"Ah, I see. Well, whether you wanted it or not Adelheid, you would have wedded the King."
Lady Evelyn snapped her fingers and two maids quickly rushed forward, struggling to carry the weight of multiple trunks stacked with clothes and jewelries.
Adelheid's hands balled into fists. "Father's debt is what put me in this situation and you're still purchasing more?"
Lady Evelyn merely smiled at Adelheid, before walking towards her. Then with care, she gripped Adelheid's chin, tilting her face left, then right, as if inspecting a flawed piece of porcelain.
"We shall have to refine your features if you insist on wielding such a sharp tongue." She murmured. "No one tolerates an ugly girl with an unruly mouth."
Adelheid's face dropped.
Lady Evelyn's fingers suddenly wove into her hair, yanking her head back just enough to make her wince.
"To this day, I wonder where you got such a ghastly shade of red." Lady Evelyn mused, twirling a lock between her fingers before letting it drop as though it dirtied her hand. "Everyone in this family is dark-haired." She cast Adelheid's hair one last glance, expression reforming into a disdainful one. "Such a tasteless sight."
Stepping back, she smoothed out the folds of her gown. "We depart for an official meeting with the King tomorrow. Do not keep me waiting."
‡‡‡
That night, Adelheid couldn't sleep.
Not with her thoughts running wild and her throat parched like she'd swallowed ash.
She rose from bed, slipped on her robe, and headed downstairs for some water. But when she reached the bottom step, she froze.
In the dimly lit hallway, stood her stepfather— and across from him, a man dressed in a dark cloak—leaning on an aid stick like he had a bad leg.
The man's back was to her, but the moonlight bleeding in from the window cast silver across his dark hair. Their voices were low, and her stepfather's face was contorted into a deep frown.
"Father?" She called out.
The man with the stick stiffened immediately and her stepfather's head snapped up, brows furrowing. "Adelheid?"
The cloaked man quickly yanked his hood over his head and turned sharply—never once looking at her—before limping briskly out the front door.
Adelheid rushed down the stairs, clutching the goblet of water she'd meant to fill, eyes trailing after the stranger before snapping back to her stepfather.
"Who was that?" She asked.
Her stepfather clasped his hands behind his back. "Why are you wandering the manor at this hour?"
Seriously?
She ground her teeth. "I came for water." She held up the cup.
He gave a short nod. "Very well, then. I'll head to bed—your mother must be waiting."
"Father, you haven't answered my question."
Lord Edwin paused mid-step, still facing away. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Adelheid."
She blinked. "Sorry?"
"Yes, sorry."
He repeated, voice lower this time. "For condemning you and Russell to nothing more than ornamental tokens.. collateral to save a desperate man from drowning in his debts."
Adelheid's grip on the metal goblet tightened.
"Father, I am asking something el—"
"I had to take the money." Edwin continued, cutting her off. "Without the loan, we'd have starved. You'd have had no clothes for the royal ball. But now, the King, he has shown interest in you. That should make you happy."
Her jaw clenched. "You borrowed from the Langstons! The same vipers who bled you dry for damages you didn't cause. Isn't that just repeating the same mistake?"
She wasn't upset that he'd taken a loan. Not even that he'd offered her up as part of the deal. And she wasn't furious that she was being married off to a King—who likely had his own motives.
No.
What hurt her most was him–this man–the one she saw as a real father–had fallen short of her expectations.
She remembered when she first met him. She was five. Her mother had divorced her biological father and was to wed him. She'd been scared, but he had picked her up and spun her around, laughing.
"I want to travel the world, papa." She had told him. "I don't want to wed a lord who'll force me to sew old socks all day!"
And he had chuckled and hugged her tight. "Don't worry, my little princess. I'd never let anyone trade you off. Not while I'm alive and thinking straight!"
He'd lied to her gullible five year old self.
Edwin finally turned to face her, expression hardening. "But do not mistake my regret for weakness. I am the patriarch of this house. My word should not be questioned!"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Now get some rest. We leave for an official meeting with the King tomorrow. Your mother tells me you're being reluctant. Ha, as if marrying royalty was a punishment."
He scoffed. "A curse doesn't come with gold, dresses, servants and a giant castle. Do not be ungrateful."
"You do not understand."
He nodded. "And I do not wish to. Now go to bed. It's past midnight."
Adelheid stared at him for a while, her heart sinking. "You've changed."
Edwin sighed.
"Time changes everyone, Adel."
‡‡‡
The following day.
Beatrice hummed as she worked, her fingers fastening the last few ties on Adelheid's gown before reaching for the small jar of red pigment.
"Just a touch.." She said, dabbing the color onto Adelheid's lips carefully. When she was satisfied, she stepped back, hands on her hips and eyes twinkling. "There!"
Adelheid studied her reflection through the mirror in front of her. Her red hair was pulled up into a loose, messy bun with a few rebellious strands framing her face. The light peach gown she wore made her pale skin and hair stand out even more, accentuating her waist perfectly.
Beatrice let out a dreamy sigh. "You look so pretty, my lady!"
Adelheid's lips twitched. Only Beatrice thought so.
Beatrice moved forward, resting her hands lightly on the back of the chair Adelheid sat in. "I wonder what the King is like.." She mused. "I've never seen him up close."
Neither had Adelheid.
At the last ball—the first and only palace event she had ever attended—King Zamiel had sat far away on his throne—at least seven feet away from where she stood—when he had insulted her. The bright chandeliers shone too brightly over him, making it hard for her to see his face.
