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CHAPTER 1

The Stolen Bride

Iwoke to rain lashing my window panes. Outside, the sky was red on the horizon–a bad omen.

Still, it wouldn’t stop the festivities tonight. Another blighted ball.

I turned over in my bed and groaned into my pillow. Another day wasted with preparations. Another evening ruined by mindless pleasantries and idle gossip.

The summer social season lasted four long months, and my father, the ruler of our seaside kingdom, wouldn’t rest until I’d attended every single event.

To be more concise, he wouldn’t rest until I’d made an advantageous marriage. I shook the unwelcome thought from my mind and stared out at the familiar rain-soaked landscape.

I was no stranger to storms. I knew the sea’s lullaby–heavy, rolling waves and fierce winds. I’d heard lightning crack, felt thunder shake the ground, and watched ancient trees ripped from the earth.

When I was little, the storms frightened me. I would sit up in bed and cry while my fearless older sister jumped on our feather bed, telling me to hush.

Nonetheless, momma always came. She would bring a candle, gather us in her arms, and tell us stories of long ago. Stories of the fae who brought storms and stole brides.

I never thought I would become one of those stories.

That night, the air was filled with laughter and conversation. Men and women from all over our seaside kingdom gathered to dance and make meaningful connections—romantic and political.

The sound of their merriment traveled out of the crowded, stuffy ballroom, through the French doors, across the patio and the tower of champagne, and into the ancient grove of trees beyond.

I longed to follow it.

I longed for freedom.

It was a wicked thought. My mother was dead. My father, my sister, my kingdom–they all depended on me and my prospective marriage. I couldn’t let them down.

So, my younger sister, Magnolia, and I stood dutifully at the entrance of the ballroom, greeting our guests. The arrivals were becoming more spaced now.

Magnolia wiped a trickle of sweat from the back of her neck. "Do you think anyone would miss us if we went to the refreshment table?"

I looked up at the grand clock, its golden hands ticking in quiet synchronization. "It’s scarcely past seven. We should wait a few more minutes."

Magnolia’s lip poked out in a subtle pout that reminded me of when she was younger. "All of these people are late. Why should they receive a formal greeting?" she grumbled.

"Maggie," I admonished.

She gave me her best puppy dog eyes. "Georgia," she whined. "I know you don’t want to stand here any more than I do. It’s so humid I could float to the refreshment table."

I couldn’t help but smile. "You’re right. It’s dreadful, isn’t it?"

As we moved to abandon our post, a familiar voice drawled, "Why, Georgia, Magnolia!"

I turned and spotted Lady Catherine at the ballroom entry. Her gown’s hoop skirt protruded at least a foot on each side, and its silver brocade accented her graying hair. She waved merrily at my sister and I.

Was it too late to pretend I hadn’t seen her? Magnolia seemed to have the same thought because she kept walking. I gently grasped her wrist and tugged her back. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment.

Privately, Maggie called her Lady Cat because once she cornered you, there was no escape. Just like a cat with a mouse, she could happily torment you for hours.

"Hello, my darlings. I do apologize for being late," she said. "You know how hard it can be to get out the door."

Having stood in this doorway for nearly an hour, I imagined I knew it far better than her. I smiled nonetheless. "It’s no trouble. We’re pleased you could make it. You are well, I hope?"

"Oh, yes. Incredibly so. And your family?" she inquired, glancing around the ballroom, likely to take inventory of tonight’s guest list.