in her panicked state and shrug. “Roses?”
She grimaces; a disbelieving look crosses her face. “We have much to do.” She drops the ribbons on the bed. Her weathered skin shines with sweat. “We have to prepare your bath of oils and potpourri. We have to pluck—”
“Absolutely no plucking, Madity,” I cut her off. “I’ll remove what hair I wish with a scrub.” Honestly, sometimes the era is just cruel.
She scrunches her face and points toward the bathing room. The line between her eyebrows deepens, and she purses her lips, daring me to argue with her no-nonsense task of readying me for the ceremony.
For her sake, I surrender. I don’t want to get her into trouble, or possibly punished for my stubbornness. I sigh and march into the bathing room. I’m in for a painful transformation.
* * *
The archway is dark. A curtain of midnight-blue velvet is the only thing separating me from the hall of citizens awaiting the betrothal of Prince Sebastian and his chosen princess.
My face flames. A mixture of anger and embarrassment causes my heart to beat faster, my blood rushing through my veins, as I think about meeting Sebastian at the altar. I’ve not heard from him since my display in the arcade. I’m sure he’s plenty vexed, but apparently not enough if I’m standing here now, readying myself to become his betrothed. I fear I’d have to humiliate him far worse for him to call off this engagement.
Fury pools in my stomach like fiery lava as I remember his cruel words to me in the inner ward. I try to douse it, reminding myself that I can’t show my revulsion for the prince. Not with all of Karm watching. I bury his words, and the knowledge of him depriving me of my last moments with my father, deep inside.
I must get through tonight.
Madity stands next to me, her sure hands fidgeting with the lace backing of my gown. The skirt flows to the floor, leaving a trail of white satin behind me. The long white sleeves connect at the lace-trimmed bodice, leaving my shoulders bare. It’s more skin than I’ve ever shown in public, and I continually tug at the sleeves, trying to pull them higher.
Back in my chamber, Madity applied a beige cream to my hands to conceal the scrapes. My hair was worked into a braided halo around my head with white satin ribbon woven through, achieving the angel effect Madity strove for. She outdid herself. Even I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.
Though this is merely the engagement, proof to God and everyone that we intend to marry, it’s taken quite seriously. A robed friar awaits me at the altar. He’s to bless us, confirm our intentions to marry, and cry the banns, asking if anyone knows a reason for us not to be united.
I imagine Hadley springing from her pew and denouncing the betrothal, but that’s a ridiculous thought. Even if she wished to do so for my sake, she can’t, not without putting herself in danger. I harbor no false hope of anyone speaking out against this union.
My head swims as Madity gives my dress one last fluff, then turns toward the little boy holding my commitment gift to Sebastian. A round, silver locket that he’ll clip to his vest. And inside it, a lock of my hair.
“Remember to stay to the right,” she tells the boy. “Just behind Princess Zara.”
He nods while yanking on the collar of his blue vest, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
Madity disappears down the corridor, and in a few moments, returns with a thin, silver band. A crown. From here on out, I’ll be expected to wear it. I bow my head for her as she gently places it over my braid. One small blue jewel drips from its center, resting against my brow.
“You’re breathtaking, Zara,” she says. “I mean, Princess Zara.” She bows once, then turns and joins the other help standing along the back wall of the hall.
I self-consciously rub my leg, wanting to feel my dagger, but the itchy material of my garter chafes me instead. I hid the dagger in my chamber. I’d not
She grimaces; a disbelieving look crosses her face. “We have much to do.” She drops the ribbons on the bed. Her weathered skin shines with sweat. “We have to prepare your bath of oils and potpourri. We have to pluck—”
“Absolutely no plucking, Madity,” I cut her off. “I’ll remove what hair I wish with a scrub.” Honestly, sometimes the era is just cruel.
She scrunches her face and points toward the bathing room. The line between her eyebrows deepens, and she purses her lips, daring me to argue with her no-nonsense task of readying me for the ceremony.
For her sake, I surrender. I don’t want to get her into trouble, or possibly punished for my stubbornness. I sigh and march into the bathing room. I’m in for a painful transformation.
* * *
The archway is dark. A curtain of midnight-blue velvet is the only thing separating me from the hall of citizens awaiting the betrothal of Prince Sebastian and his chosen princess.
My face flames. A mixture of anger and embarrassment causes my heart to beat faster, my blood rushing through my veins, as I think about meeting Sebastian at the altar. I’ve not heard from him since my display in the arcade. I’m sure he’s plenty vexed, but apparently not enough if I’m standing here now, readying myself to become his betrothed. I fear I’d have to humiliate him far worse for him to call off this engagement.
Fury pools in my stomach like fiery lava as I remember his cruel words to me in the inner ward. I try to douse it, reminding myself that I can’t show my revulsion for the prince. Not with all of Karm watching. I bury his words, and the knowledge of him depriving me of my last moments with my father, deep inside.
I must get through tonight.
Madity stands next to me, her sure hands fidgeting with the lace backing of my gown. The skirt flows to the floor, leaving a trail of white satin behind me. The long white sleeves connect at the lace-trimmed bodice, leaving my shoulders bare. It’s more skin than I’ve ever shown in public, and I continually tug at the sleeves, trying to pull them higher.
Back in my chamber, Madity applied a beige cream to my hands to conceal the scrapes. My hair was worked into a braided halo around my head with white satin ribbon woven through, achieving the angel effect Madity strove for. She outdid herself. Even I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.
Though this is merely the engagement, proof to God and everyone that we intend to marry, it’s taken quite seriously. A robed friar awaits me at the altar. He’s to bless us, confirm our intentions to marry, and cry the banns, asking if anyone knows a reason for us not to be united.
I imagine Hadley springing from her pew and denouncing the betrothal, but that’s a ridiculous thought. Even if she wished to do so for my sake, she can’t, not without putting herself in danger. I harbor no false hope of anyone speaking out against this union.
My head swims as Madity gives my dress one last fluff, then turns toward the little boy holding my commitment gift to Sebastian. A round, silver locket that he’ll clip to his vest. And inside it, a lock of my hair.
“Remember to stay to the right,” she tells the boy. “Just behind Princess Zara.”
He nods while yanking on the collar of his blue vest, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
Madity disappears down the corridor, and in a few moments, returns with a thin, silver band. A crown. From here on out, I’ll be expected to wear it. I bow my head for her as she gently places it over my braid. One small blue jewel drips from its center, resting against my brow.
“You’re breathtaking, Zara,” she says. “I mean, Princess Zara.” She bows once, then turns and joins the other help standing along the back wall of the hall.
I self-consciously rub my leg, wanting to feel my dagger, but the itchy material of my garter chafes me instead. I hid the dagger in my chamber. I’d not
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