Our Heartbreaking Love

Chapter One

"One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two -- oh, Samantha. You do know how atrocious you look right now, do you not?"

I glared at Mary from across the ballroom, feeling my feet throb in pain. "If we hadn't been at this for hours now, I wouldn't be so heavy on my feet." I was longing to kick off the heels on my feet and continue reviewing these dances barefoot, but that would start another argument with Mary. I was more tired of those than I was of my aching feet.

Mary was the woman my father had married when I had been nine years old. He had become quiet and had often spaced out during conversations after my mother had died, which greatly affected his rule over the kingdom. He had rarely interacted with the people and had paid no attention to the horrible things happening within and around the kingdom. The only thing that he had seemed to care for had been his drinking. His kingdom, the people, and I hadn't mattered anymore. Finally, after three years had passed, his advisor had told him that finding another woman to marry would help him move on from my mother, and my father had agreed without any objections. His advisor had found Mary, the daughter of a rich noble, and a marriage ceremony had happened a week later. The kingdom had gotten a new Queen then, and my father a new wife. And, though my father had begun focusing on his kingdom again, he did little to acknowledge me.

The kingdom and its people had suffered because of my father's lack of rule, and Mary had not helped when she had become Queen. She had no respect for anyone who was not of royalty, even though she had only been a noble's daughter not too long before. She struck fear into people's hearts instead of being the compassionate Queen my mother had been. Those who were not afraid of her made their anger well-known, but none decided to take action. And, though Mary had no power to directly do something to or for the kingdom, I knew she influenced my father's decisions. He was not the same man or King he had been before.

On top of all of that, though, Mary had changed the castle -- my home -- the most. She had thrown out everything that had belonged to my mother -- her clothes, her jewelry, her decorations, even her crown -- and had replaced it with things she had desired. The castle had become a place I didn't recognize and was not something I would ever call home again. However, Mary hadn't stopped with the change there. No, there had been one more thing she had needed to get her hands on -- me.

She thought I was a poor excuse of a princess, and she never let me forget that. Every day, there was constant training to improve who I was as a person and as a princess. She woke me up before the sun rose in the mornings, she made me practice walking in heels with my chin tilted up so high I got cramps in my neck, she made me review the history of all the kingdoms and rulers there had ever been, she made me practice all of the different languages until I was blue in the face, she made me wear impossibly tight corsets for the dresses, and the list went on and on. We argued constantly about those things, but there were two things she despised the most: how I rode a horse and how I knew how to fight

According to Mary, a princess must always be elegant and graceful, even on a horse. She must sit in a saddle as if she were sitting in a chair -- legs on one side, ankles crossed, back straight, and head held high. A princess should never let a horse go faster than a trot. So when I rode my horse like a man and rode him as fast as he could run, Mary became furious. She also demanded that I never got close to weapons, even though I had my own bow, sword, and daggers. She believed it was improper for a woman to know how to fight while I believed it showed my independence. I didn't want to rely on someone else to defend me.

Mary and I never got along, but my father never noticed. Whenever I had tried talking to him about her, he had always been lost in his own little world. It was almost as if he would be better off without me around. Because of that, I had become a rebellious girl. I would purposefully do defiant things, like sneaking out at night or intentionally starting fights with strangers, hoping it would catch my father's attention. But Mary was always the one to yell and scream at me. My father didn't notice anything I did anymore.