The flickering flames were dimmed behind the glass of the lamps, softening the cold, stone walls of my bedchamber. Heavy velvet drapes framed the bed. Frankincense burned. It was a sanctuary, undisturbed by the bustle of the palace beyond my door.                                       

We spoke in hushed whispers.

“Mistress, are you not concerned with the frequency of his visits?”

“I am not.”

“But the king–”

“Father is my concern, not yours, Prima. I’m the only thing he has left of Mother, and he adores me.” I met her eyes in the mirror of my dressing table. “Besides… should we be found out, I know how to appease his anger.”

“Apologies, Mistress, I care about you, that’s all.”

“I know. And you know I cannot resist beautiful things.”

I knew she knew, and she shared my eye for beautiful things. All commoners did. When we were younger, I’d allowed her to try on my gowns, and I’d even fix her hair. She glowed, adoring herself in the mirror. 

I continued, “He is so charming, isn’t he? A blacksmith, yes, but that only increases the strength of his hands, no doubt stronger than Father’s guards.” I closed my eyes for a moment, indulging in remembering his lips on mine and his hands gripping my hips. I opened my eyes to find her quietly watching me with an indiscernible expression. “Do you not see his beauty, Prima?”

“I do, Mistress. His hair is like spun gold, and he’s indeed handsomer than any man on the court.”

I took a step toward her and tenderly grasped her hair, letting it slide between my fingers. How easily the waves, cascading around her slender shoulders, caught the lamplight. “Yes, his hair first attracted me. Amidst all the raven-haired men, he’s unique. Same as you, Prima, with your rosy copper tendrils.” 

I might have loathed Prima for her extraordinary appearance had it not been for her common status. Despite her rare hair color paired with a face that was anything but commonplace, she could take nothing from me. And so, I fretted not when Justus was alone with her as she secreted him to and from my bedchamber. 

I grasped her hands within mine and lowered my voice. “And now with haste, Prima, as my most trusted attendant, gather Justus and bring him to me once more. With the usual discretion, of course.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” She bowed her head and scurried out the door. 

~ooOoo~

Prima rushed through the door with Justus, then promptly excused herself to wait outside, serving as a lookout for anyone approaching. 

Justus crossed the room, stopping short of me, and faintly smelling of smoke. He never rushed or assumed anything.

“You summoned me.”

“I did,” I replied, stepping into him. “And you came.”

“Always.”

His hand found mine, and I felt the roughness from every sword he’d forged in fire. Warmer, stronger than when I shook the hands of the fancy men in Father’s court. He spoke my name in a tone that meant I was so much more than just the princess to him, then he kissed me. 

My innocence fell away with my gown in my bedchamber, and he showed me what it meant to be a woman. 

Much later, as we lay entwined beneath the sheets, I lifted my chin and whispered, “I feel safe with you.”

“You are safe.” He kissed me, moaning when he finally pulled away. “The hour is late, my love, I should take my leave.”

I walked him to the door and motioned for Prima to come inside. 

“Quickly, Prima, escort Justus out of the palace.”

I opened the door again to find Father standing there, surrounded by stiff guards. Light from the corridor spilled into the room, immediately exposing us all. 

Prima immediately stepped back behind me, and Justus bowed, saying, “My king.”

“Father…”

The king responded to Justus first with a firm, “Do not speak again,” before turning his attention to me. “What do we have here, daughter? An unwelcome intruder, it seems.” He motioned to his guards. “Seize him!” 

I reached for Justus, but the guards yanked him from my grasp, dragging him away. He looked back at me, and I saw the terror in his eyes. 

“Let me explain. He was just…”

“Just what?”

“A companion for me, Father. Invited by me.”

“You invited a man—moreover, a commoner—into your bedchamber at this hour? I think you overstep your position, daughter! I choose your male companions, and I’ve not seen fit for you to have any yet!”

“But, Father…”

Rage reddened his cheeks, but his tone quieted, scaring me as to what was coming. 

“He will face the arena in four days' time.”

“Father, no!” I threw myself at him, but he pushed me back by my shoulders, turned, and walked out the door. 

Not the arena. 

~ooOoo~

According to Father, the arena was poetic justice, with the guilt or innocence and associated consequences decided by the accused himself. Behind one door would be death—a hungry tiger. Behind the other would be life—a fair maiden of equal class to whom he would immediately marry. The accused would choose, not knowing who was behind each door. 

I always thought the doors represented the duality of Father—one side congenial and seemingly generous, the other side barbaric. My instincts told me he placed the fate of the accused in their hands so that his soul would not be held responsible.

I knew if I were to change Father’s mind, it would be with calm coaxing. I had learned that from my mother. He responded harshly to tantrums and begging, thinking those were reactions for the weak who deserved no grace from him. 

The days blurred together, confined in my bedchamber with only Prima allowed to see me. She brought me my meals and held me while I cried. She brushed my hair and tucked me into bed, trying to reassure me that things weren’t as bad as I thought. 

But how could I watch him die if he chose wrong? He had to live!

I was certain whoever the maiden was behind the other door was no threat to his love for me. How could she be? Father would choose a commoner to match his status. I envisioned a homely, forgettable sort. Her presence would fade the moment he closed his eyes, and then he’d still see me. 

For two days, Prima and I plotted together on how she could discover which door housed the tiger. We decided that if she could get to the one who cared for the beast, surely he could be bribed. 

On the evening before Justus was to be sent to the arena, I’d sent Prima to bribe the tiger keeper. She’d been gone longer than expected, so when the door opened, I had expected it to be her. 

It was Father, instead. Alone. More imposing than ever in the way his massive frame filled the doorway. I faced him but said nothing. 

