Princess Esme's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

For a month, Esme lived in the north tower. Queen Elaine had told the king his daughter wished to study alone. It was a lie. The door stayed locked from the outside. Esme watched the gardens below her window and counted the days. She learned to hate the sound of the key turning. On the thirtieth morning, a guard led her to the throne room. Her father waited on his seat, crown catching the light through the tall windows. Queen Elaine stood beside him, one ringed hand resting on his shoulder. She smiled at Esme the way a cat smiles at a trapped bird. "Daughter," King Cedric said. His beard had more gray than she remembered. "The queen has found you a match. A duke I met years ago on the road. The marriage will strengthen the kingdom." Esme's stomach turned. "A duke? Father, I have never met him. I never asked to marry." "You will grow to care for him," Elaine said gently. "As I have grown to care for your father." The softness in the queen's voice snapped something in Esme. She stepped forward. "You locked me in that tower," Esme said. "You told him I wanted to be alone. You want me gone so no one sees how the staff love me and not you." The throne room went silent. King Cedric's brow drew down. Elaine's face crumpled. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Esme," she whispered, tears spilling fast. "I only tried to help you. I only wanted a family." She turned into the king's shoulder and wept. "Enough!" King Cedric rose. His voice filled the hall. "You accuse your queen with no proof? She has done nothing but care for this house. And you spit at her." "Father, listen to me—" "No." He raised a hand, and it shook. "You will marry the duke. He arrives within the fortnight. Until then you remain in your chambers. That is my word." Esme stared at him. The father who once carried her on his shoulders now looked at her like a stranger. Elaine lifted her wet face just enough for Esme to see it. There, hidden from the king, the queen's mouth curved into a small, cold smile. Two guards took Esme's arms. She did not fight them. She walked out with her chin high, but her hands trembled. Back in her chamber the lock clicked. Esme pressed her back to the door and slid to the floor. Her defense had failed. Worse, it had proven the queen right in her father's eyes. In two weeks a stranger would come to claim her. She wiped her cheeks. If her father would not save her, she would save herself. Somewhere beyond these walls was a life the queen could not choose for her. She would find it before the duke's carriage reached the gates.