The summoned orcs stand around me, fire in their eyes over the coming battle; however, theirs is one that will need to be fought with strategy of the mind and not with brute force.
Lowering my voice, “Second, it has been an honour to serve as your Commander. Third, protect her as you have protected me.”
“For Imperia,” I boom. A responding cry echoing the words we all fight for. The one true nation. Our home.
For Imperia.
Chapter 1
Rosalind
For three hours, I sat and listened to my father discuss the finer details of my soon-to-be marriage. The arrangement is to be a society wedding and a successful business venture between two elite families,blah, blah, blah. My mind relays everything as I walk to my apartment in downtown Horizon City. A small ounce of freedom my father allowed me. I wonder if he will sell it after I move to the marital home or if they will keep it for me. There is a tiny condition in the contract that I must produce a male heir within the first two years. Like I could just will the sex of my child to life at conception.
Bart, my future husband, sat smirking at me through most of the ordeal, his only input being that he wants to ensure I have remained ‘pure’ for him. A doctor of his choosing will examine me the day before our nuptials. I would like to say it was only my father,Bart, and my future father-in-law in the room, but their assistants and bodyguards were also in attendance. All of them looking my body over when my virginity was the topic of discussion. I am to be put on a strict diet immediately, as I can not be shown to society in my current state,whatever that means. I like how I look, but my body is not my own and never will be. I am a pawn, a tool to be traded, a soon to be vessel for Bart to use how he sees fit.
My father is Richard Carrington,theRichard Carrington. Billionaire, mogul, or better yet - destroyer of enterprises. Whatever you want to call him, it doesn't change who he is to me or who I am to him. We are each other's biggest disappointments, and as my mother was unable to produce a male child for him, I became chattel in his quest to expand his portfolio. I am not allowed to live my own life, that is for my father to decide before he passes the baton to my future husband. I am but an incubator for elite blooded children, a warm body for my husband to use while I look the other way at his many future mistresses. I can see it now, late night parties I will be expected to attend while he slips into dark alcoves with different women. I will be something for them to gossip about, stripped bare for all elites to judge and pick me apart.What a shame she had to marry Bart. She should be home with her children, not here, a terrible mother already. Did she bleed when he took her virginity? Assuming she was still intact. I am expectedto fit the mould of the perfect housewife, a porn star in the bedroom, a socialite, a wanting mother, submissive to my husband, to not have my own voice and never stray from the path laid out for me.
The wedding will be announced in three months, enough time for me to transform into someone worthy to stand beside Bart Wobbleton.
I'm going to be Mrs Wobbleton.
Call me dramatic, but I would rather die than suffer such a title. To add insult to injury, my fiery red hair needs to go. Blond is the preferred colour, so it complements his copper hair. Heaven forbid two redheads get married. Thankfully, I was granted to keep my green eyes and not have to wear coloured contacts for the rest of my days.
A sob escapes me,and I look around to gather my bearings–empty. No one on the streets to witness my lapse in facade, yet another facet to the life that is not mine. I'm not sure how far I've walked, but I must be almost home. I've been in somewhat of a dream state, walking without direction as I recall every detail of the meeting.
I'm not all that familiar with this area, but I can see a subway station up ahead promising the answer to pinpointing my location. The wind picks up, and I quicken my step, a single lamp post illuminating the subway, offering salvation in the dark of the night. Istupidly left my purse in my father's town car, my phone comfortably tucked inside. I should have known better, and no doubt I will be scolded when he realises,ifhe does. It’s only if they need me, I am to be available, and thankfully, based on what was said this evening, it won't be until tomorrow morning when preparations start.
An icy blast almost stops me in my tracks. It wasn't meant to snow tonight, but it wouldn't be the first time the weather changed on me. Typical though really, because today wasn't already challenging enough, I just had to go and get lost as well. No doubt this will be another thing in a long list that I can never do right.I never do anything right. I'm not valued enough to be given the opportunity.
Brushing off the light smattering of ice, I read the station information, realisation setting in that I've gone much farther than I first thought.
Dang it.
A broken bottle smashes somewhere below me, and I lean over the railing, looking down the stairwell as a man leers back at me.
“Well, hey there, pretty lady.” His teeth are too white, his smile too big as he stares at me. A fox hunting its prey. Scrambling back, I hear another voice, and I risk peering over the railing again. Three men now stand there talking, one swaying as he takes a swig of his beer.
Breathe,not every man is a problem. Just becausethe hair on my neck stands on end and my body is screamingrun, doesn't mean things have become significantly worse. I need to stop reading the crime section of the news. Violence can happen anywhere. Statistically speaking, men are more inclined to hurt women, and just because there are three of them… they can be three good guys. Three men with sisters and a mother whom they love. Three men who don’t feel like they’re owed something because they consider me less than. Maybe, just this once, a man in the woods is better than the bear. A nearby church starts to ring its bells, and at the sound of the first dong, all three men look up and spy me staring down at them.
Fudge.
“Pretty lady. Come down here and get out of the wind. We just want to chat with you.” One of them calls out, followed by a slurring, “Maybe even bend you over.”
Can a gal catch a break!
I may be from the one percent, but I'm not a stupid little girl. I've paid attention to every meeting, gala, and luncheon I’ve been invited to. Once I realised the elite like to play games with each other, I vowed to play better than any of them.
So I studied.
Body language, ulterior motives, behaviour. Money might talk in my world, but information is better. It makes you powerful. I just needed more timeto get out of my upcoming wedding. I was hoping that the right information would fall into my lap. I still had time, not a lot, but it was something. Right now though, goose bumps cover my body, and I can feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest.I choose the bear.
Stepping back from the railing, I look around for anywhere open I could hide. Laughter and heavy footsteps get louder as they climb the stairwell. The church must be putting on a service because I swear the bells get louder, almost drowning out the noise of the men.
I rush out of the light and into the darkness of the deserted street, ducking into the first alleyway I see, just as the men come into view. They all take the time to look into the darkness, scanning to see where I’ve disappeared. Thankfully, I can still see them in the meagre light, the drunk one choosing that moment to throw his empty beer bottle in my direction. They were turning, readying to walk away, when the glass smashed against the brick wall above me. I screamed as the jagged glass rained down. Slow smiles spread across their faces as I give away my hiding spot.
Darting down the alleyway, I follow it as it turns left, then right. The men sound like they’re getting closer, but still, the church bells ring louder. A pull in the direction of a sanctuary I've not stepped into for many years. One that I hope will offer me protection tonight.
Daring to look behind me, I lose my footing, myknees slamming into the frozen gravel. Why couldn’t there be more snowfall to soften my fall? Can I, for once, have some warm winds and bright sunshine? Instead, it feels like I've landed on glass, and I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle my cry.
