Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 126: Ch. 125: Yet Another Prince

A FEW DAYS EARLIER

Emma’s stony face stares back at mine and only years of being beside her inform me that her blank expression is in fact, disbelief.

“What, you don’t believe me?” I giggle.

She resolutely shakes her head.

“Well, I can promise you that there will probably be more than one attempt on my life at the hunting competition. In fact, I’ll bet one year’s salary on it,” I say without a single doubt. “But do you want to know something interesting?”

“...”

“Of course, you do,” I continue despite Emma not saying anything. “None of these assassination attempts will be successful.”

.....

“Then why do you call them assassination attempts, your highness?”

“Are you a gambler, Emma?” I counter with a sly grin. I wiggle my fingers menacingly from atop my bedcovers. However, I’m not even sure if she can see their movement in the weak candle light. Due to this long game I’ve been forced to play in, we can only communicate at night when Marie personally escorts Emma to my bedroom under the cover of night.

“... No, your highness.”

“Because one of that day’s assassins will be from none other than myself.” I wink playfully at my closest friend. “I will be attempting to kill myself!”

A shard of glass presses itself on my wrist, a dark street flits through my mind. I shake my head, forcibly removing such painful thoughts from my head. I must focus on the present. Focus on surviving. The Winter who ran away from her problems is dead. I killed her myself.

“Why?” Emma’s small mouth curves downward, an obvious sign of her displeasure.

“Why does one of the assassination attempts have to be from myself? If I told you because it would be more fun, would you believe me?”

“...”

“I can’t leave all the death and murder to everyone else, I want to get in on the action too! It’s not fair everyone else gets a turn at plotting to murder me except for me.” I crow, rolling around the bed as I let out a loud humorless laugh.

“... Someone will hear.” Emma is speaking of the night guards who patrol the halls in the evening. The unfriendly brutes tend to have a strike first interrogate later temperament.

“Ok, ok fine,” I say as I force myself to mellow out from my outburst. “If you wanted to kill me at the hunting competition, how would you go about it?” I ask.

“I’d find a way to separate you from your attendants and lure you into the woods,” Emma answers without hesitation.

“That was a quick response,” I mutter. “But ah, yes! That is precisely what I’m gambling on, the fact that whatever attempted assassination will at least occur within the woods.”

“And if it does?”

I smile devilishly at Emma. “Then I give them a reason to regret it. Bring me that box on my desk, the one that Jack delivered the other day.”

It’s a simple wooden box, but what lies within it is anything but simple.

“It’s a charm,” I say unprompted as Emma sets the innocuous thing between us both. “At least, that was what the merchant promised. I paid a handsome price for this thing. But if it truly works, how wonderful it will be.”

“What does it do, your highness?” Emma finally can’t help but ask. I clap with excitement.

“Why I thought you’d never ask! Have you ever wondered what is the one thing a griffin cannot resist?”

———-

I still vividly remember the utter surprise on Emma’s face when I’d shown her what was in the box and instructed her to bury it. Her mouth had fallen into a perfect O, and I giggle now at the thought.

“My threat makes you laugh?” Julia hisses through clenched teeth, the prior sweetness slipping away like a dream. Something dark glints in her eye, a predator peering out at its prey. I know she’s tasted blood before, even without the whispered rumors about the constant changes her palace’s staff undergoes. But she is a baby beast, untested in the hunt. Unlike the maids who are at her mercy, I won’t sit around and wait for her to kill me.

“Oh no! I was laughing about something else,” I say to placate her rising ire. “I look forward to our hunt. May the best competitor win.”

My knees feel like jelly, but you’d never know from the confident smile I flash towards Julia and the seated noblewomen as we walk towards the “safe” section of the woods.

“Hmph!” Julia stomps ahead of me, unable to watch me take lead. Under the warm May sun, her knife flashes menacingly by her side. She doesn’t hold it properly, my sole consolation as we walk towards a place that could very well become my grave if I’m not careful enough with my next few steps.

But we are only halfway to the woods when a horse’s loud whinny draws our attention away from the cordoned off area. The object that I had secretly clutched within my fingers slips into a pocket in one smooth motion. There are thousands of excuses in the world, but none of them would explain why I, a princess, am currently carrying a tiny vial of a single male griffin’s blood.

Before we talk about the foreign prince and his delegation that have just crossed our path, how about a short biology lesson on griffins?

A cross between a lion and an eagle, griffins are only one of the many fearsome not so mythical foes that differentiate this world from my previous one. In this stretch of woodland, they are certainly the most dangerous, particularly now during their nesting season when they have their newborns to feed and protect. Immensely territorial and crazy protective over their young, it goes without explaining what would happen if perhaps, a nursing griffin scented a stray male griffin within its territory.

“And you are?” Julia exclaims first at the crossroads. She seems less angry and more curious, which is justifiable considering the unique dress the prince and his delegation sport.

His youthful arms still had yet to gain the bulk of adulthood, each encircled with an armband as gold as my eyes. He’s completely shirtless, a deep caramel tan covering all visible skin. He has a regal bearing about him, even as he smiles down in a friendly manner from his steed. The prince looks like he’s on the cusp of finishing middle school or starting high school, placing him right around 13 or 14 years old from my initial observation. If he were in either, there is no doubt in my mind his piercing green gaze and high wattage smile would make him immensely popular amongst teenage girls.

