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CHAPTER ONE

BELLE

T he carriage lurched again, jostling me against the hard, embroidered seat. I clenched the fabric of the wedding gown tighter in my hands. I smoothed over a small wrinkle that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The golden silk shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the carriage windows. The threads of embroidery glistened like citrine spun by a crystal scarab. It was perfect.

I had made sure of that. I showed off my gods-given talent in every stitch. Every bead was a testament to my skill, to the hours I had spent hunched over my creation, my hands cramping but my heart full of determination. This gown was more than an offering. It was my chance to be seen.

Except it was missing something.

More beading on the bodice? No, that would weigh on the bustline and give the Solmane elite a show they weren't paying for.

A longer train, more dramatic and sweeping? No, that would distract from the intricate details of the embroidery.

Another bump in the road sent the dress shifting. The uneven path on the road to Solmane threatened to undo everything I’d worked for. I clutched the bodice to my chest, then raised my knees where the gown draped down to ensure the train wouldn't touch the carriage floor.

"We could've taken the portal, Mother. It would've been faster."

"We are not peasants, Charlotte. We are royalty. We have no need for speed."

The air in the carriage was heavy with the sweetness of lilac, a cloying scent radiating from the Fairy Queen across from me. Her skin, pale as a lily’s petal, glowed faintly in the shadowed interior. She sat with perfect poise, her hands folded primly in her lap. The hyacinth blood in her veins made her appear regal, cool, and untouchable.

"We could let the pegasuses fly instead of walking on land like common steeds."

"If we flew, then we would not be seen."

"That makes no sense. We don't want to appear like peasants, but we want them to see us."

"Exactly. We are to be seen and heard, like any good little princess."

Seated next to me, Princess Charlotte slouched against the velvet cushions. Her blue eyes, sharp as shards of glass, gazed out the window in abject boredom and irritation. Her posture was a deliberate rebellion, her mud-caked boots propped casually out in front of her, almost touching her mother's pristine white gown. Her lavender skin was the same shade as mine, yet it seemed softer, somehow more delicate, as though the Verbena blood from her father gave her a kind of ethereal fragility I lacked. We even had the same hair color, a dark purple that was almost black. But her hair was a wild tangle of dark curls, framing her face like a halo of defiance.

She noticed me staring and smirked, dragging her boot across the carriage floor, leaving a faint smear of dirt. Her blue eyes caught on her wedding gown in my lap. “Relax, Belle. The Beast Prince won’t care if there’s a wrinkle in the gown. He’ll be too busy ripping it off me on our wedding night.”

“Enough, Charlotte.” Queen Indira snapped her lily-white fingers in a controlled gesture of disapproval. "You have been training for this since the day you were born."

“You know who else trains since the day they're born? Warriors in the Convergence Games. Except if they don't pass muster, they die. Lucky bastards."

"Watch your language. Your death would inconvenience both the Queen Lioness and the First Moon. Would you be so selfish?"

Charlotte's brows lifted as though she was debating it.

I fought to keep both my face and her wedding gown straight. I needed her to be the opposite of selfish. I needed her to put on this dress in two days’ time and get married in front of all the Houses of Lunaterra so that I could become the most sought-after dressmaker on the planet.

The wheels hit another rut, jarring us sharply. The tension inside the carriage snapped, fast and merciless, like the jaws of a Venus flytrap closing around an unsuspecting insect, its teeth locking shut with a finality that left no room for escape. Lucky bug.

I did agree with Charlotte on the mode of transportation. If Queen Indira would have just let the pegasuses unfurl their powerful wings and take to the sky, we'd be in the capital city already.

Since I was a common peasant, I didn't voice my opinion because I understood exactly what the queen was doing. This journey, like the wedding spectacle, was all about being seen. The Fairy Queen wanted all to see their wealth. Problem was, the coffers back home in Evergrove weren't dwindling; they were empty. I knew that because I had worked in a few high fae houses as a young sprout. Bank ledgers could lie, but the cutlery never did.

Most faekind were not fans of iron. To some it was an irritant, to others, it was lethal. In high fae houses that were falling on hard times, sterling silver would quietly give way to polished steel, then to tin, and finally to nothing at all. By the time I arrived at the Fairy Queen’s house two years ago, there wasn’t even a full set of any dishware left.

The fields outside the window blurred past. The vibrant greens and golds of the countryside glowed under the light of the two suns. The larger mother sun, Solara, cast her soft yellow light over everything. Lyra, the smaller sun, danced around her mother's halo, shining her red aura bright enough that even a fairy didn't dare look directly at her rays. Somewhere in that distant glow, the capital city of Pridehaven loomed.

“Charlotte, fix your dress. Your wings are showing. Do you want Her Lioness to think you're some flaming Ember Fae?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes again in a very un-princess-like manner. She straightened, taking care to tuck the tip of her purple wing back into her dress. Her blue gaze flicked to me, and she rolled her eyes in the opposite direction in a bid for female solidarity.

I looked down at the wedding gown. I couldn't afford to side with her. I had to agree with her mother if I wanted the fairy princess in my creation, walking down that aisle for all to see. I couldn't even sympathize about the groom. He was a prince, for suns' sake.

Sure, he was called the Beast Prince. Sure, there were rumors of women fainting at the sight of him. I had never seen him myself. There were no images captured of his actual likeness in the fashion and gossip zines. Just monstrous caricatures of a snaggle-toothed, dark-horned, furry creature.

