Chapter One: A Tyrant
Lady Marian Wessex
My pale-pink dress is at odds with my dour mood. Though there isn’t anything I can do about the color, seeing as King Ferdinand forbade us from wearing mourning blacks for Prince Alvor, I don’t have to smile.
The desire to smile is nonexistent today. Nothing about this gathering at the king’s castle encourages me to feel anything but contempt and sadness.
The young men around me are sniveling, the women are simpering, and it all feels like too much. I haven’t even heard the king speak yet, but I know it’ll just make today worse. I always leave the castle morose, and spending time here makes it hard to think. I’m blaming it on the overly perfumed women and the choking colognes the men wear.
The doors of the ballroom are thrown open, and in waltzes King Ferdinand, a monstrous golden crown atop his head and red robes with golden trim and lace covering every inch of the fabric.
It’s gaudy, and I hate it.
The room falls silent, and the buzzing in my mind quiets, only to be replaced by a thick fog as King Ferdinand speaks.
“My friends. I appreciate all who have expressed their condolences at the loss of my son. It is truly . . . tragic.”
It really is tragic. Prince Alvor was the only kind man in the courts.
My nose starts to tingle as my eyes sting.
“Seeing as I no longer have an heir, it is time for me to remarry. Our kingdom has been without a queen for too long. Which is why I will be choosing a bride from among the nobility of our people.”
The rest of King Ferdinand’s words flow past my ears without me hearing them.
A bride from among the nobility.
That could be me.
My stomach churns, and I lift my hand to cover my mouth.
Quiet clapping sounds around me, and though I don’t know what we’re clapping for, I reluctantly join in.
“As we are to soon have a series of balls as I find my future wife, I will dismiss you all. Do not forget to settle your accounts with my steward as you leave today.”
Heads bob as the sea of nobility exits the ballroom, not a complaint that we came here for a simple announcement among them.
Father grips my arm tightly. “We must hurry, Marian.”
“Why?” I ask.
He shakes his head, frantically looking around him. “I will speak of it later. For now, let us leave.”
My brows furrow, but I keep my complaints and questions to myself.
We’re ushered out of the castle after Father pays his gold coin for attending the function. It’s a recent change that King Ferdinand instated, citing it necessary to pay for the lavish parties he throws for his nobles. The party we didn’t even get to participate in tonight.
Father ushers me into the carriage, and when the door closes, he lets out a heavy breath. He wipes his forehead with his handkerchief and watches the window with apprehension.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Father takes a deep breath. “I’ve arranged for you to marry Prince Caladen of Rovia.”
My jaw drops. “You have done what?”
Father keeps his gaze trained on the window. “It’s a good thing, too. I do not wish you to be among the potential brides for King Ferdinand. When we get home, you shall pack up your things and I shall gather your dowry items. We’ll head for the border tomorrow. We should arrive in Rovia the following day.”
“But I don’t even know him—”
Father’s eyes turn on me. “No, but you shall do as you’re told. It’s for the best.”
I bite my tongue. How many times have we attended court functions because it’s “for the best”? I don’t entirely trust that sentiment, especially when it takes a decision out of my hands.
If only I could escape all of this and choose a husband for myself.
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