But as a future husband candidate, I’m afraid I find him rather lacking.

“Forgive me,” he says with a distinct accent, sliding off its back in one smooth motion. Neatly woven sandals meet the grass as he strides over to us. “I am Prince Amir, the fourth prince of Aidel. It seems you are off to hunt. May I join you two?”

“I am Princess Julia. This is my sister, Princess Winter,” Julia says, taking the lead to curtsey to the bowing prince as I follow suit.

Julia appears mildly interested, the arrogant twist of her brow melting into her otherwise pretty face. You’d never guess that this adorable bundle of a girl was obsessed with her oldest brother.

“I’m afraid that our hunt will not interest you. We are just girls as you can see, our prey will be nothing more than rabbits and other such prey.” Julia is swift in curving his self invitation.

“Oh?” His green gaze slides over to me, although he finds nothing of interest on my poker face. “Then I suppose it is good I only have no armor or proper weapon on me.”

I internally roll my eyes. As the face of a foreign delegation, even for a less formal hunting competition such as today, it would be illegal for Prince Amir to have either. However, having the prince around will make for a fine distraction, one good enough that sneaking away and luring the griffin towards me would be a piece of cake.

“Come if you’d like, but don’t protest if it’s less fun than you imagined! Oh and don’t bring so many men with you. You’ll frighten all the game away,” I pipe up just as Julia is about to find a way to politely dissuade the prince. Now that I think of it, he should make for a handy distraction for me to release the griffin’s blood in my pocket.

“You-!” Julia manages to whisper at me through gritted teeth. I smile sweetly back at her. I’ll be a tad disappointed if she has no other countermeasures, as it just shows that Empress Katya saved her best lessons for me alone. That one’s position is not what grants them power, but what they do with it.

“Why can’t the prince join us? It’s completely safe there, unless...” I allow my words to trail off and tap my chin as if I’m on the verge of connecting the dots.

“Of course, it’s perfectly safe!” Julia fumes. Her venomous gaze lands upon Prince Amir’s grinning face, but it lacks any hint of smugness or arrogance as if he were a clean slate of a personality. I know very little about Aidel, but as a kingdom that allows men to marry multiple wives, there is no way a prince could grow up to be so pure in a palace that may be even more chaotic than our own.

I can’t help but give Prince Amir a second look as we reach the boundary between grass and tree. The gold armbands around his arms look even more beautiful up close, displaying intricate carvings that my now keen eye for luxury can tell must have taken hours of fine craftsmanship to create.

He doesn’t seem to notice, marveling at the luscious green that he even reaches out to touch. His fingers are blunt and strong, plucking a leaf from a branch. “Our trees do not look like this at home. Just one of the many differences between Aiden and this empire, I suppose.” He twists it between his fingers. “In Aiden, even royal men participate in the hunt. Why do the emperor and the princes simply watch?”

Curiosity rings through his tone, but the landmine in his question is obvious, even to Julia.

She bristles immediately. “I’ll have you know that the men of our family are all extremely proficient on the battlefield! Perhaps if you are unlucky enough, you will have the opportunity to find out for yourself,” Julia trails off darkly. They are bold words for someone dressed in a frou-frou, fluffy dress better suited for a refined tea party than a trek through the woods on foot.

The few guardsmen who’ve accompanied us into the woods bristle and I finally roll my eyes. As members of the imperial family, our every word must be more careful than most. If Princess Julia’s words were overheard by the wrong party, it could be misconstrued as a declaration of war from the Erudian Empire.

“What my dearest sister means is that our brothers who are especially fond of sparring would appreciate the opportunity to cross swords with you before you leave,” I immediately add to mitigate the damage.

Julia, having realized the error in her words, nods obediently although I can see her hands curl into a fist by her side. I cannot wait until she sees what I will do whenever she decides to follow through with her threat. The bottle of blood rolls around in my pocket as I actively wonder where it would be best to lure the griffin within the myriad of forestry and woodland that have overtaken the scenery.

I’m getting the same heady feeling I felt in Augustus’ tent before I threatened him with the letter opener to my neck. It’s exciting. Exhilarating.

Dangerous.

Prince Amir appears unfazed by Julia’s outburst, his sunny temperament not dimming in the slightest. “It would also be my great pleasure to do so, although I must confess the true swordsman in my family is not I, but my older brother, the crown prince.”

“Perhaps you are being humble,” I propose.

“Perhaps.” He gives me a look now, like one competitor acknowledging the other. His next words are far quieter, but I hear them clear as day. “Or I simply understand sometimes it is more powerful to lower one’s sword rather than raise it. As your father has done today.”

“Huh?” It’s a record screech moment, the kind that jolts me out of the conversation.

“The emperor, he kept looking in this direction as I rode here,” Prince Amir states as he strides through the woods with more confidence than someone who’s never been in a forest would have. “He is worried for his children, no? He does not want you to worry about his well-being, hence why he does not participate. You are lucky to be so appreciated by him.”

I can only stop in my tracks and gape at Amir, whose piercing green gaze has taken on a nostalgic sheen.

“I’m sorry, what?” I chuckle, not quite sure if I heard the foreign prince right.