He'd been betrothed to the fairy princess since her birth, but he'd never once set foot in Evergrove to show himself. I wasn't sure if that was a kind mercy to Charlotte or an omen of what was to come. Most royal portraits in the history books did not depict attractive faces. How could they, with all the inbreeding over the centuries? At least the royals of Solmane were reaching across the vines for a Faekind.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, jolting me forward and pulling me from my thoughts. Outside, the muffled sounds of guards moving into position broke the stillness, their boots crunching against the gravel. The door swung open, letting in a burst of sunlight. A thin man with a sharp, angular face stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“Greetings, Your Royal Highnesses. I am Colson, chamberlain of Pridehaven Palace. Prince Adom has charged me with escorting you to the Summer Castle.”

"The Summer Castle? We were told to arrive at Pridehaven Palace."

"Yes, Highness. However, the prince is waiting inside the Summer Castle, which is just down this road. He wishes to greet his bride in private before entering the palace grounds.”

In the distance, a dull white castle loomed. The walls surrounding the structure were cracked and weathered, streaked with the stains of time and neglect. Ivy crept unchecked over the battlements, its green tendrils a contrast against the lifeless stone. The windows, framed in faded arches, appeared dark and vacant, like empty eyes gazing over the surrounding landscape. The castle lacked the splendor of royalty, its tired facade speaking of years without care or use.

The Fairy Queen turned sharply to Colson, her lips pressed into a thin, unamused line. "Princess Charlotte would be delighted to have a rendezvous with her betrothed."

A flash of fear crossed Charlotte's face, quick as lightning but unmistakable. Instinctively, I reached for her hand, hoping to offer her some reassurance. Her fingers met mine in a grip so tight it sent a jolt through my arm. She might be a delicate princess, but she was strong. Hopefully, that would serve her in her new life as queen.

Colson gave a polite bow. The door to the carriage shut, and we were moving again. The moment we were out of hearing distance from the chamberlain, the queen turned to me and hissed, “Fix her. Now.”

I untangled my fingers from Charlotte's and did what I was told. My hands went first to Charlotte's boots. The mud moved away from the leather of her shoes and slipped between the cracks of the carriage door.

Next was her dress. With a rotation of my wrist, I pulled the dirt from the hem of her sullied dress. The brown spots did as I bade them and dissipated into the air.

Her hair was going to be a challenge. I cracked my knuckles in a very unladylike gesture before flexing my fingers. Her tangled curls fought back, but they were no match for my magic. By the time the carriage pulled up to the white castle, Princess Charlotte was in presentable form.

The queen didn't even offer a thank you. She nodded at me like my magic was her due. In a way, it was. One solar ago, she'd caught me helping Charlotte clean off dirt from a gown before dinner. For my troubles, I'd been promoted from serving maid to a chamber maid. When the queen next caught me helping the princess mend a torn hem with my bare hands, I'd been promoted once more to the royal seamstress. The pay was nonexistent, but the perks, namely coming to the capitol with a dress I made that would be on display, were life-changingly priceless.

"Do something with the nails and makeup. The prince likes red." With that, Queen Indira descended from the carriage in a flurry of silk and lilies. She barked orders at the guards to rest and water the pegasuses, leaving me and Charlotte alone on the front grounds of the castle.

I turned to Charlotte. Her normally mischievous features had paled. Her blue eyes were wide and unfocused as she stared past me. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, she whispered, more to herself than to me, “I can’t do this.”

“I can give you a quick manicure."

Charlotte reached for the door on the other side of the carriage. The queen was already disappearing into the castle's darkened doors. The ever-present Skykeeper guards that were always lurking around her had moved toward the servants’ entrance. Relief in their sagging shoulders, as though glad to finally set down this charge now that the package was safely delivered to its new owner.

Charlotte was walking in the opposite direction toward the stone walls that surrounded the castle. The doors to the outside world were already closed. No one manned the massive battlements to reopen it.

"I can't do it, Belle. I won't."

For the first time since I'd known the fairy princess, I saw the cracks beneath her defiance—the desperation, the fear. I didn’t know what to say. I stepped out of the carriage. But then turned back and grabbed for the wedding dress. The guards would return to stable this carriage while we went inside, and I refused to be parted from my ticket out of Evergrove. When I turned back around, Charlotte was yards away from me. I had to run to reach her.

"I can't marry that beast."

"I'm sure the rumors are an exaggeration. He's the son of a lioness. So he might have a big nose and sharp teeth. It's not like he's a troll."

Charlotte wasn't listening to me. She was eying the wall. The dainty fairy princess gathered the edges of her skirt. Her boots struck the wall with sharp, frantic sounds, recapturing more dirt than I'd just cleaned off. Her hands reached for the lattice as though it were salvation.

“Your Highness… Charlotte, stop!”

She did not stop. Her fingers clutched the tangled vines, and she began to climb. I took a step forward, but the gown slipped. I couldn’t let it touch the ground. I couldn’t let it wrinkle. I couldn’t —

A flash of steel caught my eyes. The steel was strapped to Charlotte's upper thigh. The fairy princess' quite muscular upper thigh was exposed to the sunlight for all to see as she threw one strong leg over the wall, followed by the other.

I didn't know what bothered me most. The fact that the fairy princess had a dagger strapped to her thigh or the fact that there was no one around to help me as she hitched that exposed leg with the dagger over the wall.

“Charlotte, please!”

Charlotte looked down at me. Her arms were the only things holding her up. It was the first time I'd noticed the tone there on her biceps. I did manual labor every day of my life, and I didn't have that kind of muscle.

"I don't want this life, Belle." And then she was gone.

I stood there, frozen, my hands clutching the gown like a lifeline. The air felt too still, too heavy. My thoughts raced, but they all circled back to the same singular truth.

Charlotte was gone.

There would be no wedding.

And no one would see my dress.