The Shadow, the Orc, and the Princess: Part One (special preview)

My father was always a very odd man. Even as a young prince he showed his strange beliefs and qualities without hindrance. No one ever thought he would take the throne, so he was sent away. They thought he was swept under the rug.

He would tell me stories of these days, how he traveled, met with people he would never come into contact with otherwise. As a young man he let himself indulge, and when he was ready, he prepared himself for what might lie ahead. He told me that I would have to be ready as well, because the throne is a hard fought battle won.

I was introduced to my father’s way of thinking and looking at the world from the moment I could understand. He taught me the importance of survival, of relying upon myself, as well as his mystical views on everything in between. I held daggers in my hands instead of dolls. I learned how to tie knots insteads of ribbons. My father thought dresses were a hindrance and had all my clothes made to match his own garb. I only wore dresses to special events because of my mother’s insistence I have some bit of normalcy. But even then my father made sure my skirts were outfitted to be removed at a moment's notice.

Because no one wanted to teach the princess how to sword fight, grapple, and various other bloody sports, my father taught me himself.

“It should be this way anyways, little Leo. Because if I cannot even teach my own child, how am I expected to lead this kingdom?” He was always smiling when he talked to me. He always seemed so proud when we were working together.

“They thought I was the crazy one,” he told me one night. “Because I didn’t think along with the rest of them.” He always tucked me into bed, checking under my pillow to make sure my favorite dagger was in place. “But my brother was far worse. He thought like them, but he was more cold blooded and ruthless than a viper. But vipers have reason for being who they are.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

My father’s smile grew. “He tried to kill something very precious. So I had a decision to make, either I let my brother suffocate what good was left in this kingdom, or I did what was right and kill him myself.”

My eyes widened. “You’ve killed someone before, dad?”

He threw his head back laughing. “Those are stories for another time.” He pet the top of my head. “Just know, my darling, that your father would kill anyone for you.”

I smiled, comforted by his words. I was never afraid of the dark or anything that lurked in it, because I knew I had my father who would take care of me. No matter what.

Despite this, I was still trained hard to prepare for the day I would have to take him down from his throne.

“Madness lies in your blood, little Leo,” my father would always tell me. “My grandfather had it, my mother had it, and my brother was exceptionally blessed with it. I for sure have it as well, but there may be a day you need to do what is best for this kingdom and take me down. Just like I had to. When that happens I will put up a fight. That is why you must be trained. Plus, all this physical exertion is good for the brain. We might be able to stave off whatever madness we have, right?”

I smiled up at him. “Yes, dad!”

“Atta girl, now let’s get to it.” He would toss me a sword at random. Sometimes they were too big for me and hard to swing. Other times they were old and would break mid-battle. He did this to teach me to always think on my feet, and to be creative should I be dealt a strange hand.

As I grew up, my mother expected things of me as well. She wanted me to be presented and courted, to be a princess and not my father’s warrior. She was disappointed in how muscular my arms and back became, as it meant I didn’t fit properly into the pretty dresses she wanted me to wear. She once attempted stopping me from training by telling my father I was sick. But the bed rest didn’t diminish my muscle like she hoped. Instead I just started to get pudgy like my mother.

I loved both my parents dearly and knew they were both doing what they thought was best for me. My father wanted me to survive, and my mother wanted to see me taken care of. I understood both their views, but I liked my father’s more.

“I have learned to tolerate the training, the fighting, and her being scuffed and bruised from head to toe. But I would like her to know more about the other side of things, dearest.” My mother would fuss over this at least once a month.

“What could dancing and promenade teach her?” My father tutted back.

“We met while dancing, Falko,” she said with a smirk.

“Yes, and I fell for that trap!” He laughed proudly. “But Leopoldine is far too young for that. And besides, she will meet her future partner on the battlefield! Teach her to dance later, not that it matters.”

My mother was always so calm and accepting of my father’s behaviour. But sometimes she got a look that even made him quiver in his boots. Her eyes would narrow, her long lashes seeming to extend like dark wings. Her brows then arched high and her mouth formed into a prim pout. She would then coil her hand around my father’s arm and color would vanish from his face.