Blood Life (5 page)

“I love him, Father,” she whispered weakly, closing her eyes against the new onset of hot, tired tears.

“I am already aware of that. I heard this morning that you were with Roman, the new understudy.”

“Father, please—” she pleaded, cupping her hands together.

“I cannot believe you were with that man. No, not a man, a peasant last night. I cannot believe the heartbreak you allow your family to go through. Have you no feelings, no heart? We have given you all that you have ever wanted, if not more. Yet, you go against your Royal upbringing to give yourself to the likes of a measly peasant. Tell me why!”

His face was glowing red with anger. He stood up to walk over to the window, needing to move away from his daughter before he strangled her to death. At that moment, the moment of voicing the ugly truth of her adventure, he wanted to kill her. Take her tiny, fragile neck into his enormous hands and shake her like a marionette, waiting for the feeling and sound of the delicate snap that meant he had succeeded in her demise; the moment that she would lie limp in his grasp. The thought satisfied him comfortably.

“Father, please hear me out.” Her soft voice cut through his monstrous thoughts, bringing him back to her room and their situation. “Let me speak and take what I say to heart. I am nearly 21 years old. I will not stand by and watch you arrange for me to marry a man I do not know or love! Indeed, I respect your customs, but I will not tolerate being subject to them if it leaves me a life of uncertainty. If you will not grant my hand to Roman, I will bid farewell to the Morgan fortune and never look back. None of it matters to me when compared to him.” She watched him watch her in disbelief. “I can only hope that you disown me. Release me of the land, the Estate, the name, everything having to do with this family!” Newfound strength danced in her eyes. “Love.” She smirked sarcastically in reflection. “I do not believe that you’re capable. You would happily destroy all that I care for in my heart; a person who could do that does not possess the ability to love!” She breathed dangerously fast, anticipating his response.

The room remained quiet for some time after her final words. Morgan stood quietly with his back to her, gazing out the window at the trees. He turned to look at his daughter, who he could not believe had mouthed such words against him. She was on the bed, sitting on her heels, clutching the bed covers and trembling. Tears trickled down his own bitter face as he moved toward the door. With his hand on the knob he sighed, “Very well.”

Careful not to move until he had left the room, Alexandria dove down, shoving her face into the pillows, bursting into any tears she had left. Elizabeth slipped back into the room and rushed over to her.

She gathered Alexandria up from behind and pressed her forehead into the back of her clammy neck. “Darling,” Elizabeth whispered gently, “give him a chance to think this over. You have surely told him of Roman. Be patient, he needs time to grow accustomed to your demands. Maybe he will come around, but whether he does or not, everything will be right in the end. I promise you that!” Elizabeth could feel Alexandria’s exhaustion and yearning. Her heart broke at the sounds of her lost, shallow sobs.

Alexandria lifted her head from the mass of pillows, turning her body around to face Elizabeth. Her eyes were swollen red from the overproduction of tears. “I don’t think he will ever come around. Stop pretending you believe he will,” she blubbered, choking on her sadness. “You know damn well he will not have this.” She was furious with Elizabeth’s optimism.

“You just wait and see, Alexandria. Be patient and fight for your love, then you will see.”

Elizabeth left her in solitude.

Alexandria sat against the headboard, running her fingers along the seams of her bed covers. “Oh, Roman, if you only knew,” she whispered to the window that beheld the forest. “If you only knew what I am willing to release for you.”

“Love cannot be forced,

love cannot be coaxed and teased.

It comes out of heaven, unasked and unsought.”

−Pearl S. Buck

Six

“His name is Lokee and you will marry him.” Morgan was cruel in his words to her, unwilling to listen or be any part of her dreams of happiness.

“But, Father—” Alexandria begged in disbelief.

“Your mother’s gown will fit you just fine; wear that and meet me in the courtyard in one half of an hour. Do not keep your groom waiting.”

Alexandria couldn’t move. As hard as she tried to send the message to her arm to lift in front of her father in protest, it would not comply. She was left staring at him like an idiot with her mouth open.

“You think this is some sort of joke?” he asked, moving in close to her face to speak.

She flinched at his closeness, wishing she could convince herself to reach over and rip his heart out, shoving it down his throat. She imagined herself watching him choke on it. How bitter would it taste?

His blood on her hands would please her to the point of ecstasy. She reveled in the dream before he broke her concentration with a chuckle, making a sarcastic face as if in response to her thoughts.

Their eyes locked. “Where are your maids?” he asked.

When she didn’t answer, he turned around and called to them, slapping his thigh while he did, like they were dogs and not human beings. “Suzanne, Rebecca, Muriel!”

Three young maids obediently rushed into the room and stopped before their King, giving him a quick curtsy. As custom dictated, they avoided eye contact unless directly addressed.

He nodded at them collectively. “Dress her in the Queen’s wedding gowns; she has no time to fit for her own. Have her downstairs in thirty minutes sharp.”

He looked around them, down the corridor. “Where is your head maid?”

The girls looked at his chest, shaking their heads that they didn’t know.

“Elizabeth!” he roared impatiently over their heads.

