Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) (11 page)

Mariel expanded her chest in anger, but the corset tightened and caused her to gasp for extra air. She remembered to take small breathes, which was hard when she was so angry. “I am not your property.”

The king stopped circling her. He bent toward her ear, his large gut and her wide skirts maintaining a fair distance between them, and whispered so that only she could hear, “You
are
my property. In my hands I hold the power over your life and death . . . and your father’s.”

Mariel stiffened at the threat. Her heart hammered against the prison of the corset and anger like never before coursed through her. She wanted to pull the king’s sword from its scabbard on his belt and thrust it through him. She knew that that act would kill her, even as it killed the king, but she did not care. Then she remembered what Darren and the zreshlans had always taught her about killing: “Do not kill unless your life is threatened and you have no other choice.” Her life was not in jeopardy now, just her freedom.

The king turned and began to walk away. “Come,
granddaughter
.”

“Mariel,” the girl turned as her papa spoke her name, “This is where I say goodbye. You can still walk away, and come with me, or you can follow the king. The choice is yours.” The anger had left his voice. The hope in Darren’s face was too much to bear and she was forced to look away.

The Versati Corps audience who had gathered to watch Darren’s demonstration stared at father and daughter with dumbfounded expressions. Mariel looked back at her papa, letting what felt like rough metal scrape painfully across her skin, so she could memorize him, just as she had memorized her zreshlan home. She wondered if she would ever see him again, or if he would leave forever, feeling betrayed by his only daughter. She could not stay here anymore, standing at the crossroads between her old life and her new one.

In response to Darren’s words she grabbed her skirts and followed after the king. She struggled to blink away the tears clouding her vision as she tripped over her skirts, but she never dared to look back.     

The rain poured from the heavens so fiercely Mariel actually wondered if there were gods and they were spiting her as she pounded on the front door of the convent. She was drenched to the bone, which was saying something with all the heavy fabric she wore, made even heavier now that it was soaked. Wet curls stuck to her forehead and cheeks.

She raised her hand to knock again when the door swung open, revealing a young woman wearing the pale pink robes that marked her as a novice priestess of Narel. The novice’s eyes opened wide. “Milady, I apologize for the wait. Come in from the rain.”

Mariel did not need telling twice.

“Wait here, please. I will tell High Priestess the new student has arrived,” the novice said, looking dejectedly at the lake growing on the floor as water dripped off the newest member of the convent’s famous finishing school, probably thinking about how she would have to clean it up.

The novice returned shortly and Mariel followed her down the hallway. The novice opened a door and announced, “The new student, High Priestess.”

“She is permitted to enter.”

Mariel’s eyes quickly scanned the room, noting what she could turn into a weapon if need be or what might be used against her. Her mind created scenarios and she planned escape routes. She observed what the room held and how it was decorated, which could tell her useful information about the person it belonged to. She was so well trained that she took all of this knowledge into mind, processed, and stored it within moments.

The plainness of the room surprised Mariel. The furniture was of a simple design and the painting of the goddess Narel—to whom the convent was dedicated—was the only form of artwork. Behind a desk sat a thin woman with sharp, angular features and grey hair pulled into a bun.

With only the simple room in mind Mariel thought she might be able to like this woman, but the fact that the high priestess of the convent was to oversee her transformation into a proper noblewoman reminded Mariel that she could not like her.

The next attempt to earn a rejection from Their Majesties was here at the convent, and she needed to begin directly. Mariel intentionally slouched and tripped over her skirts, even though she had learned how to walk in them during her days of travel. Without waiting to be asked, she pulled out the chair in front of the desk and made a show of falling into it. Her skirts tangled and the chair tipped over, spilling a surprised Mariel and her sodden garments on the floor.

The novice cried out in alarm from where she stood holding the door and rushed over to help the girl.

“Leave her,” High Priestess said.

The novice looked at the woman in surprise, but bowed her head respectfully and exited the room, leaving Mariel to untangle herself. Mariel nearly burst with joy and struggled to control the smile that threatened to ruin her calm expression. She had not intended to fall, but that had simply made High Priestess disapprove of her more.

“Sorry, missus,” Mariel said as she managed to pull herself into the chair. “I dinna mean ta fall; these blasted skirts jus’ keep gettin’ in me way.”

