The Princess & The Knight Pt 2
To those who know chivalry isn't dead. Part 3 is out Thursday, January 22nd.
The great chamber cooled as the brothers entered, the desperate attempt at warm hospitality plastered across The King’s face in the form of uncomfortable smile. Despite it, he was met with the kind of chill that accompanied a conversation suddenly ending; the new arrivals not being privy to the information the walls heard mere seconds before.
The dignitaries of each of the eastern kingdoms sat upright, ashen-faced, and exhausted despite not having made it halfway through the day yet. The four men hunched over the glossy surface, as if gravity had begun to win its lifelong battle with their bodies. There was nothing spectacular about them aside from the velvet robes and golden crowns donning their frail figures. As far as The Knight was concerned, they were not threatening at all. It was The Princess, spine straight, head high, seated in the chair directly facing the brothers, who emanated the strongest presence. She was obviously in charge here.
The King must have had the same sense, but rather than share his curiosity, The Knight was surprised to see how his brother’s glare sharpened into a silent challenge.
“While I’m grateful to host you all this morning,” The King’s forced smile not matching the iciness spread across the rest of his face, “I think it’s best that we outline our agenda, starting with what you’re doing here.”
“We followed the dragons here.” The Princess’s voice didn’t falter as she stared back at The King, her stormy gaze swirling as it stayed locked with his. The King took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation’s quick descent into madness. “They were equally as eager to find who had scorched their home as we were.”
A hush settled over the room at the blatant accusation. The Knight quickly scanned the room, absorbing how each person reacted. Upon landing on the Princess’s, he was startled to see her already staring at him. More staggering was realizing it was the second time they had locked eyes that day.
“As I said before,” The King closed his eyes for a second; the words crawling through his pursed lips in a way that laced his every word with condescension. “We can discuss whatever you please and are here to help aid your kingdom in whatever way we can, but I won’t allow my guests to spit slander in my face as we do so.”
“No one is intending to slander your kingdom’s good name,” The man to the Princess’s left argued cautiously, cutting through the tension as his eyes darted between the younger royals. “We simply want to understand why the dragons escaped to this very castle last night.”
“Your guess is as good as ours,” The King offered, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back into the leather of his chair. The Knight couldn’t help but notice how his brother looked like the spitting image of their grandfather, whose portrait monitored the situation from its home above their heads. “We are just as interested in why we were all woken up by the beasts’ screams.”
The Knight shuffled from his position against the wall as he felt the emotional heat reach a boiling point. His brother was prone to outbursts, but they were always in private. Meaningless altercations with the stable boys here or minor insults thrown at his cooks. While The Knight was unsettled by the outrage toward a fellow royal — a woman — The Princess was not so shaken.
“They’re not beasts,” The Princess seethed, curls escaping the edges of her cloak’s hood as she leaned forward as if considering a leap across the table. The Knight couldn’t help but fixate on how her lips curled upward at the corners. A blend of sharp teeth and soft lips. He imagined, for a moment, that it was he who’d elicited such a strong reaction. How it’d feel to take her mouth into his. “And, unlike them, you’ll be able to catch up on said sleep in your own home tonight.”
“Other than following your stray cats, Princess,” The King taunted, ignoring her words, “what leads you to believe we’d have any reason to risk our alliances?”
The Princess’s cool demeanor broke for the first time, as she worked her jaw as if to ready her next words. “Because it was your men with their knives at my maids’ throats last night.”
The Knight stiffened, his eyes not leaving The King’s face. Knowing that whatever came out of his brother’s mouth would be what he wanted to say, but his face would give away the truth.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” The King stated, etching out each word as if choosing exactly how he wanted each syllable to sound.
The Knight was disarmed by how easily the lie came to his brother.
The meetings had ended early with The King having stormed out shortly after The Princess’s accusations. The only exchange between the two was a chaotic shouting match that yielded zero results. The King seemed to think she was forcing his hand into the only treaty he’d denied, while The Princess insisted it was this very treaty’s inactive state that allowed him the audacity to overthrow her.
The Knight knew better than to overwhelm his brother with conversation after a fit like that. He’d be in his room throwing things until he’d broken enough to consider the world around him equal to his internal state. With his own schedule having now been freed up, The Knight retreated to the library. It seemed a better time than any to reacquaint himself with the politics of the realm.