"I wonder if he's gentle.. or perhaps caring.." Beatrice continued, then hesitated, her expression dimming slightly. "Or what if he's the opposite? What if he's cruel? Vicious? Wicked? Probably one who take desire in doing ev—"
"Ahem."
Adelheid cleared her throat, meeting Beatrice's gaze through the mirror.
Beatrice straightened instantly, her eyes going wide. "Oh! I didn't mean to frighten you, my lady!" She quickly bowed her head in an apologetic gesture.
Adelheid sighed, offering a small nod. "I'm not frightened."
Oh, she was.
Everything about the King was wrapped in secrecy. Even his personality—his likes, his dislikes, the qualities that defined him—were a mystery. And Beatrice had a point. What if he indeed was cruel? What if she was walking straight into a nightmare?
No. Not today, dread. She shook her head and stood, smoothing out her gown. Turning to Beatrice, she forced a smile. "Let's go."
Together, they stepped out of the room, down the grand staircase and outside. The carriage waited at the bottom of the stone steps. Lady Evelyn was already inside, with Lord Edwin beside her.
Adelheid strode forward, climbing in without a word. Beatrice followed closely, settling beside her just as the wheels began to turn.
~~
The carriage finally reached the castle, rolling to a smooth stop in front of the towering building.
Adelheid stared out the window. The place was even grander than she remembered. Towers stretched high, their tips nearly touching the sky. Large windows drawn from roof to bottom and carved statues adorned with golden engravings standing proudly along the grand entrance.
"My lady?" Beatrice's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Aren't you coming down?"
Adelheid blinked, realizing she had been sitting motionless.
She nodded quickly. "Yes.. yes."
Taking a breath, she gathered her skirt and stepped down.
The moment her feet touched the stone pavement, a man dressed in a crisp black tailcoat with golden buttons and a high collar approached. His gloved hands clasped behind him, his posture stiff, very stiff.
A butler—she guessed.
"Welcome to the palace, my lady." The butler's eyes shifted over her before he stepped aside, voice flat.
She nodded and the butler led them towards the entrance, pushing open the heavy double doors—revealing a long, grand hallway.
Towering statues, plated in gold lined the passage, their polished surfaces shimmering across the knights' armor cross from it.
Their footsteps echoed as they followed the butler inside. Doors lined the walls, some closed, others left slightly ajar.
Finally, after what felt like an endless walk, they arrived at an entrance grander than the rest they had walked past. The butler pushed the doors and they were escorted into the royal waiting room.
Everyone settled down, and Adelheid fidgeted with her dress again, taking it all in.
A regular noble like her, sitting in the King's castle, waiting to speak to him about the engagement letter he'd sent.
It was.. groundbreaking.
She wondered how a conversation with him would go. Based on how coldly he'd dismissed her the last time, it'd probably be awkward.
Heavens. She already dreaded it.
Her fingers brushed the edge of her purse, squeezing the wrinkled paper tucked inside.
That letter.
The one the odd man had delivered.
She needed to ask about that too. Why had he written something like that?
How did he know how to write like that?
Before her thoughts could spiral further, the butler spoke. "His Majesty will be with you shortly. In the meantime.."
He lifted a letter, gaze sharp and expression impassive as he glanced over the names.
"Lord Edwin Montclair, Lady Evelyn Montclair, and—" He paused, and checked the parchment again. "And Lady Beatrice. Please follow me to the East Chamber."
Then his eyes cut to Adelheid.
"His Majesty would like to speak with Lady Adelheid here, alone."
Adelheid froze.
Alone?
Beatrice stood at once, indignant. "But sir, I am Lady Adelheid's companion. It is improper for a young woman to meet a man alone—especially one she isn't wed to."
The butler raised a brow. "Are you implying His Majesty intends to behave improperly?"
Beatrice's mouth fell open. "I—I didn't mean—"
Adelheid gave her a small nod, reassuring her. Even though she wasn't reassured in the slightest.
Being alone with the King was not part of her plan.
She had envisioned their meeting happening with her parents carrying the conversation while she loitered quietly in the corner, maybe pretending to be a sentient houseplant.
Her father trailed after the butler without complaint, her mother yanking Beatrice by the elbow and pulling her along—hissing something into her ear—no doubt preparing a full lecture on how to always remain shut.
Poor Beatrice.
Adelheid sighed and folded her arms on her gown, staring at the door.
Then, silence—long stretched silence.
She waited.
And waited.
But no King. No butler. Just silence.
Every now and then, her eyes flicked to the door, expecting someone, anyone, to walk in.
But nobody came.
Finally, with what felt like eternity and her patience snapped in half, Adelheid stood abruptly and smoothed the front of her gown.
If the King did not want to show up and explain his absurd proposal, fine. She'd find him herself.
Enough endless waiting.
Unfortunately, she wildly underestimated just how enormous and maze-like the castle was. After no more than fifteen steps and three wrong turns, she was officially lost.
And the deeper she wandered, the darker the halls became. The torches thinned out and the air became colder—no, freezing!
'Alright. This was far enough.'
Feeling nervous and very uneasy, Adelheid turned on her heel to quickly head back—but the moment she did—
BAM!
Her forehead smacked straight into something solid.
A chest.
She fell back with a surprised yelp, landing squarely on her butt.
Rubbing her sore forehead, she looked up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind— but her eyes, instead, widened in horror.
The color drained instantly from her face.
And a deafening scream tore from her throat.