“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He spoke as if she was a small child, calmly and slowly, forgetting formality in his distress, using the same tone that had settled Nim when she was little and suffering with nightmares.
He pulled a blanket from the bed and laid it over her as gently as he could. “We need to get you help. The prince said you have a maid?”
She was silent for so long that he didn’t think she would answer, but eventually she managed a broken whisper. “K-k-keely.”
“I’ll get Keely. And then, when you’re dressed, we’ll go to the king.”
“N-n-no. Not the k-king!”
Val rocked back onto his heels and rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the pounding headache that was making it hard to think.
“We have to tell someone. I don’t know who else….”
At his words, some spark seemed to come back into her, and she reached out, through her blanket, and wrapped her freezing fingers around his arm. Her green eyes were wide and beseeching. “P-please. Promise me. Please. Don’t tell anyone.”
He shook his head. How could he make this promise? Gods. “No, we have to—”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “The treaty. The end of the war. I have to p-protect my people.”
“Your people wouldn’t want this! Gods. We can call back your mother, the queen. She can’t be more than a day away yet.”
A look of infinite sadness and resignation crossed her battered face. “The queen won’t c-come. This war is bleeding us. So many dead…. We need the treaty.”
Val pinched the top of his nose tightly, still shaking his head. There had to be something they could do.
“Please.” Her soft voice was thick with tears and pain, but she forced herself up to sitting and took a slow breath, settling herself. “Please, call Keely, but promise me you won’t tell anyone. It’s bad enough that you’ve seen me like this. I’m begging you, don’t make it worse.”
He didn’t want to, but he promised. Loathing it even as he spoke the words.
And then he left the princess shivering in her chambers as he bolted the door and sped through the palace to find a servant who would get Keely. He stood guard until Keely arrived and he could usher her into the princess’s room, her face reflecting the horrified helplessness that was swimming through his veins.
After that, the princess stayed away from everyone except him and Keely.
At first, she said she was waiting until the bruising on her face was gone. She would sit for hours in her room alone or go for walks around the former queen’s gardens, sometimes talking to Val as he trailed behind her, telling him about the things she missed from home and pointing out the parts of the garden that she liked. Listening to the stories of his home, his family, laughing at the silly things he and Tristan did as boys. And the bruises slowly faded.
Meanwhile, the whispers started. She was cold, aloof, unwilling to make friends, too arrogant to learn their culture. Too petulant to attend court. All lies. But he couldn’t say a word about what was really happening.
And with every additional rumor, with every new visit from the prince and fresh bruise, she retreated further into herself, hiding in her room for longer, limiting her attendance to those functions that she absolutely could not refuse, only showing her true kindness and strength to him and Keely.
Long days passed where Val stood guard, wings drawn back ready for combat, unable to relax as dread consumed him. Knowing that, at any moment, the prince could return to visit his wife.
His friends started to complain about the Ice Maiden from the North, ignoring his repeated attempts to make them believe that she was nothing like the rumors implied. Even Tristan wouldn’t hear it. The Hawks laughed and repeated the jokes doing the rounds within the palace until he could no longer bear their company.
Instead he chose to eat alone in his rooms and pick up every shift he possibly could. His life became a blur of constant guard duty interspersed with small snatches of sleep and strong drink.
Constant, lonely vigilance as the court bullied Alanna, Grendel harassed her, Ballanor beat her, and she never once faltered in her sacrifice for her people.
Gods. He had never imagined a woman like her.
The last time he saw Tristan, his friend had chuckled that Princess Peevish must be even worse than the gossips said, if that was why he looked so grim all the time.
He simply pushed away his ale and walked out and never bothered with the Hawks again.
Thankfully, after the first hellish weeks, the prince grew bored of Alanna. More and more he ignored and abandoned her, and slowly her confidence returned.
There were times when they didn’t see Ballanor for days, and then, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, Alanna would smile.
She would make silly jokes with Keely as they bent their heads over extravagantly detailed embroidery. Or hum quietly as he walked behind her through her favorite parts of the previous queen’s gardens.
