Page 18

18

“Not all suitors will make a solid match.”

A Seelie Guide To Matrimony

N ia sweeps into my room, a white box with black ribbon in one hand and a silver flower in the other. The box, she tosses on the bed and the flower she tucks into the vase with the first one Everett gave me. I wonder what he expects in return for the “gift.”

My cousin’s lips quirk as she stares down at me still lounging abed. “I should be mad at you, you know. You ditched me, which meant I had to spend the afternoon with Ivee bloody Lynch.”

“I’m sorry.”

She drops onto the mattress and starts to bounce with glee, her hair springing every which way. “You can make it up to me by telling me all about your date with Trevor. Spare no details. Did he bring you back to his cottage? Did you let him keep your records —if you know what I mean?”

“Stop waggling your eyebrows like that. You look ridiculous.”

“I’ll stop when you start talking.”

“There isn’t much to tell. I went to see Trevor, but he was busy working. Then my stomach started hurting so I came home and took a nap.”

Nia’s bouncing and waggling come to an abrupt stop. “I had to sit across from Ivee— Ivee , Kerris. The least you could do is have some sort of scandalous love affair with Ronan’s rival.”

If she wants scandal, perhaps I should tell her about meeting Everett, after all. Instead, I shrug. She has made her feelings on the Unseelie quite plain. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Kerris, dear!” my aunt calls from downstairs. “The prince is here to collect you!”

Collect me for what?

Oh, no …

I completely forgot that I agreed to accompany him to the castle today.

Nia launches off the bed, tripping over my discarded slippers on her way to the wardrobe. She flings open the doors and starts combing through my gowns. “What about this one?” She holds out the yellow one with the daisy corset.

How about none of them? “I don’t really want to go.”

“Tell me you’re joking. Kerris, you have been given an audience with the King and Queen of Willowhaven. That is not something you cancel at the last minute unless you’re dying.”

It’s not the king and queen I have an issue with. It’s their deceitful son. Not that I can tell Nia that because then she will ask who gave me the flowers and that would lead to a conversation about Everett and then an argument.

I’m too bloody tired to argue.

So I roll out of bed, prepared to bite my tongue until the day is through.

She withdraws a deep violet gown from the back. “What about this one? It looks very regal.”

It does look regal, but there’s only one problem. “Madame Ella made the skirt too long.”

Nia’s lips purse as she holds the dress up to her willowy frame. Sure enough, the dress is too long for my cousin as well. “That’s not like her. All the dresses Madame Ella has made for me have been perfect.”

“The last few gowns she sent have been the same.” There were a few in the mix that fit, but the others must’ve been meant for someone else.

“We can bring them back to her next week. Until then, you go brush your teeth and hair, and I’ll get my needle and thread.”

* * *

Ronan waits outside the cottage in a gilded carriage more opulent than any I’ve ever seen—even the wheels are golden. Once I’m settled, the driver cracks the whip and we’re off, rolling down the cobbled streets while passersby stop to gawk and point.

I hate every second of it.

Who needs a golden carriage? It’s utterly ridiculous, if you ask me. Surely there are better uses for one’s wealth than this.

Ronan’s hand falls to my knee with a reassuring squeeze, his smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I missed you yesterday.”

When I cross my legs, his hand slips off. “My stomach started hurting, so I went back home.”

“How are you feeling now?”

Like I don’t want to be here. “A little nervous, I suppose.” Although I’m not sure why. It’s not as if I plan on proposing to Ronan and need his parents’ approval.

“Don’t worry. My parents are going to love you.”

We’ll see about that.

His smile tightens as he turns to face me fully. “But you might do me one small favor,” he says. “If they ask about your family, can you tell them your father is something respectable? Like an accountant?”

Something respectable? Is he joking? I can’t lie to the king and queen. All they have to do is ask anyone from Gravale to find out the truth. There must be awful consequences for sowing such falsehoods.

