Meet A’ris Brynx…
“A’rissanda Brynx, you will not turn your back on me. No soul is allowed such an audacity in my presence – not even a noble member of the Roanarq’teve clan.”
Her flame-red hair billowed out around her shoulders as she spun on her heel to face the King. “Nothing about the Roanarq’teve clan is noble, Father.”
She could feel the spittle spray from her lips, but she daren’t wipe her mouth. Instead she allowed the smallest twitch of a satisfied smile to show itself as the man before her stood silent from shock. He was one foot taller than she, displaying a gut at least five times as wide as her own, with enough gold and jewels hung about his stocky body to be laughable. His bird-like eyes were too dark to show emotion, his mouth always set in a constant state of disapproval. The man was a selfish and austere King and an even harsher parent. She hated him with every fibrous nerve in her body.
He sucked in a quick breath before righting his face. “You will not speak to me that way,” he hissed.
“Or what? You’ll toss me onto a Worker ship or take away my bathing privileges for a month? Unlike you, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty for the cause.”
The room fell silent. Those unlucky enough to be in court looked down at their feet, embarrassed to bear witness to the verbal sparring. The King’s advisors backed away, as if weapons would be drawn and they were in the path of the imminent blood spray.
“You should hold your tongue. Or have you forgotten who you are speaking to?” With a step forward, one of his jeweled hands rose and pointed behind her. Two men in rounded helmets and chain-mail approached. “You will be escorted to your quarters and summoned when I no longer feel like striking that rancid mouth of yours.”
As her upper arms were firmly secured by the guards and her body was turned toward the doors, she laughed over her shoulder, “The only thing rancid here is the King.”
© Trish Marie Dawson