A cacophony of maids flutters about me like the birds in Snow White. I’m pulled, prodded, and painted. By the end of this little dance, I’ll look like a princess. That’s kind of what they’re going for, after all.

Today’s the day of the ‘duel for my heart.’

By this afternoon, I’ll know what path my life’s trajectory is on for the foreseeable future.

Prince Christopher will be the most restrictive of the two. Talking to him is easy. He’s a nice guy. He’ll provide me some autonomy, but he’ll want kids. Christopher even indicated that we could travel to satiate some of my desires to see the world.

Most of all, Christopher seems like a pushover, no offense to him. I can use that. I’ll have to find a way to escape him eventually, but not immediately after marriage. That’s still risky. He’s the King’s son after all, even if only the eleventh prince. Future plans will need to be made with the utmost care.

Then there’s Gai.

Outwardly, I frown at his name.

Gai’s the most perverted person I’ve ever met. I could tell our entire date was just an attempt to get in my pants. Still, I can’t say it was boring, even with his intentions and even putting past the blatant sexual advances and severe trauma he gave me after our date.

We have a surprisingly large amount in common, but he’s unreliable with no boundaries. Unlike Christopher, who’ll, at a minimum, be okay with only having sex to make children, which will never happen, Gai will expect it consistently absent the procreation aspect. Plus, I don’t know if I can trust him, especially after what he pulled a few days ago. He’s lucky to be alive.

I shiver. “Why do I have to be objective about this bullshit?” I mutter quietly and angrily.

“Too tight?” one of the maids asks as she cinches my dress behind my back.

“It’s fine,” I grunt.

“It’s not. Her face is going red,” mentions another maid.

“I’m fine,” I repeat.

“She’s just nervous about the duel,” says the maid tightening the dress.

“What’s there to be nervous about? Two handsome men wish desperately to have her hand in marriage,” says one of the maids. “Whatever shall she do?”

“I hear our lady already has a preference, though,” gossips another.

The group giggles.

I sigh.

Staring down at my dress, I try to recoup my thoughts. It’s a simple, black, strapless piece with a slit going down the right leg. The back is tied with an intricate amount of strings. One false move, and I’m flashing people. The maid is taking her time to ensure that does not happen.

Who the hell made such a stupid dress, anyways? It objectively looks good on me, but that’s beside the point!

My hair is delicately done. While I usually keep it in a ponytail, the strands have been styled today. That hair is interwoven into loopy braids that connect to a mess of fluffy hair formed perfectly behind my head. My bangs look nice and bouncy as they curve and curl around my face.

A maid stands before me adding eyeliner around my eyes.

Eyeliner. In medieval times. The culture of this world is so strange. Modern and medieval everywhere. There are no cars, but they have makeup. They have hoodies, but no yoga pants. And what I would give for a sports bra instead of my bandages. This world is still so strange and I have no answers for why.

Instead, this marriage garbage is holding me back.

“How was it?” the maid asks.

“How was what?” I question.

“You know.” The maid smiles a bit. “Your…visitor the other night.”

The maids all giggle again.

Great job killing the rumors, Remi. I see that whatever you did worked really well.

“What visitor do you happen to be talking about?” a voice suddenly calls.

It’s my mother. She stands in the doorway of my now open room. She stares about with curiosity.

Silence.

“Nothing,” I drone. “Active imaginations.”

“Hmmm, all right then.” She looks me up and down. “You're stunning.” Mother claps her hands. “That’s enough. You may all go.”

Looks of horror placate the faces of my maids. They realize how close they came to making me look like a whore in front of my mother. It’d be an incorrect assessment since nothing happened.

“Where’s my little bro at?” I jest to move the conversation elsewhere. There’s not a lot for me to talk about with my mother.

“He’s with Sonya for the day and will not be joining in today’s festivities.”

Lucky him.

Mother continues to gaze at me.

I blink. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s hard to imagine you growing up into such a beautiful, refined young woman,” Mother says with an air of superiority.

“If you say so.”

Mother frowns. She jerks her head into the hallway. “Walk with me. The event will be starting soon.”

The two of us pad down the hallway. It’s weird. No guards or maids tail us. We’re together. Alone. I think this is the first time since I was a baby. She fed me in a chair with Sonya loitering around. Other than that, we’ve never really interacted.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you before things go into motion today,” says my mother.