“I know you think me cruel, but as king, I cannot allow the royal bloodline to be defiled by a commoner. Someday you will understand when such burdens fall to you, daughter.” 

“I apologize for my previous actions, Father. It was a mistake I won’t repeat.” 

He cocked an eyebrow. Did he not believe my words?

“I am king, but also your Father. As such, I will afford you some information regarding Justus.” 

I patiently waited, hoping he couldn't hear my heartbeat thundering behind my breast. 

“The tiger will be behind the door on the right,” he plainly stated as if merely giving me the hour of the day. 

I was grateful to him for this information, but also recognized this wasn’t Father giving up anything, for he cared not which door Justus chose, because either door, and Justus would be lost to me. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

I bowed to him, and he offered me a rare smile.

A belated thought occurred when he reached the door, and I called out to him, “Father, who would he marry? If he were to choose the other door.”

Father turned and held my eyes. “Prima,” he said at last. “The fairest maiden of equal standing.” 

I couldn’t swallow my gasp, and the door shut as I fell upon my knees. But no more tears would come. They were replaced with something darker. 

Then, a dreadful thought entered my mind. I’d assumed if he couldn't have me, he’d welcome death, and I’d be saving him by discovering the door to the maiden. I’d assumed the maiden would be no one he’d love. He wouldn’t forget me. But, Prima? I’d witnessed his eyes lock with hers for a moment each time he thanked her for sneaking him into my bedchamber. And how did his eyes find her? Beautiful? 

An even more dreadful thought: someone had told my father about Justus. Was it Prima? 

That last night before his trial, my sleep was fitful. Prima had never returned, no doubt being prepared for her wedding day, should Justus choose the door on the left. 

I’d watch her tummy swell with his child. Their children would have hair a color that would always draw my eye, even amongst a crowd of black-headed commoners. Worst of all, I’d see him in every smile and know I’d chosen it. 

My suffering would never end. 

Then I saw it. The tiger lunged, hideous claws extended…

I shook my head to erase the vulgar images. 

Be strong, my darling. Be brave.

“Mother?” I bolted upright in bed, but she wasn’t there.

In the darkness, I held my breath and soon heard her soothing voice again. 

Show no weakness, especially to your father. Choose what you can survive. For survive, you must—if you are to be queen. 

“Thank you, Mother. I miss you.”

I lay back down, knowing in my soul what I must do. Sleep came more easily. 

~ooOoo~

The stone seats rose high around me, filled with bodies restless and murmuring with anticipation of whether they’d see a death or a wedding. Did they even care which? 

For me, the air was heavy and warm. Dressed in a fine dark red gown with matching ruby jewels, I sat next to Father, waiting for Justus to enter. I noticed the dirt in the arena had taken on a reddish tint. 

The great doors opened, and my love Justus walked slowly and steadily to the center of the arena. He turned and bowed to his king, but I knew his eyes flashed toward me. He knew my connections and that I’d have discovered who was behind each door. He looked for a sign. I drummed the fingers of my right hand for a moment, no longer, on the arm of the throne. A tiny movement—only for him. 

When I looked at the door on the right, I didn’t see cruelty. I saw closure. Death was final. A wound closed. When I looked at the door on the left, I saw years of watching him give her smiles that should have been mine. I saw my never-ending longing. A wound that would be reopened over and over. 

He offered the slightest nod to me, turned, and walked, with his shoulders back and chin up, toward the door on the right. He strided so easily; had I seen his face, I think he might have been smiling. Perhaps his eyes even sparkled at what he thought awaited him. Perhaps other parts were tingling as well, thinking of his wedding night with the lovely Prima. My belly lurched at the thought, and I was thankful he wasted no time pulling the heavy ringed handle of the wooden door. 

Although expected, the roar of the tiger made me jump and sent Justus stumbling backward. He turned to run, but only managed one step before the hungry striped beast was upon him. His eyes found me as the first strip of flesh was ripped from his bones. 

Please understand, my love. 

The arena erupted in gasps and wails from the onlookers. He fought the tiger, prolonging his suffering to immeasurable levels. Had he lain still, the tiger would have latched onto his neck, draining him of life quickly, but he struggled. Clawed at the ground. Reached out for help—from me. 

Some mourned the fate of one so handsome and young. Others looked on at a horror so great that it locked their attention. As for me, I looked straight through the carnage with my chin up and eyes wide open, while a pleasing thought settled over me—Prima was hearing his screams. She would never feel his touch or hear him whisper her name in the night. Those things would remain mine alone. 

When the last breath finally left his body, Father’s guards used their long spears to prod the tiger back behind the door. The royal attendant struck the enormous woeful brass bell with a mallet, signifying the accused had been found guilty. Justus’s tattered body was then dragged away from the bloody pool. 

I took a steadying—no, more like a cleansing—breath and stood, smoothed the front of my gown, and straightened my posture before taking my leave. Faces turned toward me, offering a slight bow. I felt the weight of their eyes upon me, the same as the crown atop my head. As I passed my father, he stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm.

“You surprised me, daughter.” His eyes rolled upward to meet mine with his brows pinched together, almost in concern. “I saw your mother in you today.”

I pulled away from his grasp and walked away, considering his words. I knew what he thought he saw. Her jealousy. But he was wrong. Like Mother, I just knew which losses I could bear and refused those I couldn’t. That made me fit to rule.  

No doubt, Father knew my choice had consequences not only for Justus but for myself. I did feel my choice deep within my heart. Not hurting so much as heavier. Hardened, I imagined. But could I live with it? The answer was yes—and it always would be.