His big hand lands on the door handle with a thud, the echo of the sound reverberating through the air. He pauses.
My breath catches in my throat when he slowly turns and looks straight at me. I can’t see the color of his eyes in the darkness. All I can make out are two black holes staring back at me, unblinking.
He can’t see me, I remind myself. I am completely hidden from view in the shadows, and yet his stare is so intense that I dare not look away. He doesn’t move, but I can see his breath coming out in puffs.
Call it defiance, call it vanity, but Iwanthim to see me. Before I can talk myself out of it, I get up from my place in a rustle of skirts and straighten to my full height. I lift my chin high, as my mother taught me to, and turn away from him, walking slowly back to my room. A few seconds later, the heavy door slams shut.
Chapter 2
SIX MONTHS LATER
“You look beautiful, my love,” my mother coos as she runs her hands over the bodice of my gown.
“Thank you, my lady. You were right about the color,” I say as I stare into the mirror. The deep red of my wedding dress is a stark contrast to my fashionably white skin, like blood on freshly fallen snow. Unbidden, images of my unresponsive body creep into my mind. Imagine the drama of it all! My lifeless limbs stretched out, crimson pooling around me, a million little snowflakes soaking up the red, melting from the warmth of it. My mother—screaming, my father commanding his soldiers to fetch me, my husband-to-be distraught by my demise. ‘She was so young,’they will say, ‘her beauty will be unmatched,’they will scream. But I will be dead, unmoving eyes staring up into the gray sky.
My gravestone will read “Here lies Ada, future Empress of all, stolen by fate before the crown could touch her brow, leaving the King to reign in mourning for the rest of his days.”
Charles would never marry another, of course. He’d build abbeys and castles in my honor, ensuring the memory of the greatest almost-Queen-of-Vranquia would stay alive forcenturies to come.
I sigh.
Dying a tragic death mightalmostbe worth it.
Unfortunately, one can rarely plan ahead for such a thing, unless one has a death wish. Which I do not.
Behind me, a maid enters the room.
She looks barely older than me, and yet there is a gap between us that neither of us could ever cross.
“M’lady, the King has sent a present.”
She hands my mother a small velvet pouch and bows ever so slightly before retreating to the back of the room.
“A present.” My mother is practically floating. I hate it when her voice sounds all factitious. I wonder who she is playing the role of doting mother-in-law for. If she is trying to convince herself, or me, that this union will bring anything more than sorrow. To an outsider, she might seem like the headless Countess, drawn in by the promise of power and influence. But I know her. I can see the tightness in her shoulders, the sorrow in her eyes when she thinks I am not looking, and I notice the tilt of her mouth every time someone mentions the King.
“Love, hand me your veil and let’s sit down for a moment. Let’s see what the King has gifted you.”
I step down from the pedestal, my legs stiff from standing upright for nearly two hours. My slippers are too tight, and the embroidered flowers on the bodice keep digging painfully into my side.
The seamstress ignored my complaints.
“That is precisely why we are putting the dress on now. By the time the ceremony commences, your feet and skin will have gotten used to the fit,” she had simply exclaimed and thenvanished. As if my body would simply adjust to the clothing, skin and bones melding themselves to fit the dress.
I carefully walk over to the sofa, pins and needles spreading through my feet at the renewed blood flow.
“Thank you, Mother. Would you be so kind as to hand me the pouch?” I ask.
My mother hands me the King’s present, her hawk eyes taking in the contents of the bag.
A letter and a ring.
My dear Fastrada,
It fills me with joy to celebrate the union of our families on this day. Take this gift from me as a symbol of my devotion to the peace of our nation and my attachment to you. I will be looking forward to getting to know you.
Charles
Hmm.