“Okay.”

“I’ve…made a similar sacrifice as you are about to.”

I stare blankly ahead.

“It’s the burden we bear as women of high society. We do not marry for love. Put it out of your mind. It’s better that way,” whispers Mother sadly. “It’s a hard burden. I wish you were a man. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

For the first time in my life, my mother expresses real emotions towards me. They aren’t hidden by the veil of nobility. Her true feelings. And what do I think of them? Am I happy? Angry? Depressed?

I don’t know.

“I’m glad the event with the Astra family fell through. After I heard what that boy had done to you.” Mother cringes. “How his family, my friend, defended him. How they blamed you. All I felt was…pity.”

My eyes narrow though I do not look her way. “How comforting.”

Mother turns to me. Her features are weak with emotions. “You must not think of me as a very good mother.”

I don’t respond.

“It’s alright. I wasn’t. Not to you. I never wanted to be one.” Mother wipes the edge of her eye. “Can I tell you a story?”

I opt to remain silent.

Taking that as a cue to speak, my mother begins her tale. “There was a man I loved back in my hometown. He worked for my family as an apprentice blacksmith. We’d sneak off into the night. He’d talk about taking me away, freeing me from the burden of my life.”

Sounds familiar…

“He never could.” Mother smiles sadly. “I married your father. I protested, of course. Who wants to marry a man they’ve never met while leaving behind the person they sincerely loved? I wanted to paint while Eric worked his own shop. That was our dream, but it was not meant to be. My father broke Eric’s hand. He threatened to remove it if I did not listen to him. So I did. I left my life behind to keep him safe. At least one of us could be happy someday.”

My eyes droop. The emotional tale begins to lower my guard. I stare at my mother. Her sad eyes burn into the ground as we walk forth through the hallway.

“To be honest, I…hated you,” Mother mutters as if she’s ashamed of herself.

I stare sharply up at the ceiling. “I know.”

“I’m…sorry…for that.” The words hit the air like shattered glass. “All I could see when I looked at you was the life I left behind. The life that would soon be your own, devoid of choice, of love. I… didn’t want that for you. I didn’t. I kept thinking…you might be better dead.”

I feel like I should be crying right now. Why don’t I feel sad? Not even a little? Why don’t I care?

We walk in silence for a few more moments.

“The two men seem to like you. The prince and the baron’s son,” says my mother. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffs, clearing her nose. “It’s better that way. You’ll be happier, even if you don’t feel the same way.”

I say nothing for the longest time. “Do you know what I got from that story?”

Mother says nothing.

“There was one person in this castle who knew the pain I was going through and could have been there for me through all this suffering, yet she let me struggle alone. Not only did she not try to help me, she made me feel even lonelier because of her own pain and selfishness.” I look at my mother. “Did you think your pitiful story would make me forgive you? Bring us closer? Whatever your intentions, all it did was confirm for me how fucking pathetic you are.”

Mother staggers, falling behind me, her steps soft and weak.

I move on ahead unperturbed by her failings.

I arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard moments later with my mother trailing behind me slowly. In the same place where I saw magic-like gifts for the first time, I shall watch two men fight for my hand in marriage.

Three thrones stretch out upon the balcony. They stare down at the surroundings. Our seats for the day.

The courtyard, a usually vacant, lazy area, is now filled to the brim with people. Tables are set about containing food and drink. Servants move effortlessly between talking nobles, serving them at their leisure.

In the middle of the courtyard, a wooden circle is set up. The battle will likely take place there.

This goes to show how boring life is without technology. Real people are taking time out of their day to watch two people fight over who gets engaged to a baron’s daughter. It’s absurd. That’d never happen if there was television. The lack of entertainment is so intense that any little thing that qualifies as such garners almost too much participation from crowds.

“Good morning, Scarlet. The day has arrived,” my father mentions as my mother and I arrive. He’s already positioned in his seat in the middle.

Mother takes the empty throne to his right while I take the left. She hasn’t said a word since we last spoke.

“That it has,” I reply.

“There are a lot of people here today. Many of the nobles from the prior party stayed in town to watch this event. There’s a lot of buzz about. You should be happy people are so invested in your life,” Father commends.

