1
Genevieve
Ishouldn’t have had that fourth cup of tea. Of course, had I thought about how long-winded Lord Willoughby can be, I would have reconsidered drinkinganyat all.
I wiggle uncomfortably in my chaise, centered with Mother, Queen of Naseria and the members of her council flanking me on either side. Mother has always preferred to meet her councilors in this room, filled with understated elegance and creature comforts. It would be a relaxing place to enjoy an afternoon, if not for the current company. Light streams through the gossamer curtains, a perfect spring day just out of my reach.
Will Willoughby never stop his incessant prattling about the urgency of my reproductive capabilities? At twenty-eight, I’m considered behind on reproducing—over the hill. Yet, due to the nature of my blueblood gift, I’ve also become something of a difficult marital prospect, despite the fact that I will inherit the crown in two years’ time. Goodness knows I’ve tried to find love, but love is a rather ficklething, and when one is cursed to make every man fall in love with her, it begins to lose its value.
Nevertheless, the council and my mother can’t seem to stop fearing for the security of the nation if I take the crown unwed.
By my age, Mother had already produced four heirs and would have her fifth before she took the crown at thirty. It’s not as if I’m unaware of my duty to provide heirs, but with the brood my parents created, the kingdom needn’t fret when there’s a healthy line of heirs at the ready. Even still, I want an opportunity to have the life I’ve dreamed of—a family, children of my own, a companion to stand by my side when I take the throne.
This is why I’ve chosen my own husband. I can’t waste any more years yearning for something I lost and will never regain. I can’t hope for the love my parents share, or even the love my siblings will one day find. The solution is simple: choose a neighboring blueblood prince who can provide an advantageous alliance with Naseria. Prince Leland Frostclaw is everything I could want in an arranged marriage—kind, diplomatic, and loyal to his sister, Queen Kalise Frostclaw, in all manners of Icelantica’s political needs.
I wish there were some way for me to escape—if only to find a few moments to myself. As I gently set my teacup down on the coffee table in front of me, the silk of my glove slips, and I nearly let the cup clink against its saucer. A small cough tells me the mistake didn’t go unnoticed, and I breathe out slowly, trying to regain my composure.
Lord Willoughby is sweating so profusely I dare say he deserves a break of his own. He could do with a bit of mopping up before continuing to warn me about my womb’s impending expiration.
Lord Fenweir, another stodgy old council member, barks out, “Princess Genevieve, have you considered whether the FrostclawQueen will claim your own offspring as her heir? What if she demands the child be raised in Icelantica?”
I can’t keep the frown from my face at the utter shock of his suggestion. Why would Kalise Frostclaw ever want to claim my future children as her heirs?
“That wasn’t on my list of concerns when I chose to marry Prince Leland. Why would you believe his sister would have any interest in our future children?”
My mother, Queen Penelope, subtly twitches her left eye in my direction. The indiscernible gesture goes unnoticed by the other council members and Father. But it’s all too familiar to me.Stand down. Let the men speak. Let them tell you what you’ve overlooked. Stay in your place.
Lord Fenweir clears his throat just as I take a sip of tea, a phlegmy sound that makes me want to gag into my cup. I hold it back, because propriety allows a man to make bodily sounds in public, but of course the Crown Princess of Naseria wouldneverdo anything so crass as make an indiscreet noise or spit in her tea.
After Fenweir has managed to clear whatever blockage was in his throat, he says, “All our reports show that Queen Kalise will make no attempt to secure a husband for herself. Her gift is far too volatile for producing children, leaving the kingdom without an heir other than Prince Leland. If they believe they can secure an heir through you—”
This has gone on long enough. I interrupt him as politely as possible, sweetly replying to his illogical trepidations.
“Lord Fenweir, I hardly see this as a cause for concern. If anything, it only strengthens my desire to seek an alliance with Icelantica through marriage. My future child may unite the two kingdoms—or perhaps I shall have two future rulers. Now, do excuse me,” I say, standing as I make my way to the door. The hem of my skirts slides across thepolished marble floor, and I dart away before Mother has a moment to correct my terribly rude manners. I try to avoid her gaze but lose my resolve when I see her eye twitch, her mouth a firm, disapproving line.
The twelve other councilors rise as I pass, bowing low. They’re all bluebloods, all from noble families that rose to power after the War of the Blood three generations ago—eight men and four women, bound to serve the Queen and the crown. Soon, they’ll be bound to serve me. A part of me hopes some will choose to step down so I can appoint my own council, but that’s probably too optimistic.
I reach the door just as Father shuffles forward, a bright smile on his face. I hold up a hand and give him a kind smile in return. “I propose we reconvene in fifteen minutes to finalize our discussions. We still have plenty to cover before Prince Leland and Queen Kalise arrive tomorrow.”
The door is opened for me, and I make my way across the burgundy-carpeted hallway toward my private rooms. I just need a moment alone—a moment’s peace without everyone trying to tell me what to do. Servants curtsy low as I pass, pausing their work to murmur, “Your Highness.” I give a quick nod of acknowledgment before padding up a flight of stairs to the family’s private wing and my own apartment.
Stepping inside feels like a weight has lifted from my shoulders. The sweet scent of freshly cut flowers fills the air, and I want to collapse on the pink velvet couch—or better yet, escape down my private stairs to my glasshouse, where I can finally slip off my silk gloves and tend to my plants. All rare tropical species from the southern continent, Kennon, so far beyond the reach of our own continent, Inver, that trade is arduous and nearly impossible. These plants are more precious than gold or jewels and have become my prized possessions: begonias with long, spotted leaves and soft pink flowers, delicate calatheas, andlarge, robust philodendrons fill my private sanctuary. All I want to do is tiptoe down the steps and disappear into my personal paradise.
But that will have to wait until evening. For now, take care of my needs, freshen my face and hair as best I can and prepare to return to the discussion on my upcoming wedding.
My wedding.
I dreamed for so long of this day as a girl. I always pictured it as the perfect love match, just like Mother and Father. But even then, I could only ever picture one boy. I thought we’d live happily ever after, ruling Naseria side by side.
Of course, there’s no such thing as happily ever after. The boy I always dreamed of made sure it would never be mine. If the heartache I endured from Kieran Greenbluff wasn’t enough, the manifestation of my gift—the moment all blueblood children dream of—turned my fantasy into a nightmare.
The gift of love sounded like a fairytale ending after Kieran abandoned me and was reported dead. When I realized my blueblood had blessed me with love, I thought I’d finally have someone who would see me for who I am—that I’d finally let go of the pain he left behind. Instead, my gift became a curse, for any man who touches me falls madly in love with me. But it’s not true love. Lust is a better description, though such a term, when used toward the crown princess, is considered crass. Mother helped me settle on the termlove, although what I’ve experienced at the hands of the men who claimed to love me was anything but.
Love implies mutual affection, but my gift deceives only the man who touches me, leaving me to feel the empty ache of another’s desire. After years of learning how insidious my gift truly is, I’ve become resolute in giving up on love.
After all, the only boy I ever loved left me.
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