I Can't Be Mated to Him

*Blanca* I trail my fingertips along the rough stone wall of the dungeon as I walk briskly along, keeping my shoulders hunched and my head down. In my other hand, I carry a bucket of water and a ladle. Down here, I should be safe from the ridicule I face on the upper levels of the castle, but occasionally, a guard or two will mess with me. It’s easier to avoid them if I’m invisible. When I was a little girl, I got it into my head that not looking at people somehow made them unable to see me. Now, I know better. Yet, I still find myself staring at my holey boots most of the time. When I reach the first cell, I pause. “Water?” I offer the man caged inside of the small space the ladle. This cell has no windows, and it’s hard to see because the light from the few lanterns on the walls only reaches so far. But I know his face. I know his name. I know his story. I know all of their stories. He comes over and takes the ladle, drinking thirstily before I refill it, and he empties it again. “You’re an angel,” he whispers. “You’re welcome, Clive.” I smile at him, glad to be appreciated, even if it is by alleged murderers and thieves, and then move to the next cell. I make my way as quickly as I can, hoping to make it to every cell before I’m discovered and hauled back up the stairs. My parents have forbidden me to come down here, but I do it anyway. I’ve seen the slop and dirty water these poor people are given, and I can’t stand the thought of them suffering for a drink when I can help them. If there was ever such a thing as a trial in all of the kingdom of Dun’s Crossing, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so inclined to help, but in my mind, it should be innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around. I move to one of the cells that has a window and pause to watch the man inside. Tall, with dark hair the same shade as my own, this prisoner has always been my favorite. When he makes a low humming sound in the back of his throat, several large black birds move to perch between the bars of the small opening high in the ceiling. I can never tell if they are ravens or crows, but their shimmering blue-black feathers are beautiful to me. “Water?” I ask, like I always do. He turns to look at me, an amused expression on his face as he saunters over. His long black tunic and pants are filthy and torn, but he looks majestic anyway, like he would be better suited for a wizard’s study or a throne room than a dirty dungeon beneath Wilbury Castle. “Still playing fast and loose with the rules, huh, Princess?” he asks as he takes the ladle from my hand. I shrug. “If I get in trouble, it wouldn’t be the first time, Mr. Blake.” “How many times have I told you not to call me mister? You’re a princess and I’m–” “What are you exactly?” I interrupt him. I’ve never been brave enough to ask the question of him. Unlike the others, his story is hazy in my mind because he doesn’t want to tell it. I tend not to speak to anyone when it can be avoided. While Mr. Blake has always made me feel comfortable, I’ve never asked that burning question. I’m not sure what makes me ask it today. Yet, here it is, falling from my lips. Rather than offering me a suitable answer, he chuckles and finishes the water from the ladle. “I am a prisoner.” “Yes, I know that.” I practically roll my eyes, but I don’t. Mother slaps me in the face when I do that. “I mean….” I gesture at the birds that are still sitting on the window ledge, patiently waiting for his attention. “What are you?” “Some say I’m a madman,” he begins, dipping the ladle back in and taking another drink before he continues. “Others say I’m a murderer. Or a magician. The king thinks that I’m his arch nemesis.” “But why?” I ask. “Why are you here?” “Why are any of us here, my little raven?” He reaches up and tugs a strand of my hair the way a father might a beloved daughter. I smile up at him, wishing my own father would take such an interest in me. “Your king spoke the words, and now here I am. And here I shall be until he says otherwise.” I want to tell him that when I am queen, I will release him, but we both know I’ll never have a chance to rule Dun’s Crossing. That honor will fall to Prince Kieran. Even thinking of him makes my stomach tighten up. The high and mighty Kieran–Crown Prince of Dun’s Crossing. Tall, muscular, and handsome, with white-blond hair like the rest of the royal family. All the women want to be his mate, his bride. If they knew the truth–that he is mean, viscous, and cruel, they would gather their skirts and run. He also happens to be my twin brother, but no one would ever guess that to look at us. And he treats me like he thinks I belong down here with the very prisoners I do my best to help. “I wish I could let you out,” I whisper. Mr. Blake reaches through the bars and pats my cheek. “You’re a good girl, little raven.” He always calls me that, probably because of my black hair. I open my mouth to thank him, but I don’t get the words out before I hear footsteps pounding toward us and look over to see my brother coming toward us in a rage, his icy tresses flowing out around his shoulders as he rushes over. “There you are, you worthless filth. Father has us all searching the whole damn castle for you. Get your ass upstairs to the throne room now, you little bitch.” For just a moment, as I stare into his light blue eyes, I wish one of those birds on the windowsill would fly over and poke his eye out. It’s a flash of a thought, one I’d feel embarrassed to admit I’ve ever had in my life. He is my brother, after all, and I shouldn’t be so cruel to him just because he hates me. But before I can even open my mouth to tell him I’ll come along with him, I see a flash of black and blue careening toward him. Kieran raises his hands to protect himself as one of the birds comes flying at his face, squawking, raising its talons, and aiming directly for his eye! “No!” I shout. Kieran swings at the bird, cursing and trying to knock it away. I cover my mouth in horror as blood drips from my brother’s face. Mr. Blake makes that sound in the back of his throat, and the bird immediately flies back through the bars. Kieran stands there for a second, one hand pressed to his face, blood dripping down his arm. “Are you okay?” I move to help him, but he swats at me, pushing me away. “Leave me the f**k alone!” he says. “You stupid b***h! And you!” He turns toward Mr. Blake, one hand still pressed to his injured eye. “You did that, didn’t you, you psychotic asshole!” “I’m sorry, Prince Kieran, but I can’t take credit for that,” Mr. Blake says calmly. “I wish I could.” “You f*****g jackass. You’re going to pay for this. Guards, give him fifty lashes!” Kieran shouts as he turns to walk back upstairs. I see some guards moving in Mr. Blake’s direction. Turning to him, tears prickle in my eyes. “No!” “It’s all right, little raven,” he assures me. “I will live to see you another day.” My mouth drops open as the guards brush by me. I hear Kieran shouting for me near the stairwell and remember that my father has called for me. If I don’t go now, I’ll end up getting a beating myself. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. He says, “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” The guards grab him and drag him to the back of his cell, and I have to go. I can’t stand here and watch them beat him for something he didn’t do. One thought burns in my mind as I follow my brother up the stairs, his crimson droplets of blood on every other step: I hate Prince Kieran Solberg with all of my being.