the princess, the happier you'll be. There's nothing to 'get' with her. She's just sort of... evil." She shrugged and turned back around when she heard him finish changing.

"But there has to be some reason to it," Holden said, slipping on his boots.

"Is there a reason she asked me to beat you whenever one of your teammates commits some minor grievance?" Marcus asked.

Holden thought. "Because she's the worst?" He asked.

"There you have it," Marcus said. "Now let's get you back before she has an excuse to demonstrate your theory."

The two of them started back up the hill, toward the city gates.