Prisoner of Chaos (Redemption Book #4)

Chapter 2

Kyla

I close my eyes and imagine myself on an Underland morning with a warm tropical breeze kissing my skin, place where lush jungle and bright pink flowers color the landscape. A kingdom where my Father and Mother live happily as the good and just rulers. Where Helle and Kalvar have beautiful children and are still the best of friends with me. A world where Rift is how he used to be to me and his touch is like a pleasurable wildfire over my skin and his fun-loving spirit inspires stitches of laughter.

That idealistic world is hopelessly beautiful and for a moment I forget myself and smile.

"Princess Kyla is a skilled artist," Prince Wes says and my fantasy world darkens.

My eyes open and I'm back in the Erlund castle, dining with Wes' family, where a harsh wind blows against the walls in a haunting wail.

Sylvia frowns at Wes, but doesn't say anything offensive.

I am surprised at her silence. In my experience she usually has something venomous to say.

King Lionel glares at me coldly from across the grand dining table in the extravagant castle dining room. A true winter king, with long grey hair, wind-withered cheeks, and stony blue eyes. He grunts at his son's statement as if Wes had told him I was skilled in throwing temper tantrums. It's not unlike when Wes presented me to him upon entering the castle, he said my name and didn't even bother bowing.

"You should see some of her work, Father," Wes continues, as if oblivious to his father's apparent disdain for me.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and stare at my plate. The food smells disgusting to me, but everything does right now and unfortunately since I can pick up the scents of everything in my surroundings, I'm screwed.

I lift my fork to my mouth, but I can't eat. I sense King Lionel's wary eyes on my every move, as if he's waiting for me to erupt and kill them all. My stomach does a turn. I'm going to throw up, not only from how nasty this food smells, but from the nerves building up inside me.

"Why don't you do a demonstration of your skills, Princess Kyla?" King Lionel finally speaks to me.

"Now?" My head snaps up from my plate.

"Is there a better time?" King Lionel asks, he stands up from his seat and leans forward. "Why don't you draw me?"

"You?"

"Are you only capable of speaking in single word sentences?" King Lionel's mouth twitches.

"Of course not, your majesty," I tell him, holding back my inclination to answer him sharply for making me uncomfortable with his rude.

"Draw me," King Lionel says, slapping a hand down on the table. "I want to see these skills in motion."

"Ames, get her a pen and paper!" Wes says to his personal servant, he is smiling as if he doesn't understand the horrid tension going on beneath all this.

Ames bows and walks out of the room. A silence falls.

"You're going to be impressed," Wes says, so things aren't so quiet.

I wish he'd shut up. I prefer the silence. Wes seems to genuinely like me, but he's helping me by offering me up like a trophy doomed to fail in the eyes of a critical man.

Ames returns with a pen and paper and sets it down by me. He bows. "Princess Kyla."

I try not to shake as I pick up the pen. "How would you like to be drawn, your majesty?" I ask King Lionel.

"Nude," King Lionel says, and my eyes widen at him, his face appears serious, but then he bursts into laughter. "You actually believed me, you simple thing! How do you think, Cursed? I want a portrait!" He continues laughing after his insults.

Everyone else at the table joins him in his laughter. As if he's made a great joke. I force a laugh too. I decide I hate him though. I begin the outline of his head, I'm no longer nervous about doing a good job with copying his features, he's a "grade A asshole", as my Earth mother would put it.

"What's taking you so long?" King Lionel asks.

I lift up the paper and show him.

"That doesn't look a thing like me!" King Lionel laughs. "I thought you said she was skilled, Wes?"

"Come now, Father, you're so harsh on her, I can see it a little," Wes defends my honor. I feel bad for him having a father like King Lionel.

I set the paper down and suddenly I'm unable to contain the rest of the lunch I'd had earlier. It spatters my drawing of King Lionel as I cough and I'm completely mortified. Fucking perfect.

"Kyla!" Wes exclaims, rising from his seat and rushing to my side. "Are you alright?"

"I don't feel good," I tell him breathlessly. Damn, that hurt. My stomach is completely empty now too. "I'm so, so, so sorry." I apologize vehemently, for Wes' sake, not my own. I don't care what they do with me anymore. My own body doesn't care either.

"Let's get you to your room!" Wes says. "Ames, please help the princess to her chambers and see to it that she's given some anti-nausea medicine."

"Of course, sir!" Ames says, and he helps me to my feet. "Come with me, Princess."

I glance over my shoulder at the drawing of King Lionel I did, where my vomit decorates his condescending face. I cover a hand over my mouth to hide my smile.

Rift would have approved.

And at that thought I'm overcome by loneliness and heartbreak once more and I start crying.

"It's alright, Kyla, everyone gets nervous sometimes." Wes, who is following me with Ames, thinks I'm crying out of embarrassment.

"I thought Cursed didn't get sick," I hear King Lionel sneer, right before we walk up a stairs.

"We can give you a tour tomorrow, you should get some rest," Prince Wes says. "It's been a long day for you. Maybe the Skywave upset your stomach, I hear that can be a side effect sometimes."

"You're really nice, Wes," I tell him, through my tears. "Thank you."

"When do you wish to schedule the wedding?" Wes asks.

I suck in a breath and try not to show the pain on my face. "We can talk about it in the morning if you'd like."

Wes steps ahead of me and opens a thick wooden door. "Only if you are feeling better. This is the room I talked of. It's not as extravagant as anything you have in Underlund but it's got a large fireplace, a bathroom, and large warm bed. The beds are stuffe with sebra fur, I think you'll find it quite--"

"Does your father not like me?" I ask him, I'm not trying to interrupt, but I want to know if Wes is even aware of how callus toward me his father is acting.

"He's a rough man," Wes says with a shrug. "Don't worry about him. I'm sure he'll warm up eventually."

I nod at him. My tears are drying up now. Wes is in denial, but I'm not in denial. It is quite possible I'm pregnant with a Dark Rift's child and if I'm going to be smart about this and truly complete my mission of peace by being the dutiful Cursed wife of Erlund's next king, I'm going to have to give some more of my soul away to this cruel world.