Chapter 17: A Scolding

I awoke not dead. She hadn’t sent an assassin then, meaning that other plans were in motion. Well, I had my own plans.

The prince would be heading out to do war this morning. I wanted to be on that battlefield. I pulled out the armor I’d hidden, the sword, dagger and dirk, and the spear, spread it all out and started putting on the layers.

Just as I’d gotten the padded part on – the gambeson – my tent flap was savagely thrown open.

The dowager-regent stormed in, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

I dropped the chain and turned, “Excuse me?”

“You are a princess! You are not going to be training with weapons or wearing armor!”

“You told me to be strong, that we women are stronger than men. I-”

“Oh, gods and demons, you are such a stupid girl. You don’t fight men by pretending to be one.” She came closer and her harsh, angry face softened somewhat, almost as if she understood, “You must be a woman. Feminine above all else. You rule men from behind the scenes-”

“Yeah, that’s not me. You can shut that shit down right now.”

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. I am going to wear armor. I am going to learn how to fight. And you are going to get the hell out of my way.”

She backhanded me across the face. Ringing in my ears, cheek stinging, anger rising. “You are going to be a princess if I have to break you.”

I gut punched her. As hard as I could, with my left. “Listen to me old hag . . .” Fury in my eyes as I looked at her doubled over form.

She stood up quicker than I thought possible and wailed on my head with a barrage of hard, hard slaps. It was all I could do to put my hands up and back up. “God, fuck you bitch!” The slaps came harder. I took a breath and pushed with everything I had, both hands, against her hips, knocking her back several feet. She almost fell over but caught herself. I shouted, “Get the hell out or this is escalating!”

She backed up, face as pale as paper, a scowl fit for the devil, “Something has poisoned you! You were raped! And it’s corrupted you. Oh, my poor, little princess.”

“I am not your goddamned princess!” My anger wanted to punch her in the face over and over. Yet a small part of me was so shocked at what she’d said, I just couldn’t answer the accusation. The twisted logic ground my mind to a halt.

She kept backing up like I was some kind of dangerous animal. At the edge of the door, shaking with rage, she pointed her finger at me, “You require the virgin’s test. We need to rid you of this impurity!” Almost frothing, she spat out, “And you’d better pray that the inquisitor is gentle.”

“You or anyone else try such a thing and,” I said, brandishing my dirk, violently trembling, “I will kill you. I will kill anyone who touches this royal body.”

“Demon possessed! We need an exorcist!” She turned and left, barking instructions at the guards to keep me in this tent.

The implications of what she was saying hit me then. I’d read about stuff like this in history, witch trials, innocence testing, all that nonsense. It was the victim blaming that kept my rage going, but soon led to bafflement. In a land of constant war, how is it the victim’s fault for being attacked? Bafflement led back to anger as I turned it over and over in my head. I may have paced.

***

The prince entered my guarded tent, sighed, strode over to where I was sitting angry, annoyed, upset in equal measure.

“Cayce . . .”

I looked up. His face was grim.

He sat down in front of me, spent a lot of time looking at the table, even tracing a line along it. “It’s a quick thing. An important thing.”

I knew what he was talking about and spit out the words, “What is? What is important that I must do, dear brother?”

“She has power and you’ve pushed her. The church and power at her call and now, now she’s convinced them that-”

“No, she’s using them as a weapon to break me. Nothing more. This isn’t even punishment. And it’s disgusting. Filthy. The thought should shame you. A grown man, entertaining such things!”

His skin turned red, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ll tell the priest to be quick and gentle and-”

“Ha! Gentle! What a word to use. I didn’t expect you to be this passive – you of all people! Aren’t you now the royal protector, the next king?”

“Cayce, I . . .”

“Never mind, it’s enough. I’m angry, I’ve said my piece and I won’t guilt you any further. What do you want?”

I couldn’t tell if he felt relief, but he stood up. “I’m off to battle. No harassing. Taking the bulk of the army. If we can’t win this, I fear for our kingdom.”

I climbed atop the table and wrapped my arms around his neck, “You have my blessing and you will win.”

His chest heaved, choaked back a sob, and he took me in arms off the table in a very strong hug, whispering, “Forgive me. Forgive me and we’ll both make it through this day.”

“I forgive you and after the day is done, the deed will be forgotten and we will move on.”

“You are very gracious.” He withdrew from our embrace, kissed me on the cheek, put me down. Then, he walked over to the armor, laid out and ready to wear. “I must take these.” He couldn’t meet my gaze as he did so, and I watched him the entire time. Folding the armor, picking up the weapons. I realized that I should have hidden them again – impossible now.

He left.