Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 159: [Bonus chapter]Ch. 158: Order in the Court!

THE COURT OF GOOD OR EVIL IS NOW IN SESSION

“Order in the court!” the judge bangs his gavel before turning to the witness stand a fixing a withering glare on me. The courtroom is quiet enough to hear a pin drop before he dramatically clears his throat and begins his speech.

“Today, we, in the Court of Good or Evil, are gathered to judge whether Imperial Princess Winter Royberg de la Erudian-” he begins in a monotonous tone.

“Or Maria Lopez for those who aren’t caught up on the latest chapters-” I chime in helpfully despite his glare.

“It’s been 157 chapters. If they aren’t caught on that your name is Winter, then that means they never got past the first chapter,” he corrects angrily.

“Hmph. Fake fans,” I turn my nose to the gathered crowd in the courtroom, prompting disapproving whispers and flashes of a camera. I wink at them, before remembering that they can’t see my eyes behind the dramatic, oversized pair of sunglasses I have on for my trial today.

“Today, we are gathered to judge whether Winter is guilty of the crime of becoming a villainess! She has committed one of the gravest of sins a female lead can commit, the unprovoked murder of an integral character, Lord Bromely. The coldhearted actions left many a reader chilled in the heart!”

.....

“Him?” I snort. “I wasn’t actually trying to kill him, just frighten him a little by “accidentally” having Sage stab him somewhere nonvital while he and Finn were talking. But how was I supposed to know that the good duke would be arresting Lord Bromely suddenly? And how on earth should I have predicted that Sage would go above and beyond by screaming those words and then going right for the heart?”

The prosecutor shakes her head as if I’d just called her a bitch to her face. “Did you all see? There was no remorse from the princess, Your Honor, even though Sage knew exactly who Lord Bromely was and intentionally wanted to kill the man! None whatsoever! And if it was an accident, why didn’t the princess even try to heal him? Please condemn her as Evil and give her the maximum sentence possible!”

The crowd hums in agreement and the judge strokes his beard in thought.

“Wait. So you’re telling me that kiss ass of a spy had a bone to pick with Lord Bromely? So that’s why she killed him. What do you people take me for, a mindreader? Did you people forget she is a spy who is actively working against me?” I roll my eyes, but upon remembering that they cannot see my sarcastic actions, I kindly take off my sunglasses and do it again for the people to see.

“Defense! What do you have to say for your client?” the judge barks as I get heckled by the crowd. I classily stick my tongue out of them.

Emma crosses her arms, looking imposing in her suit. “She is Good!” she barks. “My client is not a villainess! Not yet anyway.”

“You wouldn’t bat an eye if a kid from the slums died, why are you so damn worried over one rich and partially insane asshole? Ignorant hypocrites.” I mutter.

“Order in the court! Watch your crude language, Princess Winter. You are a female lead and you ought to act like one!” the judge scolds while pounding his gavel.

I sigh loudly. “Have you people even been keeping up? I never want to be the female lead in the first place! I just want to live. And I’ll do whatever it takes to do just that. Besides, didn’t anyone ever tell you that life isn’t black or white? I myself prefer the shade, morally gray. Emma, let’s go!”

“Your Honor, she left without permission!” the prosecutor, who significantly resembles Janice, yells as I leap over the witness stand and strut out of the courtroom.

The judge lets out a heavy sigh, aging 10 years in a minute. “Just let her be. There is nothing we can do now.”

THE COURT OF GOOD OR EVIL IS ADJOURNED, BACK TO THE STORY AT HAND

I’m shocked. Finn is shocked. The guards are shocked. I’m sure even the peeling wallpaper is shocked. Only Lord Bromely is calm, a look of peace immediately overtaking his features.

“Oh dear,” I faintly mutter to myself, barely hearing my own voice as chaos descends upon the narrow hallway. Sage yanks the makeshift blade out of Lord Bromely’s chest, and none too soon before she gets tackled by two guards at the same time. Yet I don’t move, my body freezing like it is stuck in molasses rather than jumping forward and saving one more person’s life in the collection of hundreds that I have dragged from the mouth of hell.