He turned back to face Alexandria, putting in a few final words of victory. “You will do this and your precious Roman will bear witness. This shall be the most important day of your life, young lady, and you will cooperate.” He pushed the maids into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

Roman will bear witness.

Alexandria panicked. “Why must you do this to me?” She gasped at the air around her. “Why do you hurt me!” she screamed, burning her throat from the effort.

She jumped up from the bed and flew with inhuman speed toward the closed door. She pounded on it as hard as she could. Opening her hands, she used trembling fingers to claw at the wood, screaming after her father, not bothering to open the door to be heard better. In her heart, she knew it would do no good, but her eruption released at least some of the rage Morgan had brought to life inside of her.

When the onslaught of fury was sated, she lowered her head and slid down to her knees, turning to rest her back against the door. She rested her seat on the hard floor, looking up into the faces of her silent maids. They stared at her, too surprised to intervene.

Muriel, the newest maid employed by the Royal Estate, was the first to break the dense silence, gathering her princess up and steadying her on her feet.

“You must dress, my lady,” she said carefully.

Alexandria looked into Muriel’s eyes, hollow and unresponsive to the suggestion. Instead, she delved deep into her mind, plotting an escape of Fate, an escape from her name and her obligations.

Moving away from Muriel, she headed toward the window. She looked down, wondering if it would be possible to jump to her freedom. Too high, she thought.

Flicking her eyes toward the trees, Alexandria caught a glimpse of Devendra grazing in the field.

Roman!

Her lips quivered as she fought the urge to cry. She slipped over to the door and opened it, peaking around the corners, then back at her busy maids.

Elizabeth arrived, studying her wild-eyed princess who made brief eye contact before hurrying through the corridors.

As much as she knew she shouldn’t, Elizabeth fought the urge to stop Alexandria who managed to get outside and run across the field undetected.

No Roman.

“Where is he?” she whispered to Devendra, who lifted her head from the grass. Her gaze fixed to the east.

“Over there?” she asked, pointing, suddenly realizing she was speaking to a horse. Feeling a sudden sense of his caress along her neck, she closed her eyes, allowing the tingles to rush over her. She spun around to greet him, but he wasn’t there.

Puzzled, she looked around, then was startled to hear him calling to her. She grew anxious, her eyes darting around wildly. Her head swam, threatening to render her unconscious.

Suddenly, his voice and the commotion stopped all at once, snapping her back to reality. She looked up to catch his frame in her window.

She broke for the Estate, making it only to her doorway before being restrained by the King’s dutiful assistant, Marcus. “The gentleman in your room has already been discovered, my lady.”

He cleared his throat at her, sending the smell of the vine on his breath into her face. It filled her nostrils and she threw her head to the side to shield herself from the stench. Nausea swept over her like a wave at high tide. It was too early to smell last night’s wine recycled on morning breath.

“You have disappointed your father greatly, dear Alexandria.”

His expression was sadistic, his grip threatening. With the assistance of two burly guards, Alexandria was escorted into her quarters, kicking and biting any flesh within reach.

As the maids forced garments over her fighting limbs, they continually apologized for being a part of her pain. Eventually, Alexandria became numb, silently allowing the torment, as Roman could be dead at that very moment. She could will herself to follow him if she concentrated hard enough.

Morgan had been known to take innocent lives without so much as a second thought. He would surely take Roman’s. For the first time in her life, Alexandria prayed for death to come and take her to her lover’s embrace, safe and secure, for all eternity.

Once dressed in proper apparel, Alexandria was ushered out to the courtyard for the ceremony. A tall, grim figure stood proudly beside Morgan, with his large hands clasped together.

She glared at him, filled with utter disgust, assuming the stranger to be the groom. Glancing over at the platform that stood proudly at the center of the enormous courtyard, she saw Roman being restrained by guards. His focus was on her, but who stood so earnestly behind him? Squinting and trying to focus on the unfamiliar man, she realized it was the new executioner; the one who firmly believed in inhumane torture as a means of proper discipline.

She gasped at the memory of his ugly words and fresh tears welled up her eyes, blurring her vision of Roman. His hands were being tied to wooden beams above his head. He hung with his legs crossed beneath his beaten form.

Guards stood everywhere, three at each gate and seven surrounding Roman. She cried out as Roman started to fight again, trying to get to her. Nothing could be done; Morgan had complete control. Guards were beating Roman after every word that fell from his parted, exhausted lips.

“Alexandria, come here, dear.” Noticing his daughter’s presence, Morgan motioned for her to take the strange man’s hand. She obeyed, feeling it would be best for Roman; regardless, she squeezed his hand with all her might, wishing to crush it to a pulp.

He smiled at her, tauntingly, displaying two perfectly straight rows of brilliant white teeth.

“His name is Lokee, daughter; he is to be your husband,” Morgan said with a gleaming smile on his face.

Lokee did not acknowledge her resistance; instead he bowed, staring into her hungrily. She evaded his eyes, feeling repulsed and uncomfortable. Thoughts of breaking free and running off with Roman controlled her mind.