Smells can bring about the most wonderful memories and feelings in a person. A certain smell can make them think of the most wonderful things. My favorite scent is the smell of death. It’s sweet in its own way. I would often torture and kill small creatures privately and then hide their bodies in one of my secret rooms just so I could enjoy the stink at my leisure, a stink that changes from day to day.

The young women never liked the same things I liked, so when I met her, the most beautiful woman in all the kingdoms, I told her of things I knew young women loved. I regaled her with stories of other kingdoms and balls I could hold in her honor. Of the mountain of gold I could give her or the jewels I would gladly embellish her body with if only she said the word. Her company was all I desired yet as I grew older, the desire twisted into a need to possess all that she was and all that she ever would be. 

 I remember the summer I met my Mirabelle, my wondrous beauty. We were but children then. She sat in a bed of wildflowers weaving them into a crown. There was one on her head already. I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. Her midnight hair fell in waves down her back and glistened in the sun. Her skin, though not as pale as the other girls, held a radiant glow and when I approached her, she looked up at me with those round eyes the color of honey and smiled.

“Hello,” her voice was the sound of angels.

“Good afternoon, My Lady.” I bowed to her. “It is a beautiful day.”

“I’m no lady,” she laughed, a tinkling sound of bells.

“No?” I turned my head in an attempt to look inquisitive.

“And every day is a beautiful day when the sun is shining.” Her smile could brighten the darkest of nights.

“I am Prince Ronan Maddock, fourth of my name and next in line as ruler of this great nation.”

“A prince?” She sounded skeptical and showed no signs of conforming to the proper bow required of her station. “Why are you out by yourself and dressed in common clothes if you are the prince?”

“I ran away from home.” I sat next to her.

“Well, my prince, I think your mother would be most worried if you fail to return soon.”

“My mother is too strict,” I spat. “She wants me to study all the time and never lets me have any fun.”

“I don’t have a mother.” Her eyes lost their sparkle for a moment. “I would gladly study anything for as long as she would like if it meant that I could have a mother again.”

To see that face filled with even a moment of sadness broke me in a way I never thought possible.

“Forgive me. I did not know.”

“Would you like to help me?” She held up a string of flowers quickly returning to her happiness.

“What are you doing?”

“I like to make them every year after the spring and give them to people who look like they need them. It’s a way to celebrate the way my mother lived her life. She died giving birth to me but my aunt told me all about her.

I was speechless and in awe of her. To celebrate the anniversary of her birth and the death of her mother with such a sweet smile on her face and dedicated to the happiness of others was next to unheard of and all together foreign to me.

“Forgive me. I was being insensitive.”

She smiled again. “How could you have known? We know nothing of each other.”

Even though she was a few years younger than I, she held so much more maturity and love of life. I wanted to be with her always. From that moment on, I knew that my heart would always belong to her.

“Tell me your name.” In my desperation for the knowledge the question came out more as a command than a request.

She giggled. “And if I refuse will you kill me?”

“No…uh,” I stammered. She held my entire being her delicate little hands and I had no way of controlling my own responses. “I only wanted…that is to say….”

“Mirabelle.” She interrupted my babble.

“Mirabelle?” It was a union of slave and noble name. “It is beautiful.”

“It was my mother’s name, well…half of it.”

“Then it is all the more special.”

She placed a finished crown on flowers on my head. “A gift for you, my prince.”

“Please, I would prefer if you called me Ronan.”

“Such an act is not allowed from one like me.” The happiness seemed to drift away into the wind. “Because I am not like one or the other but am a combination of the two."

I saw it then when she pointed it out. I could only assume I never wanted to see it before. Her skin was neither dark nor pale and her hair neither curly nor straight. Her eyes were large round pools and lips as full as any slave. I knew I should not be seen with one of the unsavory beasts only to be used as we will them let alone to love one, but she held such a light in her eyes.

“I do not care about such things,” I told her. “Not when it comes to your happiness. If you wish to address me as your equal, you will not be punished for it. I will see to it. My will is law.”

As quickly as it left, her joy returned. “Since I am neither one nor the other, I will call you Kashim.”

