Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
But it’s quiet out here apart from the natural sounds of the evening. A couple of guards stand silently at the far ends, not close enough to hear what Isabel and I are saying. The champagne is crisp on my tongue. It’s not my favorite kind, and maybe that’s what makes it clear what I want.
“That’s not it,” I tell Isabel. “I wanted… I want to be married. I want the next part of my life to begin. I’ve wanted that since last year, only no one took notice.”
“Cora!” Isabel’s eyes widen in shock.
Quickly I explained, “No one approached my father. No one seemed to show any interest in me. For a while, I thought it was because there was something wrong with me—something no one was willing to tell me.”
“There is nothing wrong with you.”
“I know… I know that now. But I also know more. I want more. I crave to be truly desired.”
“You would have more, if you were married. You would have the new life you want. You would have more freedom—”
A soft laugh echoes in the distance from the garden. No people are in sight, so the couple I saw when we came out must have hidden themselves away to flirt or kiss or even touch where there are no prying eyes.
I lower my voice to respond. “Maybe,” I allow. “But maybe I wouldn’t. If my father chose a man who turned out to be controlling, or who wanted me to be a queen who was seen and not heard, I wouldn’t be free.”
“Your father will choose carefully,” Isabel says. “You are his only daughter. But in order to choose, he must have choices.”
“And what am I to do about that?” I wave my free hand at the garden. “Do you see them, lining up to kiss my hand? No! He’s had all the time in the world to find options.”
“With the right suitor, I think you would be much happier, in many ways. Not least of all, you would not have to spend so much time worrying about it.”
“That’s true.” More champagne. I can’t have too much, because it’s not proper for a princess to be seen under the influence of drink. It’s warming me, along with the night air, and taking the sharper edges off my feelings. “I just don’t see it happening. We can’t cast a magic spell and have the perfect prince appear,” I murmur.
“Something must be done. The king doesn’t have all the time in the world,” Isabel muses. “He is getting older. It is best if you are married soon.”
“I know.” My mood sobers. I do not like to think of the day when he will pass. It was hard enough losing my mother, and she was gone too soon. “So it seems he’s put us both in a difficult spot. He can’t be seen to rush any marriage negotiations, and he can’t be seen to linger too long, which he already might’ve done. He can’t be seen to beg for offers—”
“Oh, that’s hardly how it would seem!”
“So I say, why do I need a husband at all? I will be queen whether or not there is a man on my arm!”
“Yes,” Isabel laughs again. “But there is another side of the coin! Some in the land prefer to look upon a king.”
“That’s because they’re right bastards,” I say boldly, and we both dissolve into giggles. Once again that warmth flows through me as we rest our backs side by side along the stone castle wall. Just like we’ve done since we were children.
Isabel is not so much older than I am, and for this small bit of time us, it’s as if we’re both children again who still think of marriage as a game to be played, where the most important thing is deciding what fabrics we’ll have our gowns made out of and who will be our ladies in the ceremony and what songs shall be played first at the ball afterward. Before reality took a firm hold on our hearts and minds. When I was much younger, I barely thought of the man who would stand with me at the altar. I thought of the gilded carriage we would ride through the streets after the ceremony, and the floral petals of confetti that would rain down on us from the rooftops, and all the bells in the city ringing to celebrate our love.
It was almost as if I pictured it from the outside looking in. Like another painted portrait. I didn’t think of how much the gown would weigh on me or how many obligations I would have throughout the day and then into the night.
My wedding night.
If I do as my father says, then I will still be a virgin with no experiences of a man on my wedding night. I’ll spend the day clothed in a gown meant to symbolize the riches of our kingdom and represent the gift that my father is giving to my new husband, and then I will have to give myself away to him, too, without knowing my own preferences in bed.