Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 80: Ch. 80: Safe and Sound

The look of shock on Augustus’ face makes him look more childish as he finally appears to be a typical 16-year-old kid. It does much to assuage my spirit as I know that my ultimatum has no chance of failure.

As I mentally praise myself, Augustus subtly, but not subtly enough, creeps towards me. The grass cloaks the sound of his feet, but I just shake my head. Does he think I’m blind?

“Take another step forward and I’ll start screaming,” I calmly tell Augustus. Watching the crown prince flounder reminds me of a car that has hit empty, the hunk of metal persisting in its journey on nothing but fumes until it truly can’t move an inch further.

“I know you are quick, you’ve been training with Father since you could walk. But will you be faster than this blade?” I grin cheerfully. “And in the off chance you are too slow, because I can see you considering the possibility already, do you really think you can get away with it?”

I pause to let out a loud belly laugh, taking care to keep the knife on my artery. To think that a few days ago, I’d been in paralyzing fear when Clever Jack had shoved his razor near my throat and now I’m doing it of my own volition.

“You’re so foolish, Augustus,” I sigh pitifully. “You didn’t even bother to ask why an imperial princess would show up at a dangerous military front with nary an escort or even a maid!”

Emma’s solemn face sweeps through my mind and I can no longer hold the terrible smile that’s straining my cheeks. Anger clouds my senses, to the point I don’t even bother to try to sound like a typical 8 year old. I’ve played that game long enough, and where has it gotten me? Has appealing to anyone’s kind heart saved me any heartache?

.....

“But never mind that. All you need to know is,” the knife thunks from my hand onto the table and Augustus swings his left hand in an almost blurry arc to grab it. But it’s a typical childish taunt on my part as I twirl the blade into my hands before he reaches it and hover it over a wrist. The petty tricks Emma taught me with a dagger are coming in handy it seems.

“My life is in your hands now. You’re the knife. Everyone saw me enter this tent. People will talk, speculation will be abound. Should anything untoward happen to me during my time here, you can be certain the crime will be pinned on your head. And I’m sure I won’t need to remind you just who would benefit from making you carry the blame.”

Perhaps because he wasn’t subject to the receiving end of Empress Katya’s ‘affection’, in the web it took Augustus a while to learn of Empress Katya’s true colors. My arrival today could be said to be a boon for him, as he gets to learn a few years in advance what kind of woman his stepmother really is.

He doesn’t speak, but I can see the cogs turning in his head as he considers a thousand possibilities. I hop down from the chair as he finally says one thing and one thing only.

“You wouldn’t do it though.”

“Hmmm?” I look up, curious to hear what my older brother has to say.

“Kill yourself. Just for a tent and the acknowledgment of your presence at the camp.” He’s prying, testing the waters. But Augustus won’t find any game in these murky depths.

I cock up one corner of my mouth, too lazy to properly grin at the overgrown brat. If only he knew how close I had been 2 years ago, but if I mentioned that, I know Augustus wouldn’t care. “But are you willing to bet your entire future on that?”

I vocalize the question he has been wrestling with since I initially placed the blade on my neck.

“If I cut deep enough into this wrist, a common military nurse most certainly wouldn’t be enough to save me. Even if you managed to get one of the few imperial physicians you brought along to check on me, he might not manage to preserve my life. Shall we find out who is faster, death or the imperial physician’s enchanted needle?”

Augustus is thinking too slowly, so I make the choice for him, pressing the blade down mercilessly onto my wrist from his perspective but harmlessly scraping my flesh in actuality.

“Stop!” he roars frantically, his prior poise a distant dream. All 6+ feet of him diving for me with a loud clunk of metal. Large fingers curl around the wrist I’ve just ‘cut’, applying pressure to an invisible wound until he realizes there is no blood coming out. I wink at him after his slow realization, the blade now firmly resettled on my neck and definitely not poised to miss this time around.

I’ve won. He knows it, I know it. It’s fascinating how I can old someone at knifepoint simply by pointing it at my own neck.

“Anyone!” he calls out sharply, annoyance poignant in his tone.

Two guards standing out the mouth of the tent step in and kneel in unison with a fist over their chest. “Sire!”

Augustus huffs a sigh, his perplexed golden eyes meeting mine. If it were back in my world, Augustus and his dreamy looks which carry a softness my father lacks could easily land him a modeling contract with any agent who had eyes.

“Announce the presence of Princess Winter and arrange private lodging for her to be guarded at all times.”

