Leena was finally taller than the servant she couldn't stand to look at. That did not make her stronger. 3 years had passed without sending her to the temple. It had also been 3 years since she had read a letter from her parents.

And her husband to be had filled out, even grew a beard, with a visage far stronger than her father's golden looks. No one called him a boy anymore.

While she had gained the height to stand at his side, she hadn't grown into womanhood. She dangled like a long-legged spider everywhere she went. Often, it felt like she had 8 legs, but she'd learn better any time a foot missed a step.

If he would spend time with her, anything, she'd have fallen into the kind of crush that puts a perfect man on a pedestal. As they were betrothed, it would be right and just, and... Oh, why the heck did she bother to make herself stressed for his sake?

And so, Iva started telling what she hoped was bald-faced lies about how great a lover he was. True, she did sneak out on most nights to sleep with someone in his camp. But a princess, even one banished from home and into his godforsaken arms—although she had no use for them either—deserved more respect.

By this point, her pride wouldn't lean on him for a farthing. Not that she paid for anything.

The most pressing matter was the horrid servant, who made it impossible for her to walk the camp in peace. Too many times, an elbow would catch her ribs, leaving Leena bruised and wheezing.

She would have to take off her whole dress to prove what the witch was doing.

Anything that could not be passed off as a servant doing their duty, the woman avoided. That still left a troubled level beyond rational. Her food was severely rationed to keep her fit for childbearing. Forget that Leena had no shape to bear a child. Any hobbies that would have wiled away the time were damaged. This included embroidery, but Leena had to keep at it to make sure she had a needle for when she pricked herself for the cup. So she kept at the mangled mess, dreaming of stabbing her companion.

That was another sore point. Andrik was certain that every fainting spell she had stemmed from wearing The Cup of Madness. Well, she did pass out, and he'd take it from her, only to have her wear it when they must use her.

It didn't give her peace from the statue. He appeared every time she was left alone and continued to tell her the news of the camp. That was another thing the wench should have provided. The other obsession it had was that she needed to stay awake and keep the chalice. He still wanted her to sacrifice her fingertip. She would gain a servant as her voice instead of her silence.

After 3 years, she was more than ready. But there was never enough food on the trays brought to her to prevent the fainting. It was an enraging experience. Many dark feelings that she couldn't understand when they first fled north now made sense.

The one that wore on her most was the feeling that she should be back at the palace. She should be playing hide-and-seek with her brother, not working at a useless task to appease shallow noblemen.

The night before they would go back to Lord Smetikakat's land to end this year's Blackrot invasion, the servant went to sleep where she would. Leena thought she would get some peace.

No. The statue managed to carry in a large drumstick for the Princess.

The girl ate ravenously, as the growing were wont to do.

"How ladylike." The statue leaned against the doorflap's post, examining his nails for bird gristle.

"Shut up." She gnawed at the bits that wouldn't come off the bone and contemplated cracking it for the marrow, too. "You could have killed her years ago without this damn pact. I remember what you did when I was a baby."

"It was 8 years ago, in a situation you wouldn't be blamed for. But you're out here, causing miracles, and her death will point to black magic, and you need your fool of a fiancé's backing. Remind me, again, when did he last do that?"

"Fuck off." She used the rage of his continued needling to snap the bone and pick at its insides with her pinky.

"Again, so ladylike." The statue strolled over and tucked an errant strand behind the girl's ear. She couldn't help the sad little flush that crossed her cheeks.

Leena thought it was the height of madness to have an interest in a creature that wasn't more than a figment of her imagination. Especially if others never saw him. There was still a part of her that didn't think he was real. Was he a hollow hero with hands too tied to be a savior?

He gently took the bones from her hands and took a rag to wipe them clean. "You need to sleep. I want you to stay awake and argue against him touching the chalice. You can't do that if you stay up waiting for that dumb woman."

She nodded.

Thankfully, she was already dressed for bed. It became more difficult to find the time to change with his chronic interrupts. That earned a complaint from Iva about her poor hygiene.