“Yes, I’m ecstatic. Couldn’t ask for anything more,” I reply blandly.

Father scowls at me. I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my head.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I look about nonchalantly.

Father leans forward into my ear. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but at least look happy. Don’t embarrass me today. You've been given plenty of time to deal with this eventuality.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.”

We sit in silence for a moment.

“At the very least, we’ll have a prince connected to our family. This won’t have been a complete loss,” expresses my father.

I glance over at him. “You expect Prince Christopher to win?”

Father slouches in his chair. “The servants say he’s been practicing non-stop since the challenge was made. On the other hand, Mr. Regal appears to spend most of his days sleeping. Hopefully, this event is not too one-sided. The prince is honorable. I expect him not to go overboard.”

As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with my father’s assessment. Gai’s too easygoing for me to picture him winning a fight. He has a sword, but I think it might be for show only. He’s said he travels a lot, and that may be true, but that doesn’t mean he’s a fighter, or a good one, rather. I don’t even know if he has Divine Treat abilities, but I feel like he would have bragged about them by now if he did.

“But we shouldn’t be so quick to judge people,” admits my father after some time.

Huh?

“He is Baron Regal’s son. Talbert was able to confirm it, though I had my suspicions. No baron would allow their son to go through life without formal combat training. It’d dishonor the family,” mutters my father. “Now, does that compare to the training of a prince? I doubt it, but we shall see.”

Huh.

Then Gai is who he says he is.

That’s…odd. I had my suspicions as well. I mean, he had a badge, but he could have stolen that.

“Whoever wins will reap benefits for our family regardless of the outcome,” says my father. “If the Regal son wins, we’ll have stronger political influence on the coastal ports. If the Prince wins, we’ll have a direct line of contact to the Zalevet throne. Either tiding is a favorable outcome.”

“I’m glad you think so, Father,” I express coldly. My face remains forward.

Father sighs. “What is wrong?”

“It’s odd not to marry for love. I’m still coming to terms with it if I’m being honest. It’s made me feel like an object, and I’m not fond of it.”

“People of our status do not marry for love. Only commoners have that luxury.”

“So I’ve been told.”

A horn blares. It catches all our attention. The conversation ceases as our eyes shoot downward towards the square.

Some servant holds a trumpet to his lips. The little melody shortly concludes as soon as it starts. Beside him, Nigel stands at attention. He’s in his full Captain’s garb for the day. The black armor with the white scarf, a sign of the soldiers of Baron Embers. It’s a unique look, I’ll give my father that. Captain Van Gallan watches from the sidelines appraising his would-be successor.

“Welcome,” Nigel bellows. He steps forward into the center of the impromptu arena.

The guests gather around. They carry food, drink, and quizzical expressions.

“The duel for the right to marry Scarlet Embers, the progeny of Baron Johnathan Embers and Lady Madeline Embers, will begin shortly,” continues Nigel. “but first, the rules. For the guests, no throwing items into the ring. Anyone caught doing so will be escorted off the premises. You may boo and cheer as you desire. As long as that conduct does not directly interfere with the performance of our combatants, it will be tolerated within reason.”

Booooooring! I’d love to see Gai get smacked in the back of the head with a half-eaten piece of chicken. That’d make the day much, much better.

“Let us introduce our challengers.” Nigel gestures towards the crowd. He raises his hand. “Our first contestant, Prince Christopher Zalevet, Eleventh Prince of the Kingdom of Zalevet.”

Christopher walks forward from out of the crowd. He waves to many cheers. His preppy blonde hair looks just as dashing as always. Even in a world without sophisticated hair care products, it seems the prince has found a way to make it look ‘naturally’ wavy.

Upon his body is a light set of white armor. It looks heavy. There’s even an intricate white cape laced with gold upon his back. In fact, there’s gold lining most of his armor. At least, the color is. I do not know if it’s actually gold, though it wouldn’t surprise me if it were.

At his hip sits his sword. A long blade with a crazy handle. I still can’t get over the way that thing looks. It must have taken a master craftsman weeks to get that handle and guard to look that way.

“For our next combatant, son of Baron Hazien Regal, Lord Gai Regal!”

Gai walks forward.

I cringe, slapping my forehead.

