The Baroness of Renin

Chapter 7- Edward

"Your High—ness," she spat with impudence, "I beg you to spare my life. I would hate for your floors to become stained with my tainted blood."

I growled in disgust, feeling her words sting like the winter winds that descend from the Salon mountains. Her audacity made me livid, but convincing her of the error of her ways seemed futile. I began to weigh my options. I could take my leave, but how would that make me look before the members of court?

My father would never let such a public display go unchallenged. Nor would his father, nor his father's father before him. By not acting, I would be showing a level of weakness that was unacceptable for any Sa'maryan man. I could only imagine the added contempt that this would bring upon my family.

For one fleeting moment, I imagined my Father intervening on my behalf. But I knew better than to hope for such a thing. No doubt he would simply allow me to flounder as I searched for my own solution, as he had so many times before. He'd treat this whole debacle as another test of my fitness to rule.

I groaned. My father was ever eager to assess me, holding me accountable for every failing. Yet as far as actual guidance and education went, he was sorely lacking. No, it was unlikely my father would provide me with aid of any sort.

Perhaps I could frighten her into obedience? My stomach roiled at the thought. My sense of loathing deepened as I recalled the innumerable times my father had reprimanded a servant or subject with the utmost severity. As I remembered the way he would take myself and the rest of my siblings to task by sending us to our rooms without dinner.

How could I even contemplate emulating such abusive behavior? Intimidation was my father's tool, not mine. Besides, this woman seemed relatively fearless.

And if my father did view this as a test, this would be an ideal opportunity to display to the court and the servants the way I wished to lead, the king u wished to become.

Non, it was up to me to deal with her.

I drew closer to her, determined not to cause more of a scene than we unfortunately already had. As I did so, the poignant scent of citrus filled my nostrils, overpowering my senses. I struggled to hold back a sneeze in response. Of course she would choose to smell of something as bitter as lemons and oranges.

My gaze collided with hers, shocked to be met with the startling blue of her eyes. They were very similar in shade to those of my sister, Tara, though they were perhaps closer to opal than cornflower. I hesitated at the memory of my sister, a wave of regret overtaking me.

Hopefully Tara was well wherever she was. Had she found friends? People who loved her for who she was, rather than who she should be? I shook myself of such dismal thoughts, returning my attention to the Dame before me.

Whatever shade her eyes were, I couldn't help but admire the way they contrasted so brilliantly against her dark skin.

Stop noticing such inane details, I chided myself with disgust.

I straightened my spine, noticing the woman do the same. Her unusual height made it so her piercing glare was nearly on level with my own.

I took a single step closer to her, bending ever-so-slightly to whisper into her ear. "Keep one eye open at night, Moorish girl. You never know when an accident might happen."

I had no intention of carrying out the threat that my words implied. Truly, I was appalled I had said it at all. I hoped, however, that by doing so, it would persuade her to reform before she actually did find herself coming to harm in court.

If there was one thing I knew, it was that my father would not tolerate such insolence for long.

If I expected her to react out of fear, I was severely disappointed. She gave a mock bow, "Whatever his High—ness wishes."

Her sarcastic, biting tone left me feeling unnerved. I waited for her to say more, perhaps to come to her senses and retract her sentiment.

She did nothing of the sort. Rather than cowing in fear, she seemed even more irked. In addition to her straightened spine, her heaving chest was now puffed out in retaliation.

Mentally I threw my hands up in defeat. I was tired of my shortcomings being on display, exhausted from being the center of attention for so long. All I had done was greet her with a compliment, for Christ's sake! Yet she responded as if it was the worst sort of insult. Or had she thought I was mocking her?

No matter. The damage was already done. Everyone now knew that I hadn't the skill to parry insults from a mere Moorish girl! All I wanted to do was hide and hope everyone forgot this display of my inadequacies. Undoubtably, Father would see my leaving as a retreat. I couldn't manage a care for the lecture I'd receive later.

I huffed, turning on my heels and rushed past the court. I heard murmurs ranging from idle curiosity to staunch disapproval. I did my best to ignore them.

Alas I could not ignore them all. Jonton had jogged to my side, an approving grin spread stupidly upon his face. "You put that wench in her place," my false friend announced, attempting to pat me on the shoulder.

I dodged his outstretched hand, barreling past him. I was not in the mood for his undeserved praise. I continued past my parents on their dais, into the corridor.

I took a deep breath, reveling in the silence. However, I knew I couldn't gather my composure so close to the Great Hall. At any moment, Father could come bursting through that door. My fists remained clenched, adrenaline humming inside me. I was in no state to face him. If I could just escape my reprimand for a half an hour, perhaps I'd be able to face him with the aloof façade I normally wore. To accomplish this, I needed somewhere to vent my frustration.

With that thought in mind, I made my way to the armory at breakneck speed. Perhaps some sword practice would give me a much-needed release.