The Baroness of Renin

Chapter 6-Theodora

My brashness evaporated as the castle guards nearest to the disturbance we were causing surrounded me. From the corner of my eye, I saw that each of them had their hand on the hilt of their sword, their fingers itching to strike at the prince's word.

Had this been the prince's objective from the start? Was this why he had singled me out? Was his false flattery nothing more than a ruse created to serve King Murdock's interest, to give him an excuse to execute me so that my title and lands could be given to another?

My heart sank. I had always suspected that my outspokenness would be the death of me. It didn't matter whether they had goaded me into speaking out against the prince or not. Insulting the Royal Family was tantamount to blasphemy. My ire rose at their audacity to imagine they were equal to God himself.

My hands tightened into fists, their long nails piercing the soft flesh of my palms. I shook my head furiously, releasing my breath as slowly as I could manage. Despite the pain emanating from my hands, I managed a mock curtsy.

"Your High—ness, I beg you to spare my life. I would hate for your floors to become stained with my tainted blood," I said, feigning contrition as I gestured at the insanely ornate rug at my feet, which apparently already depicted an epic battle upon a field that ran red with the blood of their enemies.

The prince growled, his jaw clenching so tightly his cheek bones seemed as if they would pierce his skin at any moment. He stepped closer, his harsh scent overwhelming me. He must have poured on his perfumed scent by the bucketful, given the way my eyes burned as I tried to match his glare.

On first inspection, he wasn't nearly as imposing as one would expect of a Samaryan prince. However, further examination of his physique made the sturdiness of his build quite obvious. Although he was thinner than most of the men surrounding us, it felt as if I was staring at the base of a tree. So firm and resolute was he in his demeanor. My heart began to pulsate, my mouth becoming dry at his intimidating presence Despite my fear, I refused to lower my gaze.

He dared to inch ever closer until his mouth was inches from my ear. "I would keep one eye open, Moorish girl," he sneered. "The streets of Terra Nix can be very unwelcoming to your kind."

Despite the warmness of his breath, I shivered at the threat, attempting to unclench my balled fists upon my gown. I prayed he didn't notice that he had rattled me. I would be damned if I let him see my apprehension. I made a show of rolling my eyes, placing one hand on my hip. "Whatever his High-ness," I paused as my voice warbled, "wishes."

The prince cocked a brow at my impertinence, waiting for me to say more. When I didn't, he gave an almost disapproving sigh. With that he left the scene, his heavy boots clomping along the cobblestones.

As he marched off in a huff, I couldn't help noticing how his deep blue tunic hugged his shoulders. The muscles of his back flexed with barely concealed frustration. Without my permission, my eyes skimmed down his torso, admiring his clearly defined calves that were made visible with each step.

I cursed my absurd ogling. It wasn't as if I had never seen a man before. I had seen plenty who had far more class than this so-called prince.

To my relief, the majority of those present had lost interest in me, returning to their conversations. Realizing that the guards had melted back into the crush of people, I hitched up my skirts and turned to make a hasty exit.

I walked as quickly as I dared, trying not to stumble on the cobblestones. As I walked, I couldn't help mumbling under my breath, "This is why I never wanted to come to this court of deception and prejudice."

I stumbled into the first empty room I came across—a storage area of some kind. My breath evacuated from my chest with a huff as I slumped to the floor.

I glanced at my hands and noticed they had unwittingly clenched into fists once more. With measured breaths, I pried my fingers away from my palms. Unsurprisingly, I found crescent-shaped indentations where the nails had met skin. A few drops of crimson blood rolled down my wrists.

I let loose a few shaky breaths, unsurprised when they turned into sobs. Tears fell onto my dress, carrying with them my heavy makeup. No doubt the combination of the two would leave behind horrible stains, but I couldn't bring myself to care for something so trivial anymore.

I was so tired of trying to fit in with others. Tired of hiding behind a mask, both literally and metaphorically. No more. From this point forward, I would present myself the way my mother would want me to, with my God-given skin.

I sighed, dabbing at my bloodied hands with my handkerchief. Why, oh why, had Josephine thought the castle would be different? I wasn't appreciated or respected here, anymore than my parents were. Likely I never would be. This castle would never feel like hom