I relish the look of shock not only on their faces but on all the foot soldiers’ faces practicing outside when the announcement is made around camp. I stand between the two guards of my brother’s tent, bruised and battered yet still victorious. One guard steps forward and thuds the bottom of his spear onto the ground loudly, his movement alerting all those milling around the field.

“Crown Prince Augustus welcomes the presence of Princess Winter to the Sarsaval-Belhelm military front. Previous mishandling of her royal person before her presence was revealed shall be pardoned. However, any undue contact with Her Highness from this point forward will be treated as a crime of the first order, resulting in a demotion or permanent termination from the army. Adjourn!”

The two foot soldiers who ‘escorted’ me to the tent as well as those who had glared menacingly suddenly look like they’re about to piss their pants, everyone turning away to nervously cough or stare at the ground when I smile in their direction. Under the escort of the two guards, the field of sparring soldiers part like the Red Sea. If I said watching everyone move like the floor is lava wasn’t immensely satisfying, I’d be a liar.

The air is fresh, the sky is blue, and I can hear bird’s songs over the resumed clang of practice fighting behind me. For my entire duration at the military camp, I’ve just secured myself grade A security and the chance to finally kick back and relax as best as one can at an active warzone. With the cleverness of Katya, I’m certain she would find a way to blame Augustus if she manages to kill me, so Augustus should at least understand the delicacy of my current position. Frankly, I might even write a terrified secret letter to hide inside the tent so that if I do die due to Augustus’ carelessness, he’ll know I meant every word in the tent.

I sit under the shade of a nearby tree as several of the lesser soldiers who serve as hands on deck as opposed to the ones waging actual battle pitch the tent. A grand pole with a phoenix affixed to the top is propped up, before pristine red fabric that weighs down several men is thrown overtop with loud grunts.

“Looks good! Looks great!” Praise rains from my lips easily as furniture is moved in and the ends of the tent are nailed down securely into the earth. A meek nurse’s assistant is assigned as a temporary maid for my stay, since the military front is composed mostly of men save for the female nurses and the military slaves in charge of serving food, cleaning blood off armor, and all the unsavory tasks that come with war. As for the duties they also have at night after supper, my lips press into a thin line at the thought.

After all, Winter would not come to exist without such a tryst between my father and mother.

Due to pressing matters such as trying not to die, Winter’s past, or should I say my own past, hasn’t been of utmost concern to me in the past few years. I know the barebones of it from Bianca’s drunk ramblings and the meager information supplied in the web. My mother was a military slave during the time my father was conquering the desert kingdoms of old that once existed in the east, now absorbed into the Erudian Empire.

They did the tango, she fell pregnant and made the wise decision that the man who may or may not have murdered his entire extended family in cold blood may not be the best father and moved to the capital with her sister for a new life. From there, as most women were and are prone to in this era, she passed away from inadequate postnatal care and left me behind to her blustering younger sister, who yells often to conceal how much she misses her only family.

There many logistics that don’t make sense. If my father has a killing aura, how come my mother didn’t pass away since she doesn’t have the immunity of his closest servants and stewards? And, a thought I even dread to think, was their engagement of her volition or by force? How did my mother and Bianca even wind up becoming slaves in the empire if their unique hair coloring suggests that their heritage comes from the mysterious Old Continent?

Dusk has fallen when I finally emerge from my thoughts, strands of my icy white locks floating beside me in the wood bathtub that was brought into my tent. The earlier excitement of the day has since faded away along with the warmth of the water, which grows colder by the moment.

I’ve been through a lot since I woke up here, more than your typical protagonist in any other transmigration story. I’ve bled, cried, drowned in hopelessness, and been trapped in prisons both manmade and of my own making. And yet I’m still here, alive and finally with a chance to reverse my odds.

I take a look at the cards I’m holding right now: I’m the actual promised child, which will bring instant admiration and hope from all Holy Church followers the moment that information comes out. I’ve invested in Lady Arabella’s store, which should experience a meteoric rise in popularity soon when her gowns become the talk of high society during the post-war celebration parties. I have the chance to sway the royal guard back in my favor now that Empress Katya is no longer here to stir tensions between us. And finally, I’m from the future.

On second thought, I scrap the last card because all my future knowledge has done very little to help me so far. Something rustles the grass nearby and I smile, a burden I’ve been carrying for the past day falling from my heart.

“Remind me to tell my brother to replace the guards around my tent tomorrow, Emma. It seems they do not take their job very seriously,” I sound stern, but the bright expression on my face says otherwise.