Gai yawns. His hand lazily moves over his mouth. His hair looks dirty as if he woke up and came over mere seconds ago. You know, that’s likely exactly what he did because he’s wearing pants, boots, and a half-tucked button-up shirt. That’s it! No armor! Yes, he has his sword, but nothing else of value. He doesn’t even look like he cares.

“Disgraceful,” I hear my father mutter silently to himself.

I look over. He’s staring daggers into Gai’s body. My mother merely shakes her head.

Guess this is decided then. I don’t even know why Gai came. He’s so half-assed.

The bright side is that he’ll probably get gravely wounded and embarrassed, so at least this day isn’t a total bust.

My tongue slides nervously over the top of my lip.

Yay…a Prince’s wife. That’ll be…awesome…

The crowd is lukewarm to Gai’s entrance. No one really claps nor cheers. A few people do, but not to the same degree as Christopher.

I can feel it in the air. Everyone’s already accepted a win from Christopher.

Nigel clears his throat as Gai steps into the ring. “Are you okay, my lord?”

“Me?” Gai blankly points at his face. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Do you need time to change into more formal attire?” Nigel suggests.

Gai grins. “No, I’m not really that worried.”

Christopher grits his teeth. Anger builds in his eyes, but he remains silent. “I’m not worried if he isn’t.”

Nigel looks between the two men. After a moment, he shrugs. “If both combatants are ready, please, stand across from each other while I relay the rules of this tourney.”

Christopher walks forward. Gai does the same. They stand before each other, staring into each others’ eyes much like a weigh-in for a professional boxing match. It’s entirely awkward in almost the same way.

“The rules are simple. Divine Treat abilities are prohibited in this fight to ensure the safety of the surrounding guests. Swords only. The battle will end when one person is no longer able to fight. This will occur when a combatant is incapacitated, killed, or yields. I will call the fight if it appears someone will die, but there is always a possibility action may proceed too quickly to interfere. Feel free to fight with as much vigor as you can muster. Our castle healer is an Admix with advanced healing capabilities, so your lives are in safe hands should something tragic occur. Are the combatants ready?” asks Nigel loudly.

Both men nod.

“Then you may…begin!”

Cheers erupt from the crowd.

The action doesn’t begin immediately. Christopher draws his sword. His posture is good. He’s clearly had a lot of training. Gai, on the other hand, yawns for the second time since coming out here. His sword remains sheathed at his hip.

Christopher grimaces. “Pull out your sword, coward!”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Gai nods. He pulls his blade out.

It’s an interesting design. The blade’s handle is black, as is the guard. The wrist protector between the edge and the handle is shaped like an ‘X.’ Each stem of the ‘X’ stretches out, then moves upward towards the blade-like spikes of a claw.

Gai does not take a stance. Instead, he comfortably jabs the tip of his blade into the dirt.

I cringe a little.

Christopher scowls. “Yield or I shall cut you in half.”

“Try. It’ll be funny.”

Where is this cockiness coming from? It’s almost like when I first…started…training…with…

No, Gai isn’t—

Christopher swings forward with a downward cut. It’s a lethal blow meant to disable a person.

Gai naturally dodges it. He doesn’t lift his blade. With a simple motion, the strike skirts him narrowly as Gai comfortably sways away.

Another swing.

Another dodge. An effortless motion, almost like wind.

This bout of swings and dodges continues unimpeded for minutes. As the time goes on, my jaw drops further and further.

“The Prince had good technique,” my father judges.

Screw his technique! How can Father be so oblivious?! Gai is weaving away from every slice like a professional. Even now, he saunters away from killing strikes. The man hasn’t even lifted up his sword yet.

This is why he’s been so half-assed?! He’s a genius!

“Gaaaaah!” Christopher goes for another overhead slice like the one he opened with.

Gai, for the first time, lifts his sword out of the ground. A spray of sediment follows with his blade. He closes the gap between him and Christopher, swings upward with the flat of his sword, and smacks the prince hard on his wrist.

Christopher cringes. He drops his sword. It falls towards the dirt and sinks in flawlessly, a testament to the sharpness of its edge.

The crowd is struck with silence.

I’m on the edge of my seat, fingers gripping the sides of my throne.