To Mariel’s disappointment, High Priestess did not look horrified by her ungraceful entrance nor her street cant.

“I did not offer you permission to sit.”

Mariel opened her eyes wide in feigned alarm, “I ‘poligize, missus, but I dinna think I coulda stood much longer.”

“Cease your improper speech. The queen sent me a letter informing me that your speech is decent, while your manners are severely lacking. There will be no deceiving me, so stop playing the common fool and speak correctly.”

“I don’t suppose the queen also mentioned that I don’t want to be here and intend to make your life miserable?”

The high priestess fixed the unwilling princess with a level stare. Mariel stared back defiantly.

“Looks don’t scare me.”

“And what does frighten you, Miss Mariel?”

“What? No, ‘your Highness’?”

Their eyes locked together, neither one willing to be the first to look away. Mariel felt a grudging respect for the woman’s nerve, but respecting an enemy was one thing, liking her was another.

“Here at the convent of Narel we do not call our young ladies by their titles. You will learn to behave according to your new status. The finishing school at this convent is the best in the kingdom. I have never failed on any young lady and do not intend to start with you. You will be instructed in the arts of dancing, needlepoint, and singing. You will study royal genealogy, penmanship, and learn to speak and write Dremien.” High Priestess said, referring to the language spoken in Drema, with whom Natric was currently at war, and its neighbor Reckive. “You will also be expected to attend temple each morning and learn catechisms and verses that are sacred to Narel.”

Mariel had no intention of paying respects to a goddess she did not believe in, especially one who was the patron of her new prison. She did not fear the ramifications of being disrespectful to the gods, even if they did exist; her being at this convent as crown princess of Natric was just about the worst punishment she could think of.  

The high priestess rose gracefully from her chair and Mariel envied the woman her simple white robes. She swept out of the room without a backward glance. Mariel remained sitting in the chair, unwilling to give the high priestess the power she demanded.

High Priestess returned to the room. “You are still seated.”

Mariel raised her eyebrow in mock surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You have lost supper privileges. Now stand and I will show you to your room.”

Mariel folded her arms across her chest and remained sitting.

High Priestess glared at her. “You have now also lost breakfast tomorrow.”

The girl did not move. “Starving me won’t please the king. He wants to fatten me up.”

“Dinner tomorrow, as well as free-periods for the next week are gone.”

“What am I expected to do during free-periods anyway? Stare at a wall like some high-bred, brainless noblewoman and contemplate what I can best do to serve the king and catch a wealthy husband?”

The priestess’s eyebrows snapped together. “Noblewomen are not idiots. The king may not like you to be skinny, but you will be with us for quite a while—judging from your behavior. Eventually your starving stomach will lead you to obedience. Now rise and follow me before I take away your meals for a week.”

Mariel had felt the pangs of starvation before and it was never a pleasant experience. The prospect of losing meals for a week was not an inviting one and she knew that the high priestess was not going to give way. She glared at the formidable woman, but stood nonetheless.

High Priestess led Mariel down a hallway devoid of decoration and up a flight of stairs.

“If a family pays enough, the young lady is given a room to herself. However, despite your
elevated
position, your grandmother has requested that you share a room, and, since you have brought no maidservant, we will be forced to provide you with one.”

Mariel did not doubt that she was being given a roommate only for the purpose of being spied on. She could not imagine her grandmother being dumb enough to think a roommate would make her uncomfortable. After all, Mariel had spent countless times in human lands sharing rooms, often with farting, snoring people.

All of the doors along the upstairs corridor had a single fox painted on the wood, a different color for each door. The fox was the sacred animal to Narel.

High Priestess stopped in front of a door with a purple fox and showed Mariel inside.

“Miss Cara will be your roommate. She is in a lesson now, but will return shortly. I expect you to be at supper even though you will not be permitted to eat.”

High Priestess closed the door behind her, shutting Mariel into her new prison.

Like the priestess’s office, the room was unremarkable with a desk, two beds, armoires, and soft chairs. A washroom was tucked in a corner. Rain streaked down the window panes and branches from a large beech tree scraped against the glass.

“Welcome to misery,” Mariel muttered.