“You wish to call me ‘little warrior?’ I have done nothing to save you.”

“You made me smile, Kashim, and then made it clear you would protect me. You are and forever shall be my warrior.”

“Then I will live the rest of my life in a way that will keep that smile on your face, Mirabelle.”

We laughed together. My royal guards had picked that moment to arrive over the hill and greet me. The sound of their clanking armor is not a noise easily ignored. I feared they would punish my young beauty for the crime of being born as was the custom, a law put into being by my father.

“Prince Ronan, come inside at once.” The largest of the five spoke to me as if I were beneath him.

“You do not order me around, Sir Killian. I am the prince of Endos and your future king! If you have any desire to keep that head of yours, you will do well to remember that.” It was the first time I had ever given an order and enjoyed doing so.

“Forgive me, my prince. It was not my intention to offend.” His demeanor changed instantly. “But your mother requests you return to the protection of the castle.”

“Does she? Well, she can wait another moment while I talk to my friend.”

“Your little playmate looks like a mixed child, my prince. You know the law.”

“The law is what I say it is and nothing more. From this day forth, no mixed child shall be punished for the crimes of their parents. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my prince.”

I was quite proud of myself for my bravery. My sweet Belle had brought out something fierce inside of me. I would do anything to protect her, to live up to her idea of me and to truly become her warrior. 

I can feel death coming on the wind. I have known death more times than a person should. The first time I felt it was the day I was born.

I killed her coming out of her, the person who loved me most in this world. As for my father, I was told that he took her against her will and so made me. Slaves to the kingdom of Endos have no rights. They say she escaped back to our homeland to keep me safe and if she was ever to be found, they would kill her on sight. I did that for them.

These were the stories my family told me, but I was certain my father loved her very much and that I was a happy addition made of their love. It was such a silly and romantic notion to believe in a love so deep it transcended color and social status, but I believed in love. Since marriage of my people and his people is forbidden, he found a way to send us out of the nation to a place where we would be safe. I could only assume that I resembled him since I looked little like my aunt, Asha.

Our lives were fine enough. I had a loving home to grow up in even though the other children would shun me for being mixed. My skin color was too light for them to want to get to know me. It was like I was the epitome of everything they ever hated all wrapped up in a convenient little blood sack.  

We stayed in my homeland until the raid in my sixth year of life. My suspicions of his love were confirmed when Father had come to claim me before the other soldiers could kill me, or worse. Asha and I were hidden in his private room on the ship. We were lucky he was a decorated officer. He announced to them that I was his pure daughter and Asha his house slave who had run away to keep me safe when the outlanders killed his wife. If they ever suspected I was a mixed child, they could have me executed as an abomination. Luckily for me, a majority of my features were not that of my other half, the island people, who were also called unsavory beasts. They were taken as slaves and branded to let them and everyone else know that they were less than human property.

I rarely saw my father, but he was kind to me. He tried to keep me hidden from the world though I could never be tamed. I was glad and very fortunate to meet my Kashim. I never should have alerted him to my heritage, but somehow I knew I could trust him, something in the way he looked at me. In his eyes I could see that he would kill for me. Indeed it did turn very fortunate not only for me, but for others of my kind.

I grew up in the palace under the protection of my Kashim. He grew strong with me by his side, but I feared that his love for me and desire to protect me was turning him into a tyrant. He had changed so much in our ten years together, and at the end of every spring he would throw a flower celebration in commemoration of my birth.

He would have thousands of crowns made out of wildflowers for all of the children to wear and all sorts of flowers would decorate the palace and the village. He would instruct his chefs to make sweets out of or in the shape of flowers and we would feast with the village. At the end of the day, he lit up the sky with an import from the east and would drop bundled flowers in the square so they would rain upon the people. Then he and I would have some quiet time sipping rose tea in the garden where he would present me with a gift.

“Did you enjoy yourself today, Sweet Belle?” Kashim asked.

“Oh yes! The farmer’s wife, Martha, grew such a lovely batch of daisies this year. I could tell she put her whole heart into them just to make me happy.”

