The Princess's Servant

65. The Feast

"Wardian!"

The princess moved through the crowd trying to catch anyone who matched her servant's height.

"Wardian!" She called again.

A few of the masked revelers stopped their wild dancing and turned to face her.

"Are you the Wardian?" The princess asked.

"Hello, I am Wardian, yes," said one.

"No," Sybil shook her head. "Are you my Wardian?"

The man looked to the others. "I could be your Wardian," he shrugged.

"No—" Princess Sybil let out a throaty grumble and kept parsing through the crowd. "Wardian!" She called again.

That word rang in Holden's ears. He, of course, was watching the princess from his seat at the head of the banquet table. The table itself was positioned at the bottom of the hill and raised enough to overlook the scene. His brother sat to his right — statue-still save for the occasional sip of wine from his dark chalice. Holden watched the mass's drunken debauchery and as the little white-clad princess picked through each and every dancer. But she would not find her Wardian down there, Holden knew.

Maybe he should go down there, he thought. Maybe he should leave the table and face her, "like a man," as his father would say. But he couldn't. As much as he wanted to end the hiding and the deception, he was incapable. Because despite his princely garb, despite the company of a thousand thousand guards — despite being in his own home, on his own soil — Holden was afraid of her. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew this fear was completely rational. Just because Sybil was on his turf, she wasn't any less dangerous. He had underestimated the princess once before and he would never do so again.

And so he sat there, watching her. Watching her search for someone she could clearly see with her own two eyes if only she looked up. 

"What was Princess Sybil's business with you?" Thomas asked in his austere, slow voice. "I don't suppose she pleaded to restore the wedding."

"No, nothing of the sort." Holden slouched forward and picked at his food, remembering their 'talk.'

"Then what?" His brother asked.

Holden sighed and straightened out. "Thomas, you have some manner of civility, don't you?"

Thomas froze. His gaze and his head slowly turned to his brother, his eyes wide and gaunt. Holden took one look and regretted asking.

"I don't know. Do I?" Thomas replied, his words now airy and hollow.

The young prince felt that sinking feeling of terrible vulnerability as he glanced back down to his picked-over plate. "I... was just wondering because Sybil asked me what would become of Lailoy, now that the wedding's off," he told him. "I didn't know the answer. And I wondered what you planned to do."

Thomas stared at his brother. He blinked once, twice, and Holden feared that the next words out of his mouth would be an order to punch him in the face. But the moment came and went, and Holden's face remained intact.

Thomas turned to face the party once more. "Hmm... Lailoy..." Thomas said, and he drew in breath and cleared his throat. Whatever terrifying thing came over him seemed to pass as he dabbed the corners of his lips and placed his napkin on the table. "War always seems to be what we end up waging, but... our empire must avoid it if we can. Ward is built on the ruins of seventeen different kingdoms. Seventeen. The people from the kingdoms that our father didn't slaughter live to hate us and my rule — they try to undermine and assassinate me at every chance. I would wager that for every dozen spiteful snakes within my empire, I have naught but one loyal Wardian under my command, and I tire of the attempted poisonings and uprisings. I cannot and will not conquer another kingdom by force."

Holden turned to his brother, a rare hope brimming in his chest. "So then what will you do?"

"My initial preference was to integrate Lailoy through marriage, as our father had intended. But for obvious reasons, marriage is out of the question."

"Sure. No integration, no war. What becomes of it then?"

"I thought I might let Lailoy continue to exist as a quasi-colony. It's worked for us this long, so it seems like a viable option. And it's what I would have chosen, had other matters not been brought to light."

"Other matters?"

Thomas side-eyed his brother. "The way Sybil treated you."

Holden was silent for a moment. "Well, you can still choose that option," he told him. "You did say you'd allow me to deal with the princess, didn't you?"

"I did, and I will. But as Sybil is yours to punish, Lailoy is mine. I will no longer be entertaining ideas of integration or friendly trade. It was my mistake to begin with to think I could work with these heathens. The only path for Lailoy now is complete and total destruction."

Holden felt the feeling of all his hopes plunging to their deaths. "What?" He asked. But he had heard.

"The day Sybil's sentence is carried out, I will give the order for our soldiers to ride on Lailoy and extinguish the life of every man, woman, and child within the city walls," Thomas said. "And when the dust settles and the bodies have been disposed of, I will make arrangements for Wardian pilgrims to settle their new home. All this, am I certain, can be done before their vines wither. And when this is accomplished, it will become the new model for how Ward expands. I have no need for disloyal subjects. I have no want for complex engagements. Our people are fruitful and strong. They can occupy any terrain and master it swiftly. And soon, they will be the only people left in the world."

Holden felt like throwing up. He stared at his plate. He stared at his plate. He stared at his plate.

"Excuse me a moment," Holden said, and Holden ran.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Please remember to vote!