She wrung out her dripping hair in the washroom and attempted to remove the sodden dress, but was incapable of reaching all of the clasps. Eventually she gave up and sat on one of the two beds. It was soft, but not nearly as soft as the canopy bed in her mother’s old room at the palace. The one night Mariel had stayed there she had found the bed too soft and had ended up sleeping on the floor.  

Mariel lay back on the bed, trying to ignore the feeling of the wet clothes scraping against her skin and the whalebone corset digging into her ribs. Despite the inhospitable meeting with the high priestess, Mariel was determined not to be discouraged. She had no intention of being crowned princess of Natric. To achieve that goal she had to misbehave so badly that the king and queen would decide she was not worth the effort. Mariel laughed aloud, glad to have a challenge.

The first step to being a good spy was to know one’s surroundings. The attempt to appall High Priestess had failed spectacularly and Mariel knew she needed to take stock of the situation before trying again to be thrown out of the convent. She planned on being quiet tonight, so as to better observe the way the convent ran and the people who lived in it. It was necessary to understand the interactions, discover the weaknesses, and then use them to her advantage.

High Priestess had said her roommate’s name was Cara, but had not provided Mariel with any other information. She did not know her roommate’s rank or age, or even where she was from. Did this girl know who Mariel was? Had she been recruited by her grandparents to spy on their unwilling granddaughter?

Mariel sat up at the sound of female voices coming from the other side of the door and what she heard made her previous assumptions about her new roommate vanish.

“Please, stop!”

“Look at her squeal, Isabel!”

“Poor Cara,” said an overly sweet voice. “Your ugly hair is such a mess! We just want to try and make it presentable.”

Laughter and the sound of someone whimpering followed.

“She’s crying,” a girl said, gleefully.

“Can’t stand a little tug on the hair?” the sugary voice asked. “You will never amount to anything. You’ll end up like High Priestess: a first born girl, old, alone, and unwanted. But you don’t have her ambition, so you’ll just be a lowly priestess trapped in a convent forever.” 

Heavy footsteps mounted the stairs and another pair of feet raced along the landing.

“Priestess Maren is coming.”

“Ladies, what is going on here?”

“Cara had something stuck in her hair, we were helping remove it.”

“How kind of you, Miss Isabel, but you are supposed to be in your rooms. Move along, ladies.”

Mariel heard a shuffle of feet and closing doors. The door to her new room opened and a tall, curvaceous girl waltzed in. A fine bone structure exemplified her beauty and her long black hair was piled gracefully atop her head. She wore a simple, wide-skirted purple dress with lace trim. At first, her expression was smug, but turned angry when she caught sight of Mariel sitting on the bed.

“Get off my bed this instant, you drowned rat! How dare you enter my room without permission.”

Mariel saw another girl slip into the room. She also wore a purple dress, but was smaller than the black-haired beauty. She held hairpins in her hand and copper colored hair fell lankly around her pale, freckle spotted cheeks. Tear stains streaked her face and she looked meek and wary, but curiosity burned in her brown eyes.

“Hello,” Mariel said cheerfully to the tall girl.

“Insolent rat!” The girl slapped Mariel across the cheek. “I demand you move at once.”

Mariel’s cheek burned, but she did not let her anger take control. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The meek girl gasped and Mariel glanced over at her.

The tall girl’s anger demanded Mariel’s attention again. “
What
did you say?” 

“Are you daft?” Mariel asked calmly, “I said ‘no’.”

“Exactly who do you think you are?”

Mariel weighed her answer, she could tell this girl that she was the long-lost princess, but that would be accepting the title and position. She decided on a different approach. “No one really. My grandparents decided they wanted me to go to finishing school and didn’t give me any say in the matter. So here I am, sitting on your bed, dripping wet because, if you hadn’t noticed, it’s raining outside.” Mariel pointed toward the window to emphasize her point.

For her behavior, Mariel received another slap across the cheek, but she just looked at the bully calmly.

“You already slapped me once and I didn’t move, did you really think hitting me again would do much good?”

The tall girl’s eyes blazed. “I will report you to High Priestess, what is your name?”    

Mariel smiled wickedly. “Now, I could give you a false name, but I’m sure the priestess will know exactly who you’re talking about, so I suppose I will tell the truth. I’m Mariel Quickwit.” She paused as though waiting for a reply, even though she knew she was not going to get one. “The polite thing would be for you to tell me your name.”