“Then I shall send her a fine gift and a bag of gold for her family.”

“Just for growing me flowers?”

He reached over to touch my cheek. “Because she has put that smile on your beautiful face by growing so many of your favorite flowers.”

I smiled. “If you do that, then everyone will only grow daisies and I love the variety. I get to see the types of flowers the people love and even hybrid flowers that are created to honor me. They know of my heritage and yet they still love me.”

“Of course they love you. It would be impossible not to.” Kashim put down his cup and reached out for me pulling me into his lap. “And you will be with me always.” He kissed me gently.

I pulled my head away from him. “Kashim, what are you doing?”

“You are of proper age now. I fail to see the purpose of waiting any longer.”

“I am but it is against the law. Legally, we cannot marry one another.”

“Who said anything about marriage?”

I gave him a stern look. “Kashim, you dishonor me.”

He flinched. “My apologies, Sweet Belle. When I am king, I will make the laws.” He started kissing me again.

“And what of your parents now? They made that meeting with that princess from…oh, I cannot seem to recall. The beautiful one with the hair the color of spun gold and eyes that rival the sea?”

He scoffed. “And a face like a horse with the body of a stuffed pig. The stitching on that dress threatened to burst open if she breathed too deeply.” He laughed. “I feared she might suffocate me on our wedding night and they would never find my body, lost in the folds of her skin.”

“She was very lovely and not nearly as big as you claim.”

“Oh, you pout. No, she was not the girl for me. I do not care how much stronger our nation would have been with her family to back us.”

“Surely there was something you liked about her? Remember what I told you? Find at least one thing you like about a person and grow your relationship from that.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, not one thing but two very large ones that jiggled with every step she took.” He smiled at the memory. “I quite enjoyed watching her laugh.”

I let out a large sigh. “You are hopeless, Kashim.”

He brushed his hand over my hair and down my arm to my hand. “Only about you.”

“Your parents hate how you dote on me. They want you to marry a proper young woman of good breeding not a person like me.”

“A mongrel, you mean. Of course not. Why would any respectable parent want that?”

I pushed at his chest and looked into his eyes. He seemed cold.

“Why would you do all of this, claim that I will be your queen if you had no intentions of following through with such things?”

He hugged me tightly. “Forgive me, Sweet Belle. I do want you to be my queen, but such things are just not done. You are not of the proper breeding.”

“So you mean to have me as your whore?”

“Not a whore, my consort. Only I would have you and no one else making it legal for us to be together.”

“There is little difference between the two and both are insulting.”

I pushed at him but he grabbed my hair tightly in his fist. 

“You are mine. Only I can properly protect you. I do not want you to be harmed by these savages.”

“You are the only one harming me now, Kashim.”

He quickly released me. “Forgive me.” He kissed my hands and let me rise from his lap. “Something happens to me when you are near, Sweet Belle. I find it hard to concentrate and, despite how I love you, it is hard for me to resist tearing your clothes from your body and taking you here in the open.” He seemed so sad and would not look me in the eyes.

“I forgive you, Kashim. You are not in control of all of your thoughts. I admit I too sometimes feel such urges, but I dare not act on them.”

“Why not? I would take very good care of you and our child if it came to that. We could help each other. We could stop these urges in each other.” He sounded desperate.

“Oh, Kashim. You are too much like a brother for me to ever consider such things.”

I could feel the rage building inside of him. It sent chills down my spine.

“A brother? I promised myself to you from the moment we met and mean to keep my word until I die.” He grabbed at me scratching my arm.

“Please, Kashim. You are not yourself. I am clearly no good for you.”

He watched the blood seep from the wound down my arm and started to cry. “My princess, I have hurt you! Please, please forgive me.”

“Maybe I should retire for the night.” I slowly backed away.

“No!” He jumped up sending the chair flying back and his cup shattering to the ground. He wrapped his arms around me. “You must forgive me. I could not… I just….” He inhaled deeply taking in the orchid perfume in my hair and exhaled on my neck. “You must take your gift with you, at least.”

He released me and handed me a small box. Inside was necklace made of gold and a gold daisy pendant decorated with blue jewels.

