Page 2 of A Kiss From a Faerie King

I nod my head, my gaze staying on her face. She looks so young. I’m nearly ten years her senior. Something in me wants to protect her from the dangers of the world. I also want to ask my own mother if I looked that young when she brought me to court for the first time as well.

Caryssa begins wringing her hands again. I dip my chin to try and capture her eye.

“Princess, you may call me Laurelle. We are to be sisters, are we not?”

“Laurelle,” she says, testing my name on her tongue. “That’s pretty. Call me Caryssa, though it’s a name nowhere near as lovely.”

“What would you want it to be?” I ask.

“Want what to be?” She arches a golden brow at me.

“Your name. If you could pick any in the world, what would it be?”

The princess scrunches her nose, deep in thought. For a moment, we seem like two ordinary girls. Sisters even despite looking nothing alike. I could befriend her, help her break free of this cycle that not even my own dreaming could save me from.

Caryssa’s eyes pop open, and a smile graces her lips.

“I think I would like it to be?—”

The carriage jerks to a halt, and we nearly fall off the benches. The sudden jarring movement causes my lacing to squeeze my ribs even tighter. This thing is unbearable. If I had the power to do anything in the world, I’d rip this dress off and never wear another corset again. Or another pair of stiff shoes. Every day, I would wear thin cotton and walk barefoot through the world.

I’m sure my mother’s neck felt a chill by merely thinking that.

Ignoring my throbbing sides, I reach out and touch Caryssa’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she says, though I notice her wincing too.

“Apologizes, Your Majesty,” comes a voice through the carriage window. Glancing over, I see the silver top of a guard’s helmet. “The storm last night upended a tree in our path. The road is blocked, but there’s a shortcut throughThe Woods. We’ll be back on our path in no time.”

My heart pounds in my chest at the mention of them.

“The Woods?” Caryssa’s wary voice echoes my own sentiments. Growing up this close to them, the stories were told throughout my village. Many said they were simple tales to scare misbehaving children, but I’m not sure. There is an eeriness to them, as if something or someone unsavory is lurking in the tree-line.

“We will be quick, princess,” the guard assures her. “The sun isn’t setting for at least another hour. That’s more than enough time to return to the Lord’s Road.”

“Of course,” Caryssa agrees, though her face is still sallow. “Thank you.”

The guard stomps off, and it’s only a few more moments before we begin rolling again. Caryssa still looks unsure, especially as the terrain turns uneven. The jostling of our carriage is only exacerbating the pain from my corset.

“Tell me about your brother,” I say, trying to distract the both of us from the discomfort.

“Oh,” Caryssa whispers. “He’s—well, he’s um…”

Her eyes drift around the carriage. Again, her hesitation only serves to make my discomfort grow. I knew what I was being sent off to do. With my marriage to Prince Carysen, I’ll be a princess. In exchange for my hand and a very large sum of gold, my father will become a duke. I had been less than happy when my father told me of this betrothal.

Barely managing to keep it together long enough to be excused, I locked myself in my room and sobbed quietly, hiding the evidence before word of my response reached my mother’s ears. They wanted me to be grateful. Grateful that I was marrying a man who made my skin crawl. Who I had met one time and who had been obscenely drunk. Who’s eyes and hands wandered. Who cornered me during the evening, and if we had not been interrupted by servants, I shudder to think what would’ve happened.

Grateful to be marrying a man who has a reputation formisplacinghis brides-to-be.

If the rumors are true, I’m his tenth intended in under two years.Worthless gossip, my mother had called the rumors when I questioned how he was available once more for marriage. We heard he was marrying another princess from a faraway kingdom. Only for her to turn up missing a few days after her arrival.

I hope for my sake they are only rumors. Would death be better than a marriage to that beast? Is this what my life has become? When I was younger, I had so many dreams and desires. I had plans for my future. Wants and hopes, and now I’m being driven headlong into my grave.

When I was young, I fantasized about my marriage. It was usually to a faceless hero, a knight who had saved me from a dragon, or a handsome king who saved me from my arithmetic lessons. When I was older, my desires matured with my body. A few of our cooks passed around short novels filled with the most salacious passages. My mother confiscated it and fired them all, but not before I could steal a few sections of the book.

I read the pages over and over until they disintegrated in my hands. Those wanton activities intrigued me because they were in such sharp contrast to my cold, demure life. I dreamed that my marriage bed was the time I could lie in a man’s embrace and bring my pleasure-soaked fantasies to life.

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