“Did I do that?” Gai asks sarcastically. He saunters over to the sword in the dirt. Christopher watches him in horror. Gai picks up the blade. He tosses it in his hand, letting the sharp steel rotate in a circle, before calmly catching it by the blade between his fingers. He hands it over to Christopher. “Here you go. Try not to drop it again, okay?” Gai bows to Christopher, having taken a cautious step back. In a deep voice, he bellows. “Now, let us begin!”

Nigel stares at the man with abject curiosity.

Christopher nervously obliges, though his form is more cautious. He isn’t being as sporadic with his swings. They’re more refined and delicate. Not the same heavy smacks from before.

Even so, clashing metal rings through the air. With each hit sliced towards Gai, they are effortlessly deflected away in the same vein. Gai doesn’t hold a form. The blade merely sits at his side. He brings it up only when wholly necessary.

I…this is amazing!

My eyes glaze around the crowd. Some faces look on in confusion, though they haven’t realized the inevitable loss of Prince Christopher yet. Nigel understands. He’s stopped overseeing Gai. Now his focus is on the prince. Some of the guards have discerned this as well.

Then there’s Master Talbert. He stands amongst the nobles. His eyes are alight with delight at the display of steel. A smile, a rare sight for him, stretches across his lips at the sheer production of technical genius occurring before us all this day. Captain Van Gallan stands beside him. They chatter excitedly to each other.

“Grahhh!” cries Christopher. His hair is out of place, he’s sweating, and his swings are getting weaker. “Take this seriously!”

“The people want a show!” Gai roars back with a devilish smile.

“You mock me!”

“A little, yeah.”

“There is no honor in what you are doing!” Christopher spits into the dirt. “Disgraceful!”

“Me?” Gai lackadaisically points at himself. “I’m the disgrace?”

“No. You’re a coward. Dirty scum who lucked out in life to be born a noble. If life were fair, you’d be a gutter rat orphan starving in the dirt,” spits Christopher. He’s angry. It’s a side of him I have not seen. “Any good family would be ashamed to have you as their son!”

Gai’s face darkens.

“I—”

Christopher is immediately cut off.

Gai lurches forward. It’s quick, almost like a glitch in reality. The world seems to suck in momentarily as my vision blurs. I have to blink a few times to reset my brain.

Gai is suddenly behind Christopher.

Christopher swings wildly at where Gai used to be.

It’s no use.

Killing intent fills Gai’s eyes. He kicks at the back of Christopher’s knees. The prince jolts forward, falling to the ground.

Gai grabs the man’s hair. The golden locks the prince is so proud of become a detriment, a tie to pain. Gai quickly pulls backward with his hand. Christopher sits on his knees groaning as his top half is pulled backwards from the force. His neck reclines until he’s facing upward at Gai standing over him.

The blade in Gai’s hand is positioned oddly as if to stab down into the prince’s agape mouth.

There’s hatred in Gai’s eyes. A desire to kill.

It makes me shiver.

Gai leans forward.

Christopher cringes. His eyes close.

Nigel shouts.

The crowd shrieks.

I bite the bottom of my lip.

And…

Gai kisses the top of the prince’s forehead. He slowly stares into his eyes. It causes Christopher’s face to pale.

Gai releases him.

Christopher falls forward. He gasps into the earth.

The crowd is stunned into silence once more.

Christopher, still breathing, manages to grab his sword. He tries to raise it, but a voice interrupts him.

“The match is called for Lord Gai Regal!” Nigel bellows. He nervously eyes the prince. Any farther and the outcome might become one that cannot be taken back.

It’s…over?

Really?

“Stunning,” mutters my father.

The crowd apparently feels the same way.

Nobody moves for a while.

Mother, regaining her focus, nudges Father with her foot.

Father clears his throat and stands. He intakes breath. “Then by my declaration here today, I affirm of Gai Regal the right to marry my daughter. They are, here-forth, engaged to marry.”

Gai, oddly enough, sheathes his sword. He bends down on one knee before my father, still down in the arena, and lowers his head. “I accept.”

Silence.

Then cheering.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Prince Christopher slowly leave the courtyard. His eyes continually look up at me with what looks like immense sadness before exiting my view to rejoin the guards he’d brought with him on the journey to Castle Grey.

My eyes advert back over to Gai.

He looks at me. Too much so. He doesn’t blink.

A second later, he winks.