“You have given me too much already, Kashim, and I can offer you nothing in return.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Then you will wear it?” he asked.

“I fear you think more of this relationship than what is.” I looked at his face. His eyes narrowed at my gaze and the corner of his lip began to twitch.

“Then you will wear it,” he commanded.

“Of course.” I feigned a smile.

“Off to bed with you now.”

I always knew there was something a bit off about my warrior, but I never knew the full extent. The older we grew together, the deeper I came to know the illness that barely presented itself as children. 

My princess. She’s mine! How could she refuse me? I found myself unable to control my anger while walking the corridors and lashed out at everyone who spoke to me. What I really needed was a way to purge my overly confined urges. I promised myself to my sweet Belle, but she was less than eager to fulfill that promise. It only counts with someone worthy of my love anyway.

I had attempted to ease my desires at one of the high end establishments in the pleasure district. I suppose the whores did their jobs good enough for other men, but they didn’t do much for me. I did, however, learn some interesting things from them, ways to give a woman both exquisite pleasure and immeasurable pain. Whores are very good teachers in the ways respectful society prefers not to speak of. How is one supposed to learn them if no one wants to speak of it?

While roaming the halls back at the castle I saw a mongrel girl cleaning in the gardens with her beastly kinsmen. She was not the beauty of my sweet Belle, but she would do. When I approached her, she bowed low as is required of her kind. I smiled and grabbed her by her hair heaving her from the ground and dragging her to my bed chamber. She protested, of course, but she was property. Nothing more. Could just as well have been a goat. It was good enough for what ailed me but not what I truly desired. I wanted to hear my sweet Belle scream like that, more than that, harsher, louder, a tortured soul crying out over and over in blissful agony until the sun set, rose, then set again. I had to imagine what it would sound like just to keep riding that mongrel to my satisfaction.

I presented my new plaything with a golden collar donning the royal seal befitting her new station. She should have been pleased she was no longer cleaning the shit off the streets. Not many nobles take in one of those beasts so openly to keep their beds warm at night, let alone a mongrel girl, but I suppose that is how so many of them came into existence. She was an innocent, like my sweet Belle. It was their unfortunate lot in life having been born the way they were. I was actually doing her a kindness. I was her first, and her second, heh, and her third, but with that collar no one else would dare attempt to be her fourth.

I wanted to place a collar on sweet Belle but she was insulted not realizing how much safer she would be from being attacked by other men. She was lucky enough to escape being branded a slave when she came into the castle, but as such a beautiful young woman it would not take long for others to take notice. She held such a power over me. It was hard for me not to listen to her, like I was under her spell.

My father saw the collar on the mongrel girl when they passed by each other in the corridor. He probably would never have even taken notice if the girl had been walking normally. He confronted me.

“Ronan, what have you been doing with your youth?”

“What does it matter to you, Father?” The nerve. “I have been doing what I wanted since I was born.”

“Still, a slave? Their stations are not to be raised in such a manner. Those island people already bed so many, who knows what sorts of things you could catch being with them.”

I chuckled. “Not that one. She was definitely unspoiled and more than earned the honor of being my first consort.”

“A consort! Really, Ronan. Those people are riddled with disease.”

“Mirabelle is one of those people.”

“And who knows what sorts of diseases she has. It would be best to choose a proper young woman to be one of your personal consorts. The baker’s daughter is young but looks to be very resilient to satisfy your youthful exuberance for a few nights while I choose you another.”

“The baker’s daughter?” I was amazed. “You must be joking.”

“And the young apprentice of the blacksmith has a very lovely sister with red hair and a very ample bosom who would love to live in the castle.” He was practically salivating imagining the young women. I could hear the lust ooze from his breath. “And then there are the golden haired triplets of the grain farmer. He was unfortunate not to have any sons, but his daughters are all very lovely. It would be very likely he will not give them up without a very large fee.”

He reached down trying to make a casual adjustment of his manhood. The thought of those girls did nothing for my own desires. None of them were my sweet, sweet Belle. What I could not understand was why he wanted me to have them when he clearly wanted them for himself. Perhaps he thought I would throw a virgin or two his way. The one I had was fun to break.

