“How do you know she was telling you the truth?” he asked, his gaze fixed on hers.
“Why would she lie?” Rosamund said. “She had no reason to tell me a falsehood. And she told me the truth about how to break the curse.”
Silence descended between them as he considered her words. He downed the amber liquid in one gulp and handed off the glass to her mother, who still stood near him.
“The curse was broken, my dear,” her mother said. “Rosamund sitting here is proof of that. I believe she’s right. There is no reason why Queen Elara would lie.”
“Then my fears were unfounded. The spies I sent to the border lied,” he said.
“Perhaps they were misled and given false information,” her mother suggested. “Perhaps someone within Faery wanted a war.”
“Who?” he asked.
“I should think Rowena. She is meddlesome and likes to play with people’s lives, clearly,” Rosamund said. “When you slighted her by not inviting her, she took out all her hate and vengeance on me.”
Her father’s gaze drifted back to her face. She saw the contemplation in his eyes and knew he was trying to work out how everything had happened and why.
“It appears we never needed a betrothal, either,” he said. “Though why Reginald agreed to it, I have no idea. I suppose canceling the wedding was for the best.”
“No,” Rosamund said, the word sharp.
Her father lifted his brows in surprise. “No?”
“Tell him how the curse was broken, Rosamund,” her mother said, her tone hard and firm.
He glanced from his wife to Rosamund, perplexed. “Yes. Please tell me.”
Rosamund swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “Queen Elara said only one thing would break it. True love’s kiss.”
She said nothing else as she allowed her words to sink in. Her father leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he peered at her with curiosity.
“True love’s kiss?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Rosamund said.
“And who was the one who broke it?”
“My dear, I think you know who,” her mother said before she could answer.
“It was Prince Phillip,” Rosamund added.
He stared at her in disbelief, then glanced up at his wife. “Prince Phillip?”
“I love him,” she said. “And he loves me. And if it’s all the same to you, Papa, we’d like to marry.”
“Marry the prince?” he said.
“Yes, Papa.”
He shot to his feet. There was color high in his cheeks. “I have already called off the wedding.”
“You can speak with King Reginald,” her mother said. “Tell him you made a hasty decision and that you apologize.”
“I will do no such—”
“You will,” her mother said, her voice stern. “And you will go this minute.”
He huffed out an exasperated breath. “My darling—”