The streets are filtering out. The venders had gone home and all that’s left are a few drunks stumbling out of the pub. I get to the stables to find the handler is fast asleep on his stool. I leave a piece of silver in his dead hand and untie Dash from his stable.
“I didn’t think that the women around here would get so darn pretty.”
The voice that stirs me is slurred and menacing. I hold tight to the saddle as I stand there, getting ready to mount Dash. Through the light of the latern that hangs above Dash’s stable, I can see the shadow of a man, sneaking up behind me. I reach for my dagger and hold on tight to the handle.
“Women like you shouldn’t be left alone like that. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”
I turn to face him. He’s tall, with black hair, yellow teeth, and one eye. His drool is practically foam, his foul odor is of endless bottles of whiskey and too many bottles of perfumes rubbed off the breasts of prostitutes. He’s stumbling towards me, saying how pretty I am, how he never thought he’d ever get a chance with a woman like me in a million years.
“I just might have to take advantage of this opportunity.”
He stumbles towards me and reaches out for me, grabbing me around the waist. Everything is happening so fast that in a panic I try reaching for my dagger, but my hands are shaking. The drunk throws me down into the hay and tries to pin me to the ground. Swinging my arms at him, I do whatever I can to fight him off of me.
He doesn’t seem phased by my kicking and screaming and has me leisurely pinned down with his body. He starts ripping my husband’s shirt off and puts his filthy, disgusting lips on my body. I close my eyes tight, praying for it to be over and done with, while I try to release one of my arms from his grip. His grip suddenly loosens as he gets more in to touching me and I’m finally able to reach for my dagger.
The next thing I know, blood is pouring down on me. My dagger is jabbing into his face, his neck, any place that will get him to stop from touching me. And I’m doing it over and over again. He’s screaming, but I still don’t stop. It isn’t until I finally snap out of my trance that I realize that his lifeless body is deprived of his disgusting soul. I killed him.
I push the dead drunk off my body and scatter to stand to my feet. I am in shock, looking down at this bloody scene and I’m not sure what to do.
“What the hell happened in here?”
It’s the stable boy. He heard me screaming and it woke him up. He comes into Dash’s stable to see me standing over the drunk’s dead body with a bloody dagger in my hand and blood all over my clothes.
“Don’t move!”
He runs off to get a royal guard, but before he can return, I quickly mound Dash and burst through the village. As I ride by the tavern, I can see Gefen standing outside when he spots me. He tries flagging me down but I dare not stop. I keep riding until I am as far away from the village and the palace as possible.
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I return to the palace and sneak up to my room using the vines. When I get inside from my balcony, the younger maid, Ilta, is laying in my bed.
“What are you doing in here?” I demand to know.
She sits up straight, her face in a bit of a panic. She nervously pushes back her black silky hair and stands at attention.
“Forgive me, your highness. Elma told me I had to pretend to be you, your highness.”
“She did?”
“It was for your own safety, your highness. I did not mean to offend. I was only doing what I was told.”
I toss my husband’s hat on one of my chairs and jab my hands on my hips, pacing around the room.
“Where is she?”
At that moment she comes bursting in, in a rage.
“Are you trying to get me killed? I just committed treason for you. I had to lie to your husband, told him you were ill.”
“You’re supposed to address me as, your highness.” I say to her.
I’m standing firm, looking over her with my stern face.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Show me some respect,” I say. “I’m sick of you speaking to me as if I were a child.”
“I don’t have to show you any kind of respect because you are a child. You’re worse than a child. You’re a peasant who fooled the prince into marrying you. You don’t deserve any respect.”
After she finishes with her rant I summon the guard outside my door.
“Please show her the meaning of the word, respect.”
“What would you like me to do, your highness?”
I march straight up to Elma. She’s looking at me with a smug grin, showing little to no respect for me. I fling my hand hard across her face and a second time with the back of my hand.
“Lock her up for the night.”
The guard takes her by the arm and she struggles to break free, screaming and hollering at me.
“I’ll tell your husband what you did if you send me down there,” she cries.
“Stop!” I command the guard.
“Perhaps my punishment is too harsh,” I say hesitantly. “I’ll cut your wages in half.”
With my command, the guard takes Elma away.
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