Besides, I’m proud of my father’s job. Raising goats might not be the most glamourous work, but my father is a good, honest man.

Ronan pats my knee once more as we roll to a stop at the base of the castle’s marble stairs, seeming unfazed by having asked this of me. Meanwhile, I feel as if I’m a piece of muck unfit to cling to the prince’s shiny boots.

All this time, I believed Ronan liked me for me, that he didn’t care about my father’s occupation.

I should’ve known better.

He has proven time and again that he is willing to lie about everything; why wouldn’t he lie about this?

“Ronan, this is a mistake?—”

The door opens and a servant in blue and gold livery appears, his hand extended toward me.

I can’t exactly tell him to take me back now, can I?

My stomach twists as I step out of the carriage.

Everything is fine.

It’s going to be fine.

I’m going to walk in, look around, and then put this place and this prince behind me.

* * *

Castle Rose is as lovely as its name, with rounded turrets and peaked, sky-blue roofs. According to Ronan, there are twenty-five bedrooms. Visitors range from foreign leaders and dignitaries to Ronan’s extended family—his mother has six siblings, all with multiple children. I can’t imagine having that many guests staying in my home with me and my family.

Not that it matters since I have no intention of marrying the prince.

Ronan leads me past the waiting servants into a spacious receiving room with black and white checkered tiles.

From the triple-height ceilings to the maze-like hallways, the palace is beautiful but also overwhelming. Servants bustle from one room to the next, while men in robes stroll past, so deep in conversation with one another that they barely notice us.

In the throne room, the King and Queen of Willowhaven sit atop a dais that overlooks a space so golden, I have to squint my eyes against the blinding brightness.

Ronan’s fingers squeeze mine as he brings me closer, and it takes everything in me to keep from yanking my hand from his. When we reach the bottom step, he bows, and I drop into a curtsy.

“Welcome, son,” a smooth, sweet voice greets. The queen smiles demurely from her throne. The prince clearly favors his mother, from the color of his hair and eyes, right down to the shape of their mouths.

His father’s features are harsher, his deep-set eyes the light brown of a wren’s wings and his hair matching his aubergine-colored waistcoat. The king says nothing but gives a tight nod of greeting.

Ronan sweeps a hand toward me, beaming. “Mother. Father. This is the woman I was telling you about. Kerris Dawn of Gravale. She is staying with her aunt and uncle in the city.”

My mother and father might have taught me manners, but they never prepared me for how to properly greet a king and queen. It feels silly to curtsy again, so I settle for dipping my chin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Your Majesties.”

“You were right, Ronan,” says the queen. “She is quite the rare beauty. Who is your mother, Kerris?”

My molars clamp together. Is my mother’s name respectable enough to share? “Celeste Hanson Dawn.”

The queen leans forward, bracing a velvet-clad elbow on her throne’s scrolled arm. “I believe I met your mother once. She and Madame Ella were good friends, no?”

“That’s what Madame Ella said, but I lost my mother when I was young, so I never had the chance to ask about life in Rosehill.”

“Pity.”

Pity that I lost her or that I didn’t get to ask her?

“What of your father?” the king asks, his tone intrigued as he stares down his nose at me, the golden crown on his head glittering with the morning sun streaming through the arched windows.

“He is thankfully still with us but chose to remain in Gravale.”

“But what does the man do?”

Ronan squeezes my fingers.

Tell them your father is something respectable…

My family might not have had much, but I was lucky enough to grow up in a home filled with laughter and love—for the first five years of my life, anyway. Although we all felt my mother’s loss acutely, we honored her memory by continuing to laugh whenever possible.

Standing in this room with its gilded ceiling and colorful tapestries, I feel so small, so insignificant, that I don’t want to answer at all.

Tell them your father is something respectable…

An accountant.

A foreign dignitary.

A king of a distant land.

Would Ronan think that is respectable enough? If he’s so ashamed of where I came from, why did he bother bringing me here at all?

