Page 1 of Royal Hunt
One
Lord Cadgan was old and smelled like garlic, and he had already tried to feel me up twice. I was expected to marry him in a few months. Thankfully, as he sat across from me on this crowded bench at court, he was currently much more concerned with how much duck and pheasant he could cram into his mouth than copping a feel up my thigh.
Times had been tough lately, but that didn’t mean all decorum went out the window, did it? Everyone around me—servants and lesser nobles from our estate—grabbed at the food like it would disappear if they didn’t get their fill right this moment. I could excuse everyone’s enthusiasm somewhat; it wasn’t often my household got to eat the same food as the royal family. Food was scarce and hard to grow these days, and it didn’t hurt anyone’s morality to take from the royal family’s table. It wasn’t liketheywould ever starve.
That past decade had been horrific to our realm, or so I’d been told. Growing up, I wasn’t aware of how scarce supplies were or how farms were struggling. It was just how it’d always been. The weather, however, was something I did notice. It would go months without raining, then rain so much that entire fields were buried under a foot of water. Nothing could grow that way—what crops did manage to survive were weak and brittle. The royal family offered no relief, either. I wasn’t schooled like the boys were, but I wasn’t stupid. The royals didn’t hold as much power as they used to. As our lands died, so did our faith in them.
It also likely had something to do with the fact that the royal family were all half-fae.
Apparently, beggars couldn’t be choosers though, because it hadn’t deterred anyone from refusing an invitation to travel to the palace and eat their food, all to celebrate the crown prince’s official engagement to his betrothed.
Everyone around me gorged themselves, but I felt too sick to eat much. Not that I would be allowed to. My father was an asshole like that.
He sat to my left. Various distant cousins and their household members scattered around him. Bits of turkey flew from my father’s mouth like he was starving. The strained fabric around his middle suggested otherwise. And he claimed I ate too much.
“Smile more. People might be nicer to you,” my father grunted.
“Was that the same advice you gave my mother before she hung herself?” I fired back, not having the patience to bicker like usual and going straight for the jugular. From the corner of my eye, I watched with pleasure as his face rapidly cycled from bright red to purple.
“Get all the use out of your foul mouth now. You only have so long before I’ll never have to listen to it again.”
My stomach soured further as I glanced up at Lord Cadgan, who was already leering at the lady to his right.
Pig.
My hands smoothed down the faded, worn dress that had belonged to my mother, letting the soft, olive velvet glide over my fingertips. It didn’t fit me well. I was stout, and not slim as she’d been. According to my father, of course.
Nevertheless, the fur trim was warm and comfortable, but too warm for the heated halls of the castle, and dreadfully out of date. The other girls my age sniggered when I walked by, but I tried to ignore them. It didn’t matter what I was wearing, I’d still just be a country frump to them, and the daughter of a lowly baron. Fine. At least I could run properly with my breeches hidden underneath the layers of my skirt.
I didn’t look like any of them either. My hair was a veritable bird’s nest only tamed by braids. I wore them as often as I could, making intricate designs and threading feathers and jewels into them. They muttered I looked like a heathen.
It wasn’t my fault. I could never brush it to lay straight and neat like most girls. It certainly wasn’t the pale, flowing hair of my mother. Father had no right to criticize my appearance when it washimI favored so heavily.
The fashion was to be slender and delicate. I was neither. I was nearly as tall as my best friend Gregory, and much thicker than any of the other girls at court, who looked like a good wind would blow them over. I thought my size was practical, especially since my manor was a large farm. The rest of the world disagreed.
“I’ve arranged for you to spend time this evening with your betrothed,” my father sniffed, not bothering to be discreet as he scratched himself underneath the table. My back went ramrod straight.
That utter beast. I knew exactly what the purpose of this ‘meeting’ was. Our chaperone would go mysteriously absent, and Cadgan would press his advantage. He was a lecher, and everyone knew it. He’d force me into a position where everyone knew I was damaged goods, and therefore had no way out of the marriage.
I gripped my knife in rage.
The sounds of the hall washed over me, a cacophony of humanity and barely controlled chaos that was overwhelming to someone used to the quiet of the countryside. I wondered where Gregory was in all of this. His family likely had their own table. The only consolation was that he’d be forced to marry soon as well.
Not that I wished him the same misery that had befallen me.
Picturing my best friend from childhood happily married off sent a different kind of nausea rolling through my veins. I stood abruptly from the bench and muttered about visiting the privy before my father could posture too much.
I strolled around the perimeter of the hall, a small fraction of my tension bleeding away as I couldn’t help but watch all the people around me. There wasn’t nearly as much excitement back at the manor as there was here, at court. I wasn’t used to crowds, or seeing such finery in person. I tried not to stare too openly at a woman in a gown of rich green, sparkling with enough diamonds to feed my manor for years. It was as though some families weren’t affected at all by the famine.
Well, the rich never seemed to be affected by much, were they?
Young ladies pranced about in small groups, seeking out marriageable men and testing alliances through flirtatious comments and winks. Their mothers hovered nearby, sharp-eyed but willing to turn away if a moment of debauchery led to a forced trip down the aisle to a wealthy, yet foolish lord. Would my own mother have acted in such a manner had she lived, or would she have allowed me more freedom?
I made my way toward one of the balconies, sighing in relief as the cool air settled my nerves. A glance down revealed one of the many royal gardens, though it was too dark to make much out. The stars twinkled overhead, and only a sliver of the moon was visible. The tinkling sounds of a fountain could be heard, its own soothing song. I closed my eyes, finally relaxing.
“Eve! There you are. Hiding from your betrothed again?”
The corner of my mouth twitched as a familiar figure called from inside the castle, and joined me outside. I smiled at my best friend since birth.
