"What is this?" The Duke demanded in a loud voice.
The snake princess, like a switch, turned and ran to him in small steps, careful not to ruin her grand royal dress, stepping over the shards of glass on the floor. "Your Grace!" She sang in a high-pitched cry, curtseying before him to reveal her fair bosom threatening to spill from the tight corset.
"Your Majesty." Mr. Lancelot said instead in his monotone voice, offering a very low bow. Probably apologizing that no one was waiting outside to greet him and he walked in on such a catastrophe in his castle. Like a sacred song, every single living being fell on their faces immediately, like he was a god.
Down here in the north, he probably was.
Every living soul of the palace ought to have been waiting at the gate to welcome him in a grand style as he arrived on horseback with his troops. Lancelot should have been in the forefront and Madam Phineas beside him. Yet they were stuck here in the hallway, dealing with the wrath of Princess Ivie on Emilia.
Emilia, although maybe delusional from the slap, could have sworn she saw the Duke ignore Princess Ivie, acknowledging his butler only. Princess Ivie, however, seemed oblivious to this fact and began rambling.
"Your Grace, I think you should consider probing your staff. A simple task of preparing the duchess's quarters was too much for them." Princess blubbered, leeching onto his arm.
In a twist of events, the Duke with a repulsed look pried her pointy fingers away from his arm. He bent down to pick up the now ruined portrait slowly. Madam Phineas without word nudged Judith to start picking up the glass like clock work.
"Are you implying that I have poor judgement?" He asked in his deep, sultry voice.
Too stunned to speak, Princess Ivie stuttered. "I-I, this filthy one insulted me! Telling me I was not fit to stay in the duchess's quarters, so naturally I put her in her place." She accused, and all heads turned to look at Emilia, including the duke. More tears fell from Emilia's cheeks as she prepared to meet with her doom.
"If you call my staff filthy, then I am filthy." The duke said, staring Emilia up and down, causing a gasp from onlookers.
Princess Ivie and Emilia herself certainly thought the duke would be on her side and order that Emilia be castrated. But for once in Emilia's life, things were in her favor.
"Are you taking a servant's side over mine, your grace?" Princess Ivie screeched.
"If you mean questioning why you decided to punish the people who kept this whole mansion in place for the last three months that I have been away over a clearly spoiled and entitled princess?" He took a dramatic pause. "Then yes."
"Your Grace!" Princess Ivie cried, stomping her feet.
"This betrothal is canceled." He threw out casually, rolling up his sleeves. "Lancelot, see her out." He commanded and began to walk away.
"This is outrageous!. You cannot call off this engagement!" Princess Ivie began to throw a fit. The Duke stopped in his tracks and looked around, causing a smirk from her. Thinking that she had him in a bind.
"We are betrothed by decree of the king." Her voice turned dark. "What did you think?" she mocked, stalking to the duke like a cat. "That you can get rid of me easily, Your Grace?"
"You have to obey the king, my beloved husband-to-be." She giggled.
The duke turned slowly to face everyone, his hands clasped behind him in a fist. "Did you just threaten me?" He asked slowly.
"Let me bring to your attention, princess, that you are the fourth person he has betrothed me to in this year alone, yet I am still unmarried." He closed the distance between them, standing tall with a hard stern.
"No one orders me, not even the king." He growls. "Now, you will leave my house and never return. I have had a long trip without a proper welcome, and I'd rather deal with this nonsense."
"No!!. I am Princess Ivie of the Southern Isles! You have to marry me!. It's a royal decree." She screamed and smashed a cart of food into the wall.
"Actually, the royal decree states that the duke be married to a dystorian but never mentions to whom." Lancelot stated clearly.
The duke nodded in agreement, turning around. "You." He called out. Emilia's as well as every servant present's heads were still face-flat on the ground. They dared not rise when the duke was yet to address them. She raised her head from a small nudge by Lancelot to see the Duke's eyes on her.
He tilted his head to the side for a brief second and twirled the giant green emerald ring on his thumb.
'No no no no no,' Emilia chanted in her head. She wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her.
"Lancelot." He called to his butler. "She is Dystorian, right?"
'God, please, save me this once and I promise never to do or say anything bad for the rest of my life.' She pleaded in her mind, trying so hard to stop herself from shaking under his gaze.
"This one, prepare her, I'll marry her." He pointed at her without looking.
The butler fell on his face and cried. "Sire, she's only a maid, a slave."
Emilia's heart stopped for a long minute, her mind hazy and numb, not sure whether to be happy that she was not being killed or sad that she was to marry the Duke. Marrying the devil would be like a death sentence itself. So either way, she was good as dead.
"Her family?" The duke asked.
"They are nothing but peasants; her father used to be a count on the hillside of the Dystorian mountains but gambled all his money and sold her for ten shekels." Lancelot recited. "Please reconsider, Your Highness."
The Princess screamed like she had been scorched with fire. "Damn you!. For this insult! You will rot in hell!."
He smirked. "Haven't you heard? I am the devil, and by default, hell is my throne." With a wave of his hand, two guards appeared to escort her screaming self out of the palace. The duke turned to leave again, Lancelot hot on his heels, and a long trail of maids followed.
And like the doors of hell were left open, heat wrapped around her as the duke brushed past her. Emilia collapsed under his aura, her heart thundering in her chest as tears fell from her eyes.
"Send word to the king: her father's debt are paid off all the debtors as a bride price." The duke ordered as he left.
"Yes, my lord." The butler replied.
Her life was finished.