Ronan might be ashamed, but I’m not.

“My father raises goats, Your Highness.”

The queen’s tittering laugh echoes, and she presses her fingers to her smirking lips.

Farming might not be the most glamorous position in society, but it is a vital one. Without people like my father, the castle kitchens would have no food to feed their royal mouths.

Ronan’s grip tightens as he pulls me tightly to his side. “What she means to say is that her father owns the largest farm in Gravale.”

That isn’t true, but what else did I expect?

“Impressive,” muses the king. “You couldn’t pay me enough money to work on a farm here in the valley, let alone on the side of a mountain.”

“Thank you, Sire. That is kind of you to say.”

The queen’s eyes narrow on her husband before her head swings back toward me. “What do you think of my son, Kerris Dawn?”

I think he is a liar. “Ronan has made me feel quite welcome in the city, and for that, I am truly in his debt.”

“I see. And do you plan on marrying him for his money or his throne?”

Ronan’s fingers dig into my palm, his jaw pulsing as he returns the queen’s glower. “Mother…”

“What?” The queen shrugs her slender shoulders. “It’s a simple question, is it not? The daughter of a goat farmer. Honestly, Ronan. It’s obvious the woman is only interested in what you can provide for her.”

The king sits up straighter, a flush creeping up his jaw. “That is quite enough, Majella.”

I don’t care that this woman is the queen of our kingdom. I have done nothing wrong, and she does not get to treat me like dirt simply because she believes I am some money-chasing fae with a thirst for power.

“To be honest, I see his crown as a barrier to a future together.” And I want nothing to do with it. “But to answer your question, if your son and I were to marry, it would be for neither his money nor his throne. It would be because I care for him and feel the two of us would make each other happy. That we make each other laugh.”

“A princess who laughs,” the queen scoffs. “Just what this castle needs.”

The king offers me the first genuine smile I’ve seen since I stepped into this room. “I believe you’re right. That is exactly what this castle needs.”

Ronan’s cheeks are as red as cherry pie filling, and I imagine mine probably match. If I had to live my eternity with this wretched woman looking over my shoulders, commenting on everything I said or did, I’d lose my mind.

No wonder Ronan built his own house. I wouldn’t want to live under her thumb either.

Finally, Ronan finds his words, asking his father for permission to show me the private gardens.

The king inclines his head. “Of course. Kerris, it was truly a pleasure to meet you. I do hope we will be seeing more of you here at the castle.”

While I appreciate the sentiment, I won’t be seeing either of them ever again. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” I bob a final curtsy, turn on my heel, and leave without another word.

Good riddance to this throne room.

Good riddance to this castle and everyone in it.

“Kerris? Kerris, wait up!”

I halt in the middle of the hallway.

Ronan skids to a halt, clutching the jeweled dagger swinging at his hip. “That was a disaster. Did you forget what I said about your father?”

Gone are the stars that have filled my eyes since I first arrived in Rosehill. This man may be a prince, but he is also a liar who would rather belittle me than build me up. I only hate that I wasted the last few weeks on him.

That ends today.

“Unlike you, I refuse to lie about who I really am.” He can find someone whose lineage won’t disgrace the crown and leave me to search for a husband whose family doesn’t despise me on principle alone.

“I never lied?—”

“I know the silver flowers didn’t come from you.”

He swipes his palms down his thighs, peering at me from beneath his lashes as a trickle of sweat races down his temple. “You’re right. They didn’t. When I saw them, I got so jealous that I lied. I’m sorry, Kerris, but you must understand that I’m not used to sharing a woman’s affections.”

This has nothing to do with sharing my affections.

Not only has Ronan Reve proven himself deceitful and untrustworthy, he also wants me to be someone I’m not.

“Allow me to make this easy for you then: I do not wish to marry you, Prince Ronan. Now, if you would kindly point me toward the exit, I would like to go home.”

I came to Rosehill in search of a mate, and it would seem all I’ve found is disappointment.