He gasps for air, then chokes on it. The calm is disturbed on Lord Bromely’s face as the numbness of death contends with his body’s fervent desire to survive. I watch. Sage watches. The guards move and shout, completely at odds with us. The waged battle in Lord Bromely’s body begins to lean in one final direction.

No doubt drawn in by the noise, more royal guards shamble into the madness, quickly mobilizing to put pressure on Lord Bromely’s wound and hold down the raving and rabid Sage. I shake my head, feeling the first gusts of what will no doubt be a violent storm descending upon me.

Finn looks up from the melee, casting a disappointed and wary look in my direction as I’m nudged back not too gently from the scene. I can already hear the barrage of questions.

Why did you have your close servant try to kill him?

If you weren’t trying to kill him as you so claim, then why try to cause him harm?

Where do you know the late Lord Bromely from?

Yes, the late Lord Bromely. Because with a smile on his face, the old man gurgles out one last breath before staring off in my general direction. No one asked me to heal him, probably because in their eyes I just tried my best to assassinate him. So now I’m kind of, sort of, totally, completely, and utterly screwed.

“Fuck.” I take a seat further down the hall and await judgment. My dress crinkles up in a pool of tinsel silver. There are now 2 paths of action that lay before me.

1. The classic “deny, deny, deny”. Feign confusion, get Emma to expose Sage’s connections to the Duvernay faction, and let this situation sort itself out. However, it will inevitably draw great suspicion and doubt to me while ruining the tenuous trust I’ve built with Augustus. Augustus is my ace, the card I must hold onto at all costs. Losing him means losing my get-out-of-jail-free card that being friends with the future monarch represents.

Losing your brother would mean more to you than that, the angel on my shoulder coos in a soft voice. Images of the disgust on the crown prince’s face when he’d last questioned my character are pulled up, along with the way my heart had hurt at the sudden gulf that had briefly opened up between us.

You must be more soft and sensitive than I thought to think about your feelings right now, the devil scolded on my left, you have learned nothing all these years.

2. The classic “just tell the truth” with a spin on what exactly pertains as the truth. I can exaggerate a little that he threatened me at the Tower and that I had Emma attack today out of fear. However, this might still appear to be fishy, for a docile little girl to suddenly command her maid, who surprisingly possesses rare combat skills, to attack a man rather than just tell her family of the affront.

“It was years ago,” they could ask. “Why didn’t you mention this when it occurred? Why wait until he was being taken in for questioning by the emperor? Were you intentionally trying to disturb an imperial investigation? That is a crime punishable by death, even for members of the imperial family!”

I lean my head back on the wall and close my eyes, trying in vain to shut out the madness so I can think through my options. Digesting the last words of the madman shall be tonight’s insomnia assignment, to be fulfilled either in a prison cell or my bed, depending on where my chips land.

“You can still sleep after causing this madness?” My least favorite brother is crouched beside me, the light amusement hanging from his lips at odd with the barking orders and running around occurring around us.

“Julian,” I sigh, with none of the usual bite I tend to possess.

“He was useful. But you killed him,” the spare prince comments. With his blonde hair slowly starting to grow out, he is starting to resemble his mother more.

“What can I say? Shit happens,” I reply in a careless manner as if I dropped a plate on the floor rather than accidentally assassinated one of the biggest figures in Erudian politics in the past 100 years. I don’t want to let Julian know a thing.

“I want to know why,” he quietly demands anyway. “I know there was a reason. There is always a reason with you.”

“Just consider it a bad calculation.”

“No,” he immediately refuses. Julian leans in closer searching my eyes. “You didn’t really want to kill him, did you?”

“I’ve never been one for murder,” I say in lieu of a proper affirmative answer. “Unlike you.”

“Hey, neither am I, alright?” he protests without skipping a beat.

