Page 7 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
On my eighteenth birthday, I was promised to a wealthy king from a faraway land. He was nothing special. Dark eyes that lingered too long and the scent of spiced wine always upon his breath. He was an unusually young king. The throne was passedto him early, denying him the years of wisdom and experience most gain before taking their crowns. Negotiations turned sour, and in the end, the agreement was broken. I’ve never been given the exact details. There were rumors of invasions soon after, of that king conquering distant lands. His death was mentioned but never confirmed.
The scandal left a bad taste in my father’s mouth and saved me from being betrothed again those next few years. My marital offers were more closely scrutinized after that. None met his expectations. Until now… apparently.
Any second she’s going to speak the name of some young, dopey prince who has been chosen as my suitor for life. I swear if it’s the nitwit prince from that pumped-up farming kingdom on the southern tip of the continent, I’ll scream.
My mother takes another sip of tea, steadying herself. “As you know, the King of Honenbrie recently lost his wife.”
A not-so-subtle gasp escapes past my lips. “Mother, you can’t be serious.”
“Come now, Lenore. He is a kind and fair man.”
“He is the same age as Father!” Ebenest Hoff, the King of Honenbrie, has been my father’s closest friend for as long as I can remember. “I cannot be expected to marry someone so old. Honestly, Mother. He has children my age!” Suddenly that idiot farmer prince is looking more appealing.
“Yes, he does. King Hoff has eleven children, nine of whom are boys. Which means he has plenty of heirs. But since your father and I have not and will not produce a boy…” She drops her eyes to the rose-flavored macarons stacked high on a plate below her. “It will be up to you.”
My mouth is sticky. “Me?”
“King Hoff has agreed that if you marry, your firstborn son will be allowed to ascend the throne of Roseheart.”
I’m grateful nothing but tea has passed my lips, for it would surely come tumbling up my throat and back onto the table. “Bear his children?”
My mother nods. “As soon as possible. An heir must be conceived to ensure our family’s legacy remains intact.”
An image of King Hoff lifting me high in the air as I giggle wildly swims to the surface of my memories. My nausea grows. More than half of his children are older than I am. To have to share a bed with him…
“Oh, my love.” Mother reaches over the plates of food in a manner that is quite frankly unbefitting of a queen. Her hand is warm as it grasps mine. “Being born into royalty offers us so many wonderful experiences. We wear the finest gowns, eat the most luxurious of foods, and are waited on at every moment of the day. There are a few important things that are expected of us in return.”
“Like our freedom?” I don’t try to hide my bitter tone. Her fingers stroke mine.
“You are not a bird in a cage, Lenore. You are a flower in a garden. A beautiful garden that is tended to day and night.”
“A garden with great stony walls.” I pull my hand away from hers, setting it in my lap and gripping my skirts, wishing I could rip the fabric to ease my frustration.
“If that is how you wish to see it.” She leans back in her seat, sadness passing across her regal gaze. “You have the choice to grow or wither within those walls. A beauty like yours must seek the sun.”
“I prefer the night.” I’m being childish. I know that. But the idea of my chances at a fairytale romance being snatched away so soon has leeched the regality and poise from me.
Arranged marriages are expected among royalty. Still, I dreamed of a match that stopped my marriage protests, stunning me into silence when a beautiful, kind prince wasthrust into my path.How lucky you are to have found such a match, people would say.It is true love, no doubt, they would croon. Instead, the people will nod.A sensible match.So wise of her father to arrange such an advantageous marriage.
They’ll pity me. I know they will. I can already see the sullen nods as I drag my feet down the garishly ornate aisle. Hear the apologetic whispers as my head hangs low, heavy from the weight of my wedding veil and stolen future.
“Poor dear.”
“She’s so young.”
“As old as her father.”
“He will protect you.” Her gaze shifts to my neck. She doesn’t need to say more. I know what she’s thinking. The collar instantly feels too hot against my throat.
“I prefer freedom over protection.” I scrape my index finger against my thumb, loosening a piece of skin on the corner of the nail bed. Using the edge of my nail, I pick at it, over and over until I feel the familiar sting of the layer peeling too deep. I bring my thumb to my mouth, biting at the skin, pulling until it tears off. Blood wells around my cuticle.
“Lenore. Stop that.” She brings those graceful fingers to her forehead, gently rubbing her brow. “This is a good match for you. Ebenest is patient and wise. His kingdom is said to be beautiful in the summer.”
My head snaps up. “I have to leave home?” It’s a silly question. Why would I marry and remain in my childhood castle? Still, it all feels so soon, despite the fact that many girls in my position are forced to marry as young as fourteen. Making it to twenty-two unwed is unheard of. I should be grateful no one has written me off as a spinster yet.Shouldbe. I’m not. I want my freedom.
I want to run through the forest and sleep naked under the stars. I want to disappear to a cottage in the woods, seeing nota human soul for months, enjoying the company of the animals and trees. I want to gorge myself on wild berries until my fingers and face are stained purple and pink. I want to kiss the most beautiful, breath-stealing lips. Hiding beneath the rose trellis while the summer rain pours from above. I want so much more than a princess is allowed.
“You will make Honenbrie your home, as I have made Roseheart mine.” My mother makes everything sound so simple.
