The Dragon Prince's Bride
Chapter 38. I have been disgraced.

Chapter 38: 38. I have been disgraced.

Barak smiled inwardly as he thought to himself that the queen was more calm than the king. More composed, she seemed to be his check-mate. The one to keep his anger in check.

He could not help but wonder if Ria would one day have that sort of power over him. The power to be his check-mate. To control his anger.

He took his seat as the queen had instructed.

"I must tell you, Prince Barak, the rumors are not always true." She smiled gently. "Right, My Lord?" She turned to her husband and he seemed to have calmed down after staring into her eyes.

Eyes that were green and almost as beautiful as Ria’s, Barak thought.

"Ah, aye, I am certain you must have heard rumors of the unrivaled beauty of my daughter, princess Neriah, and also how she has a bit of a fiery temper." The king chuckled with his wife.

"And I tell you, the rumors of her beauty do no justice. She is as delicate as a flower, with hair as red as roses. Even redder than her mother’s." Gerald squeezed the hand of the queen gently in his own as he spoke. And only now did Barak notice the color of the queen’s hair. It was visibly red, but he just did not notice since.

"Yet she is as strong-willed as a tigress. With eyes as green as the Malachite, as though the goddess Aveliana herself had painted them with care for a thousand years."

That description felt awfully familiar and Barak’s eyes squinted and his brows narrowed as he wondered what the weird thought in his head was.

"She is my pride and joy. You must understand, I am not just saying these words because she is my daughter, but because she really deserves the praises. She is my last daughter and she is the only one yet to be married. She has been with me for so long, I have loved and adored her. And I might have spoiled her a little, but, I assure you, she is not as badly tempered as the rumors depicts her to be." Gerald explained.

Barak wished to say something in response, but for some reason some thoughts were going in and out of his head. The King’s words kept on replaying in his head. Hair as red as roses, eyes as green as malachite and the will of a tigress.

Those were the descriptions of the King’s precious princess. And yet, for some very unsettling reason, those descriptions dangerously matched the image of the Spitfire that haunted him... Ria, who was the princess’s maid. Was it mere coincidence? Or was there something more to it?

"Your Majesty, as far as the rumors go, I shall not deceive you by saying I was not concerned by them. But I assure you, they are not the reason why I—" His words were abruptly halted as the huge oak doors of the hall were pushed open once again and what followed the sound of the opening doors was a high-pitched cry coming from a young woman with red hair.

He knew the young woman. He definitely knew her. But...

"Father!! Oh dear father!" She was calling the king, father!

"Forgive me! Father, I have disgraced thee, father! Forgive me. Help me, father! Your daughter, your precious jewel has been destroyed. She has been shattered." Her tears were overflowing, her attire was a mess, she fell to the ground at her father’s feet crying like a woman whose child had been stolen.

Barak’s eyes dilated with confusion as he impulsively rose to his feet, a million things running through his mind. Now he had no idea who this woman calling the king, father, was. But she looked like Ria, the woman he had spent the night with, the woman he was about to break his engagement for. And seeing her in such state of disarray, a state of tears was causing some kind of painful feeling in his chest.

He had no idea what was going on at the moment, but he felt this undying urge to shield her from whatever predicament that afflicted her. He wanted to hold her and ask her what the cause of her pain was, and if it was a person who had caused her so much suffering, he would rip the person in shreds with his own hands.

"I have been destroyed, father! Oh father, I wish to die! I can no longer keep it to myself. I wish to die right now, father please help me. Save me!" She rolled on the marbled floors at her father’s feet and Queen Erra went down to the ground, trying to hold her daughter in place. As a mother, she felt pain for her child even though she was yet to know what exactly the problem was.

"Mother, oh dear mother! You are like the goddess on earth." She continued as Erra held on to her and hugged her. "I worship you as I worship the goddess. When injustice has been done to the goddess’s child won’t the goddess fight for her child! Mother help me!" Neriah hugged her mother fiercely.

"I cannot bear this on my own. This shame. This pain. I can no longer take it. I would rather die. I wish to kill myself this instant!"

"Calm down my child. Calm down and tell me what plagues you." Erra carefully inquired.

"Aye, Neriah, what afflicts thee to the point of tears? To the point where you wretchedly tear your garment." Gerald looked as distraught as Erra.

"I have been marked father! Mother! I have been marked! Look at this! Look at it." She fiercely pulled down the upper part of her dress to reveal her shoulders alone.

Barak’s eyes dilated as he saw the tattoo on her skin. A part of him was already telling him that it was her, another part was trying to convince him that she could not have lied to him about being a maid.

But the tattoo on her neck only proved it all. She was the one he had lain with.

The markings that ran from the center of her shoulders to the neck was one that only appeared on the body of a woman after being marked by a dragon blood.

Each marking was different in it’s own way, and the marking on her shoulder was the one of the royal family of the Trago nation. There was no mistaking it. Inside the markings, he could see his name written in ancient dragon characters.

He had no idea that he had marked her that night. He had not intended to. But he had done so.

And now those marks stood as evidence. Evidence that she was the one he had spent that night with, evidence that he had marked her as his woman.

But nothing was making sense. Nothing was making sense at all.

"Look at the mark of a Lady who has lost her chastity to a barbarian!" She cried and her father stared at her with horror and pain in his eyes. His stretched his hands to touch her shoulders, but he held them back.

"I have been dishonored! I am flawed. I have been made a rag. I have been made filthy! Father, please forgive me! I have been forcefully taken by one of these very barbarian you wish to marry me off to." Her words echoed throughout the hall, bouncing off the walls and settling in the ears of everyone present.

Settling in the ears of Barak and his father.

Forcefully taken! The words felt like a dagger to his chest. Forcefully taken!

What was she trying to imply? He understood her words, he just could not begin to understand the reason behind those words.

Barak knew, even though the entire Elven kingdom could not recognize the mark, he knew his father would. He wondered what sorts of thoughts could have been roaming around his father’s head.

"I had warned you, father! I had warned you that they were animals! Beasts that will tear at my delicate flesh if they had the chance! Now see what has happened father! You let them into our kingdom and they have forcefully taken your daughter! He held me down with force and had his way with me! Father, my virtue has been taken away! I am no longer pure! I have been made filthy by one of these people!"

She yelled and pointed, and she turned her head. And only then, only then did she notice the man who stood there, dressed in an orange robe, with a furry cloak over his shoulders. Burnt Orange was the symbolic color of the Trago royalty. Why was that man wearing that color?

And what was he doing there in the first place? She tilted her head a little and saw the man sitting next to the one standing and wondered if the one sitting was the Prince Barak she was supposed to marry.

Perhaps, this man escorted the prince here. She thought in her head, even the prince Barak wasn’t as old as she had expected, by the goddess he looked younger and stronger than her father.