The prince who nearly committed patricide has the good decency to look ashamed as I bring up his hijacked antics at the coming-of-age ceremony that nearly cost our father his life. I can tell Julian is being honest for once, perhaps because I know that despite whatever nonsense he is up to these days, he hasn’t got it in him to start killing people. Yet.

“I guess in both our cases, some circumstances spun out of control,” I gesture to the crime scene before us and Sage’s resolute expression that is so at odds with her typical playfulness.

Julian responds cryptically. “So it seems. However, there is one difference. We both know that if you truly wanted to, you could have saved him and redeemed yourself in everyone’s eyes. But you didn’t.”

“No, I suppose I didn’t.” And that is the crux of the matter.

I did not. I did not want to.

My second oldest brother lets out a sigh. “Every time I think I’m beginning to understand you better, you throw in a curveball.”

“You will never know me, old man.” The jab slides off him like water off a duck’s back.

“You’d best get started on thinking how you’re going to explain this to Augustus and Father. Here they both come now, looking official and important.”

“Jealous?”

“You wish, Winnie. You wish,” he chuckles. “It’s a shame. I like this opera.”

“How does it end? The opera?” I ask casually.

He huffs out a breath of disbelief. “You still want to know?”

“Might as well. It could be the last one I ever see,” I remind him.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “If I recall correctly, Helio witnesses the pain of the two lovers and brings them both back to life.”

“Rebirth? How unrealistic,” I mutter at the tired trope.

“Is it?” my wayward brother counters as he rises from the ground. I know he is referring to our circumstances. His face morphs back into a look of shock and dismay, allowing for a royal guard member to lead him back to safety as if Sage will somehow acquire the strength of ten men, break free, and attack him.

Indeed, my father and his younger lookalike arrive on the scene. I mentally narrate the conversation they have with Duke Finn, noting when both their eyes flash over to where I sit. Augustus’ shock and distrust far eclipse Emperor Helio’s, who nods curtly and strolls onto the scene while Augustus keeps looking at me incredulously. I almost don’t blame him. Within this hour, we went from talking about my new tea party pals to me being accused of assassinating a traitorous but important ex-chancellor.

But I had foolishly hoped that Augustus wouldn’t be so quick to condemn me as everyone else has but infer that this wasn’t entirely my doing the way Julian had. I have a brother who I cannot trust but believes in me unequivocally. And I have a brother who I can trust but has very little faith in me.

I shrug, noting the disappointment that crosses his face at my nonchalant action. He looks at me like I’m a disgrace. And he’s not wrong. My whole existence and my entire life up until this point, has been a disgrace to many. They just pretend it isn’t when it benefits them.

Augustus and his disappointment are not the last of my family members to glimpse the carnage I accidentally caused, one that still bleeds like a stuck pig and stains the red carpet an even darker color. With practiced, elegant steps that belie her careful and noble upbringing, Empress Katya swishes into the narrow back halls in a way that would command attention in any other setting.

I watch her, but she doesn’t watch me. The steps that could be counted on a metronome break their predictable pattern. She rushes forth to where the dead Lord Bromely lays, only stopped by the wall of royal guards who cordon off the scene but can’t seem to slow the spread of blood snaking towards where I sit. The surprise on her face, it’s real.

I sit up, my full attention on her.

The empress’ lips press together in irritation, a hunger in her eyes that goes unfulfilled as she locks eyes with the body on the floor. They know each other. Well, it seems. Quite well.

It’s like no one notices the slip in her mask, before she tugs it back on a feigns a womanly weakness that has guards tripping over themselves to escort her back to the box seat.

Augustus is barking orders to a knight of the royal guard. My father and Finn are once again discussing something intensely in the corner out of everyone’s earshot. My half-sister, Julia, has probably been kept in the box seat and away from the bloody sight, a luxury that symbolizes the blissful bubble of ignorance Julia has been allowed to grow up in while I was cast out to the wolves.

Fine, then. Option 1 it is.

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