Chapter 3: The General and the Truth
There are bad ideas, and then there's serving tea laced with truth serum to a war hero who could snap me in half.
In my defense, I didn't plan on doing anything too dangerous today. I just wanted to make sure my father's so-called "eligible suitors" were honest. If that made me a terrible person, so be it.
It was noon now, and sunlight streamed through the crystal panes of the royal greenhouse. The room glittered with life—violet vines coiled around silver trellises, the air perfumed with jasmine and something faintly citrusy. Butterflies with translucent wings hovered lazily between glass orchids that shimmered like tiny stars.
The palace gardeners had clearly gone overboard again. The place looked less like a garden and more like a floral competition with no winner.
I stood in the center of it all, my reflection faintly visible in the curved glass. My gown was a soft shade of seafoam blue—light, airy, and scandalously free-flowing by this world's standards. The fabric fluttered gently with every movement, catching sunlight like ripples of water.
No corset. No twenty pounds of silk layered like armor. Just comfort.
A simple chain rested against my collarbone, the small sapphire pendant glowing faintly from its enchantment. My hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders, tied back with a single silver ribbon.
Behind me, Vaelory looked seconds away from fainting.
"Your Highness," she whispered, clutching her hands like she was trying to hold herself together. "Are you quite certain you wish to… appear like this before your suitor? Someone who could be your husband?"
"Like what?" I asked innocently, examining my nails.
"Like…" She gestured helplessly at my gown, her voice trembling. "Like you dressed yourself!"
I smirked. "Good. Let everyone know I did it."
"Your father will have my head," she muttered under her breath. "No corset… no train… and where are your bangles? Your diadem? Your—"
"I'm wearing earrings," I said, pointing to the tiny sapphire studs.
"They're invisible!" she wailed. "Only the demons dress like you are dressed."
I paused at that. "Demons?"
"Yes, demons—but they are not to be spoken about within these walls, so push the thought away. Let's get you—"
I patted her arm sympathetically, pushing the thought away for later, just like she said. "Relax, Vaelory. If this goes well, I won't be getting married anytime soon."
She sputtered, but I ignored her. It had been five years, and this woman was still not used to my antics.
Still, her words lingered longer than I expected. Demons, huh? Who'd have thought they existed in this world?
Just then, the doors at the far end creaked open, and the sound of bootsteps echoed through the greenhouse.
Ah. Showtime.
Enter my first suitor: General Draegorvynthalmar of House Voryndralvassilindrath the Second.
If arrogance had a smell, it would smell exactly like his cologne.
He was tall—because of course he was—with a chest puffed out like a peacock trying to prove something. Too bad peacocks were beautiful. This was… not.
His armor gleamed, polished to near blindness, and every movement jingled faintly from the number of medals and enchanted trinkets pinned to his uniform.
He had a square jaw that could probably slice bread, a mustache so thin it looked like he'd drawn it on in a hurry, and the kind of face that seemed permanently stuck in an expression that just screamed he was trying too hard.
His hair was greased into a perfect swirl that looked both stiff and shiny—like a buttered helmet.
When he saw me, he clicked his heels together so hard it startled one of the butterflies. "Your Highness," he said with a deep bow, voice booming enough to shake a few flower petals loose.
I smiled sweetly. "General Drae—Drae…gorvyn…thalmar?"
"Draegorvynthalmar," he corrected, beaming proudly.
"Right," I said. "That's what I said."
He didn't look convinced but didn't say anything.
We sat across from each other at a round table set with tea, pastries, and fruit. Everything was perfectly arranged, from the sugared petals to the golden teapot that gleamed in the light.
He picked up a pastry delicately between two thick fingers, then smiled—no, beamed—at me again. "Your Highness is more radiant than the morning sun."
Ah. A lovely compliment. Too bad I didn't believe it.
"Thank you, General," I said as I signaled the maids.
