Page 9 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

Lenore

“ I f I have to take one more”—I jab my sword into a bale of hay with an X painted onto its front—“dance lesson”—I dig the tip into the firm bale, twisting it with all my might—“I will scream.” I’m out of breath in a way that insinuates I’m more out of shape than I realized considering I’m fighting a bundle of straw.

With the approaching ball to celebrate my engagement to the King of Honenbrie, my mother has been insistent on my relentless training in all areas she considers princess duties .

Dining etiquette, dancing, conversation, music, and even walking.

Walking . I’m made to don impossibly tight heels and walk up and down the hallway with a book on my head.

I swear if Lady Whittinsby smacks me on the back of the neck with that wooden rod of hers one more time, I’m going to use a perfectly balanced book to smash in her face.

“I feel sorry for whoever’s gotten on your bad side this time. Or are we still pretending it’s the King of Honenbrie? I could have one of the stable boys paint a face on there if it would suit you better.” Gestin strides toward me with a grin. He’s one of the only people I can stand right now.

“Everyone is on my bad side these days,” I grumble.

Before Gestin can say more, another voice cuts in. “Princess,” Melly calls to me from across the way. “Yer to take tea with guests.”

“Who?” I snap indignantly. I’m just getting into the flow of releasing my rage and still have enough in me to take on a hundred bales of hay.

“What makes ye think I’m privy to that information?” She folds her arms, arching the eyebrow on the unburned side of her face.

“Because you’re a nosy know-it-all who trades in gossip every minute I’m not around.”

Melly grins. “Alright then, I ’ear it’s a prince from some far-off kingdom. And if the chat around the kitchens is to be believed, he’s quite ’andsome.”

“Tea with a handsome prince. Lucky me,” I drawl.

“Ye’d better come inside. Don’t want ’im to mistake ye for some sweaty, stinking farm animal. Why ye choose to spend yer days out ’ere stabbing things instead of kicked back eating figs and drinking tea is beyond me.”

That makes me roll my eyes. Why is it everyone wants a life that’s different from their own?

Only stopping to envy the good. Ignoring the bad with the selective blindness that runs rampant through the human race.

My privilege will never cease to irritate me, and in being irritated, makes me more privileged still.

Ungrateful, certainly. But my gilded bars only allow outsiders glimpses into the realities of royalty.

“Any day now, yer royal slowness.” Melly perches her hands on her hips.

“I’m coming.” My muscles ache. A cup of tea and plate of freshly baked biscuits does sound appealing.

“Good day, Gestin.” I nod respectfully toward my friend.

“Good day, Princess. Enjoy your tea.” He smirks.

Melly helps me to bathe and dress, selecting a sea-blue gown that matches my former eye color with a cream-colored collar and wristlets. Staring in the mirror, so perfectly put-together, makes me ache for the outdoors.

“Aye, Princess. We all know ye would rather be covered in mud and trudging in the woods than corseted in this pristine castle. That face is going to end up in a permanent frown if yer not careful.” She takes my hands in hers.

“Life still ’as much to offer ye. Don’t let it strip ye of yer happiness while yer still free to be yourself. I don’t like seeing ye so un’appy.”

I suppose I have been living in the ever-softening lap of melancholy as of late. “You’re right. I need not live in misery so soon. I’m sure those years will be plenty and soon to come.”

“Right ye are. Now go dazzle a prince.” She whacks me on the ass and pushes me out the door.

Tea is well underway by the time I reach the greenhouse. The scents of fragrant flowers and fresh sweets have my senses swimming, my mouth watering. Our guest has his back to me, allowing my only knowledge of him to consist of brown hair and broad shoulders. My mother smiles upon my approach.

“There she is. Prince Cassius, may I introduce you to my daughter, Princess Lenore of Roseheart.”

Prince Cassius stands and turns, bowing his head in the customary fashion. “Princess.”

He rises, eyes meeting mine. Holy handsome .

Unusual tawny irises draw me in like a vivid sunrise.

There is something about his face that’s at once masculine and soft.

Skin the color of toasted sugar warms his roguish features.

A color that is not achievable during even the warmest summers here in Roseheart.

His velvety auburn hair glints copper as he inclines his head once more.

It falls to just above his eyelashes, maintaining a style that’s both clean cut and carefree.