He removed his armor, tossing it onto a velvet cushion near the window before perusing the shelves nearest the back wall. Calloused hands grazed over a large brown book whose author had long since passed. By the stains and tears on the dark brown cover, he could tell many had turned to its text for information. The Knight flipped through it as he paced the room, the large window at the center letting in enough natural light to read throughout the afternoon.
His focus was on the dragons. Social creatures, the dragons migrated from shore to shore frequently to meet with other groups, known as wings, from neighboring realms. They stopped migrating half a century ago as hunting in the region became more prevalent. The practice began with the Great Famine, when one individual would be taken down to feed the entire village for an entire season. The hunters then had respect for the creatures, choosing from the oldest members of the population and never hunting more than they needed. It was only a few years later, however, that dignitaries and their staff began hunting for sport. The notoriously dangerous creatures becoming the most sought-after trophy on the West Coast.
As the natural light grew dim, The Knight knew he had to leave. Eager to continue reading but needing to prepare Lady for the trip back to the village before sunset, he propped the book underneath his arm before begrudgingly exiting the library’s warmth.
Walking through a seldom-used corner of the castle, The Knight paid no mind to his surroundings until a voice sliced through the silence a mere yard before him.
“Aren’t you going to say ‘hello’?” The Princess instigated, sitting up from where she’d been perched on a bench along the windows. Her cloak had fallen open to reveal the square neck of the merlot gown beneath.
The Knight’s gaze lingered on where the velvet fabric met soft skin, as he stopped. Even as his eyes shifted to her eyes, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it’d feel to run a thumb down the decadent fabric that dipped into her cleavage. How she’d react if he pulled it down to graze the skin beneath.
“Fine. I don’t need a ‘hello’”, The Princess was standing on her tiptoes as if trying to meet his eyeline, “but some sign that you can hear me would be appreciated.”
The Knight rolled his eyes at the woman’s gall before clearing his throat.
“Hello.”
“Hello.” The Princess mirrored, sucking in a deep breath before clasping her hands before her and flattening her feet in their woven flat shoes. “I’ve come to ask a favor.”
The Knight bristled at the words, surprised at how intimate it felt to know The Princess had thought about him long enough to concoct a request. He only raised his eyebrows at her in response, careful not to flippantly accept or deny anything blindly.
“Please don’t tell anyone that you saw me this morning,” The Princess continued, fingers now twisting at once another from where they settled on the curve of her waist.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” The Knight fibbed, making a half-hearted attempt to move around The Princess. The physical gesture of creating distance from her in opposition to his instinct to move closer.
“Does an inability to tell a believable lie run in your family?” The Princess stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop just before her, their faces centimeters from each other. He sighed before arching his neck to look down at The Princess.
“Neither of us is lying, Princess.” From where their bodies now almost touched, The Knight could see how she worried the inside of her lip. The signs of insecurity in stark contrast to the confidence of her words. His gaze fell down her neck and to her chest to watch as her breath quickened, heart racing. He told himself that was the only reason he looked.
“I’m just asking you to keep it between us,” The Princess breathed, her tone’s sharp edge dissolving into a soft plea.
The Knight’s eyebrows furrowed as he ran his tongue over his teeth, a grin escaping his lips. Emboldened, he stepped towards her, closing the short distance between them.
“Why would I do that?”
The Princess started to respond, but was interrupted by Silas rounding the corner. The Princess quickly turned to face him; her curls, whipping against The Knight’s chest. She began to offer an excuse, but The Knight’s hand on her back silenced her. A silent request to let him serve up the excuse to his friend.
“Curfew is in one hour,” Silas announced, letting his gaze linger on each one of them for a second longer as if deciding whether he should intervene, before ultimately choosing otherwise. “I’d hate to explain to your brother why you’ll be taking breakfast from a cell.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time!” The Knight teased Silas, who simply shook his head in response before turning to continue his rounds. His hand didn’t move from The Princess’s back, his thumb caressing the soft fabric he’d been imagining under his fingers mere moments before, as the sound of Silas’ footsteps faded.
His hand fell as The Princess turned towards him, knowing their time was running short. While only minutes ago his goal had been to escape the conversation as quickly as possible, The Knight now patiently awaited her next move on the board. Eager to continue playing their game.
“If you keep this secret until the new moon, I’ll leave here for good. No war. No questions asked.”