Page 1 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

1

LAURELLE

This dress was made to torture its wearer.

There is no other explanation for its construction. If it was not built for punishment, the designer definitely had a twisted sense of humor. Every breath pushes my ribs painfully against the unyielding fabric. My head pounds from the lack of breath. It’s as if thisthingis drowning me on dry land.

It’s a slow, tortuous death, and yet it pales in comparison to what awaits me at the end of this journey.

Despite my protests, my mother had deemed my discomfort wholly necessary given who was about to receive me. It eradicates the curves my mother considers unbecoming of a respectable young woman, as if my maturing was a personal affront to her constitution.

The purple fabric of the gown is stiff and far too thick for this weather. The hot sun leaks through the carriage windows as we roll along. Sweat slips down my neck, and I know the curls framing my face that my mother had so carefully placed are damp and rapidly losing their perfect coils.

She would be most displeased if she saw the state of me.

As would my father, though nothing seems to please him these days beyond an elevation in status. Apparently, the payment for this elevation comes in the form of this satin prison and a few thousand gold coins.

I swallow. The high neck of my gown obstructs even that movement. I go to lift my hair from my neck, but the sleeves of my gown won’t allow my arms to rise higher than my chest.

This journey to the palace will be unbearably long. Even my companion doesn’t know where to look or what to do. I can’t say I blame Caryssa. If my upbringing was hard, hers was unbearable, especially with a brother like hers.

Her brother…my intended.

Our engagement will not be finalized until I am received at court and my father ships over the dowry owed to my soon-to-be husband. What my father lacks in station, he makes up for in wealth. Our deficiency of connection has always been a thorn in his side.

It was clear to me from an early age that he would earn a title by any means necessary. His children were mere pawns in his game. My siblings had been quite a bit older than me and were already married off to various noblemen by the time I was ten.

Unluckily for me, I had the rare opportunity of marrying a prince.

My mother falling pregnant a few years after the prince’s birth was no coincidence. Even if she had been older—the risks higher—none of it mattered so long as my father had a chance at infiltrating royalty. For all of her faults, my mother is a pawn in all of this as well.

I should be happy to have a title and security within my husband’s household, but I cannot find it within myself to do anything but sit in quiet contemplation. To be the meek and silent girl my parents cultivated as soon as I was young enough to be paraded in front of suitors. My dreams and desires are worthless in the face of my father’s ambitions.

Try as I might, my heart still holds on to them, even as every moment spent in this carriage leads me closer to a fate not of my choosing.

I glance out the window as we continue along the Lord’s Road. When Princess Caryssa came to collect me, we had shopped in town. I had been informed of Prince Carysen’s fondness for the color red. My mother would be proud of how well I kept my composure while my stomach flipped over the idea of dressing for hispleasure.

Our royal escorts advised us we needed to set off before sundown. Silently, I watched as they packed the carriage full of red fabric and gowns quickly tailored to my size. If only this carriage could’ve caught on fire before we climbed inside. I’d rather them be turned to ash than wear them for Prince Carysen.

Caryssa is young, barely older than sixteen, and of a nervous disposition. Even as we sit in silence, I dare a glance over to her and watch her wring her hands for the hundredth time.

Between her silence and this dress, I don’t know what’s making me more uncomfortable.

I can bear it no longer and decide to break the quiet myself.

“Have you been presented at court yet, princess? Your sixteenth name day was only a few months ago?” I ask. Caryssa’s eyes dart up to meet mine. They are a lovely shade of blue. Her hair is just a few shades too dark to be considered blonde, as it sparkles in the dim light of the carriage.

“I—yes, my lady. I was presented when I was fourteen,” she says softly.

“That’s quite young.” Her chin dips, and she shifts uncomfortably. Is her blue gown made of the same horrendous material as mine? I can only imagine it is. “Was it your mother’s idea?”

She shakes her head.

“My father’s. He feels it’s best I secure a betrothal now before I get any aspirations of my own.” The princess blanches at her own words, her light eyes widening as they meet mine. My stomach sinks as my suspicions are confirmed. Whatever scrupulous rules I was under in my family’s home will undoubtedly follow me into my marriage.

“I understand, princess. Our fathers seem quite similar.”

“My apologies, my lady. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn like that,” Caryssa says, her face turning even paler. “I would never want to speak of my father that way. He is a good man—complicated in the way all powerful men are.”

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