“I doubt any of those men would part with their daughters for that purpose, Father.”

“Of course they would. It is the way things are done. They should be honored to call themselves the fathers of a royal consort. Still, we must wean this desire you have to love and protect those beasts. They are property, not pets. I admit that Mirabelle mongrel of yours is very lovely, but she should be properly branded and sold. I bet one of those fetish houses would pay handsomely for her.”

Father babbled on but I stopped listening. The idea that he would lump my sweet Belle in with the common slaves was repulsive and filled me with rage. His final insult about her being a monstrous mongrel girl unfit to even live in the safety of the palace walls caused me to attack him. In one quick movement, I unsheathed the small knife I kept hidden under a flap of fabric near my chest and slit my father’s throat. He took two steps back before the blood began gushing down his chest. He gasped and gargled as the blood impatiently escaped. He had the audacity to reach out to me. After insulting the woman I loved? How absurd!

He tried to scream but there were no words that could escape, only watery gasps and more blood. I reached over and used his robes to clean my knife and hands. I kicked him over when I was finished cleaning and put the knife away. One of the slave girls saw Father thrashing about, bleeding all over the freshly washed floor and she screamed alerting the guard. I loved hearing girls scream and the excitement of my first kill made me ready for my next conquest. Suddenly, the thought of the grain farmer’s triplets seemed like a good idea.

The soldiers appeared quickly, but they’re easy enough to manipulate.

“What has happened here?” Sir Killian arrived shortly after the soldiers.

“One of those beasts killed my father,” I said. “He was quick and came through that window.” The slave girl shook her head ready to protest. “He would have killed me too if that girl had not screamed. She saved my life.”

She looked at me wide-eyed.

“Is this true?” the old fool asked her.

“Are you questioning me?” I asked.

“Only trying to discover the truth, your grace.” He turned his attention back to her. “Is that true?”

She glanced between us. Sir Killian was a very trustworthy person to be sure. He never enjoyed the pleasures of raping a woman before in his life. But she knew that even a man as noble as he could not protect her from me.

“It is as His Majesty says. The man was not from around here. He was not a slave I knew.”

I smiled but he knew she was lying. He would not press the issue, though. Not in front of me anyway. And what could he say? If he accused me of killing my own father it would be my word against his, and I was now king.

“Very well,” Killian finally said. “We shall hunt this man down. If he can blend in with the slaves, then we should kill them all so this type of incident does not happen again.”

“Such a drastic event is very uncharacteristic of you, Sir Killian,” I said.

“If this young lady does not remember his face, then it is the only way to ensure your safety, Your Grace.”

“Indeed.”

I saw the look of panic on the girl’s face. Then the wheels started turning and she glared at me.

“Does this mean my friend Mirabelle would also have to die?” she said losing whatever compassion I may have had for her.

“Yes. All of them.” Killian was so smug.

“I will not issue such a proclamation,” I said between my teeth. “After all, with my father dead I am now king and my word is law.”

“As king’s guard, Your Grace, it is my duty to protect you.”

“I suggest you forget this and move on. I doubt this person will dare return.”

“But how do we know this?” He stood proudly in his arrogance.

I wanted to whip the smug off both of their faces. “If you feel you must kill them all then do so, Sir Killian. But let it be known that I greatly protested the slaughter of hundreds of innocents. And when you are done killing them, I will have you executed for disobeying me.”

I pushed passed him and went to the slave. She looked directly into my eyes. I grabbed her around her neck and shoved her into the arms of one of the soldiers.

“Take her to my bed chamber. This one is in need of breaking.”

I heard her protesting shouts echo down the corridor.

“You should not take your anger out on her, Your Grace. I am the one who pushed the issue.” His voice was almost pleading with me.

“So you recognize my law now?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Forgive me.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You will be on duty outside my chamber tonight. I would feel safer knowing you were outside my door.”

“With all due respect, I do not wish to listen to you torture that young woman.”

I shrugged. “This is my order, Sir Killian.”

He bowed and led the way. Torturing two people at once would be even better than one at a time.