Garb fashioned in the most brilliant of emerald greens complements his features in a way that should be unattainable for someone not fallen from the heavens or spirited up from the land of tricksters and demons.

He returns to his full height, forcing me to peer upward.

Dimples dot his cheeks as he flashes me a pearly smile.

He speaks into the space where I realize I’ve gone mute for far too long. “The tales of your beauty have reached all the way to my kingdom on the sea. It seems the right words have not yet been written into existence, for your loveliness far surpasses the murmurs spoken throughout the lands.”

His voice is rich and full of warmth. Something about the way he speaks reminds me of eating a honeycomb cake outdoors.

The way the melted honey drips down my wrists after that first bite.

The sticky golden syrup liquifying on a hot summer’s day.

If that sensation were bottled up into a man’s voice, this would be it.

I’m not even sure if that makes sense. Honey is silent.

Eating isn’t the same as speaking. Hot summer days.

Hot, hunky princes. Gods, even my thoughts are a blubbering mess.

He’s so hot that my brain has melted. He must be the most handsome man to ever walk these halls.

My mother clears her throat in a manner that can only look delicate coming from her. I’m staring. With my jaw open. Is that drool I feel on the corner of my mouth?

Heat creeps up my neck as I curtsy. “Your Highness, you are too kind.”

“Join us, dearest.” My mother can barely hide her knowing smile as she gestures for me to take the seat between herself and the prince. “Prince Cassius has come to offer trade to your father.”

Cassius sips from his tea. My eyes track the way his throat bobs as the steaming liquid passes down.

“Yes, I was already on my way when word of your nuptials reached me. A happy coincidence. My kingdom is so far that the news would likely have arrived too late to make it to the festivities. My congratulations, Princess. Honenbrie is a beautiful kingdom.”

“Your father has offered the prince a room here in the castle so that he may stay to attend your engagement ball.”

“Oh, how kind of him.” That means Prince Hunky will be here for at least a few weeks. I certainly won’t mind ogling him until my new husband arrives to whisk me away. Or limp me away. He’s so old .

“Indeed, the King of Roseheart is a gracious host.” My gaze is fixated on his mouth. His lips are slightly fuller than most men I’ve seen, making it impossible to look away when he speaks.

“Prince Cassius was just telling me about the trade from the Kingdom of Tessiah.” My mother is as starry-eyed as I am as she gazes upon the prince’s too-perfect face.

Tessiah. I recognize the name from my history lessons. The kingdom is set on an island far off the coast of the Roviana Sea. If I remember correctly, their borders have been closed for the last hundred years.

“Indeed. Our island is home to many unique jewels.” He unclasps the livery collar from across his chest, laying it on the table.

Pearls the color of spring violets dominate the ornate jewelry.

They’re surrounded by palm-sized, square-cut jewels with fiery orange edges and soft peach centers.

The rest of the collar is lined with an array of glittering pieces of some type of raw red stone.

The collective of jewels reminds me of a sunset over the ocean.

“They’re stunning,” I breathe, caught up in their glimmering beauty.

“This one”—he unfolds a silk cloth, revealing a necklace created from dozens of the violet pearls with one of the square-cut fire stones nestled right in the center—“is a gift for the princess.”

My eyes widen, meeting his. “For me?”

He smiles again, that full mouth beckoning me toward it. “For you. May I?” He lifts the necklace toward me.

I turn to my mother who nods her approval. With her permission, I incline my head. Cassius moves behind me and gently lays the necklace over my lace collar. My hand comes up to finger the stones. They’re cool beneath my touch.

“Beautiful,” Cassius murmurs, but he is not looking at the necklace. Again, warmth creeps up my neck and bathes my cheeks.

I find myself unusually quiet for the duration of our visit.

Munching on my breakfast and sipping my tea, I allow my mother to cast her wide net of questions toward our visitor.

As a silent observer, I’m able to analyze every detail about the Prince of Tessiah.

His looks are truly exotic. The desire to touch his skin, to see if it’s as warm as it is sun-kissed, has my fingers twitching in my lap.

The necklace sits upon my throat with a weight that my imagination continually twists, allowing me to picture his hands brushing along my neck and collarbones instead.

My gaze drops to his hands. They’re huge. What those fingers must be able to do…