No one could make her change in front of him. She would rather test her betrothed with that. He wouldn't look because he didn't care.

~~~

In the morning, she strode around, dressing herself. Iva covered her head and grumbled about the daylight seeping in from the crack in the tent flap.

Normally, she let the fool woman hold them back. The type of fight she needed to have with her fiancé was not one that this woman would help—that, and he would fuss about fighting in front of the servants again. Rushing her was the best chance of ditching her. Andrik had very little patience for wasteful propriety.

Her maid hobbled behind, sore from whomever she slept with the night before. Many "But, M'lady, you're not ready!"s were dripped like tears on this trail through the tents.

Leena found her lip curling in disgust. Iva was a fool for letting men get to her, to make her weak. It would be the witch's downfall if the princess could help it along.

After 3 years, she knew the pattern they pitched tents in well enough to find her fiancé's with remarkable speed. She slammed her palm on the post to knock.

"Come in!"

Leena took a deep breath. It didn't matter the rare time he visited her's with Iva as chaperone, the idea of walking in on him was intimidating. "Do you really want me to stride in there, Andrik?"

A clatter of his washbasin, followed by a curse, delayed his response. "No, I am shaving in a half-dressed state, Leena."

"M'lady, you're not ready!" whinged the maid.

"Stop your wheedling before he thinks I'm the one who stormed through camp bowlegged in my nightgown. You weren't ready! I grow weary of waiting on you."

That forced the duke to step outside. He was shirtless, save for the towel draped across his shoulder. Apparently his trimmed beard took some effort to not swamp his neck, if the lather was anything to go by.

Leena blinked. She could have an existential crisis over lust and hating him when she was left alone. It was doubtful that Iva and the statue would give her such peace. The titter of her maid grounded her, as that action was exactly what she wanted to upend. Who cared what he looked like? He was part of why she was miserable.

He dropped his voice low. "Leena, this is not how nobles should act."

"Ah, yes, I'm supposed to be more of a cow than she is. It's been 3 years. Either get rid of her, or I will."

She hated how his eyes crinkled. Amused or seething, who cared why he did it? "Iva, go back to her tent. We will do this trip early, and she'll be back in your care afterward."

The maid never balked at his orders. Leena was not surprised to see her scurry off like the wretch she was.

"As for you? You will wait by the door until I'm ready."

Leena leaned against a tent pole after he went inside. Most of the men milling about ignored her, but the few that did glance her way went out of their way to avoid her. It was as if they felt a woman shouldn't be in their camp at all.

Not like she was so much of one to be noticeable. She contemplated cutting off her hair and dressing as the younger males did. Those servants scurried about, doing the work older warriors demanded of them. Many times, she didn't know where the boy was page, squire, apprentice, or servant. The divisions among the older men were clear. No one would mistake the cook, portsman, blacksmith, or farrier for knights.

Before she could sink too deep into her study of people her age, her betrothed strode out. He gestured for her to follow, having fallen out of the habit of escorting her over the years.

This lord no longer came out to meet them after calling them in to cleanse his property. Part of it was because he increased the size of his profitable crops at the expense of the food it took to feed his people. Andrik glowered as he wanted to salt the fields. "I want to be done with this fool's using us for his profit margin."

But he knew their place—all their places. That was in a tomato field, squishing the fruit of the plant into the cup.

Leena sighed. She had come to hate raw tomatoes. Trying to bring a corked jug of anything else with her had that bumbling idiot doing everything in her power to misplace or break the thing. The princess wound up more disappointed when she tried to avoid this fate.

She placed the chain around her neck before pricking her finger. The needle piercing hurt less than anything her servant did to her. It hadn't hurt much the first time she did it in the library. Then, she had not grown accustomed to pain.

Leena downed the concoction and tried to relax as the power coiled out of her like a famine seeking a feast. The last dregs shook her, nearly falling to her knees. This was where she would often faint, famished. Instead, today that ravenous hunger forced her to grab at the nearby fruit and devour it, green.

"These are not your fields, princess." The reprimand from the duke was mild, as tomato spilled down her chin.

She swallowed hastily and wiped at her mouth. "So you, too, want me to faint from hunger."

The man appeared bewildered. "The provisions I've set aside for you are enough to feed two grown men. How much more do you need?"

Leena shrugged, knowing that what he said and what she ate were nothing alike. They were alone enough; she could lay out so much of the abuse right now.

But on the off chance that he would behave responsibly toward her, she kept silent. Three years was enough to want this woman's blood, even at the tender age of 13.