They poured the tea, and I pretended like I didn't know what was in the teapot as I watched the faint swirl of truth serum dissolve into his cup. "I imagine you say that to all your lovers."
He laughed. Loudly. Too loudly. I know I have a good sense of humor, but was it that good? Something about this man rubbed me the wrong way.
My eyebrow twitched.
I pushed the cup toward him with a pleasant smile. "You must be thirsty after your journey. Please, have some tea."
He nodded eagerly. "How gracious of you, Your Highness."
He lifted the cup and chugged the entire thing like a soldier downing ale after battle.
Excellent.
I watched him place the empty cup down, unaware that his fate had been sealed. The serum would take effect in less than a minute.
"So, General," I began, my voice calm and curious, "why don't we play a little game?"
"What kind of game?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
"Tell me honestly," I said, picking up a pastry. "Do you really want to be here? Do you want to marry me?"
He hesitated, confusion flickering across his face. Then the words spilled out like an unstoppable tide.
"I don't want to be here," he said flatly.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said I don't want to be here," he repeated, horror slowly dawning in his eyes.
Oh, this was already good.
He blinked rapidly, trying to stop himself, but the words kept flowing. "I'm not interested in you, Princess. And I never will be. You would not make a good wife."
Says the man with a mustache that didn't look like his.
The air in the greenhouse stilled.
Even the butterflies seemed to pause mid-flight.
Vaelory, standing behind me, made a small, strangled sound that might've been a gasp or a death rattle.
I tilted my head, intrigued. "Oh? Why is that?"
The general's eyes went wide as if he wanted to take it back—but the serum had him now. His mouth moved against his will.
"You are unbecoming of a woman," he blurted. "Even now, look at you. You are dressed like one of those slutty demons who are only good for sleeping around."
His eyes widened when the words slipped out, and he stood up. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, I don't know— I should take my leave."
But with a flick of my hand, the guards appeared, pinning him in place.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" Vaelory shrilled, looking seconds away from strangling the man herself while I was thoroughly entertained.
"Continue," I told him calmly.
He barreled on, his voice rising. "You flaunt yourself like you own the world, but you don't. You're a woman and should know your place—by your husband's side, listening to him."
"Even when he's wrong?" I asked.
"A man is hardly wrong," he said.
With each word, his eyes widened in fear and shock, realizing what this meant for him.
Oh, this was rich.
I leaned my chin on my hand. "And what would happen if we did get married, General?"
He froze, panic flickering in his eyes. "I—I'd whip you into shape."
"Whip?" I echoed, feigning innocence.
"I don't mean beat you—unless you asked for it," he blurted. "Then I'd oblige."
Vaelory made a faint choking noise behind me.
I smiled—the slow, dangerous kind that made the general visibly sweat. "General Draegorvynthalmar, this has been… enlightening."
I rose from my chair, smoothing the skirt of my gown.
He scrambled to his knees, panic etched across his face as tears poured down. "Your Highness, I didn't mean—"
"Oh, I'm sure you didn't."
"It just came out— I don't know what's happening!"
I turned halfway, my tone light, amused. "Tell me, General… was what you said the truth?"
He went pale. His mouth opened, and despite every ounce of resistance in his body, the truth serum dragged the answer from him.
"Yes."
Then, as realization hit, he slapped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide with horror. "I... I didn't mean to say that! What's happening to me?!"
Tears poured freely as he trembled. Vaelory, in righteous fury, dumped the remaining tea on him and hit him with the first thing her hands found.
"You do not deserve to be in Her Highness's presence, you... you vile—"
"Oh, shut up," he snapped. "Can't you see I'm trying to put on an act to make the princess forgive me?"
Vaelory froze. I did too. Then she screeched in fury, signaling a guard, who unsheathed his sword just as the general's mustache peeled off. His perfectly gelled hair lost its shape, and a pimple shone on his sweating face.
Turns out the general was uglier than I thought—inside and out.
Round one, done, I thought to myself as I made my way out of the garden.