Prince Leif could not have imagined that the Princess of Aradanas would be kidnapped at her own ball, but that's exactly what happened.
Without question of his own safety, Leif and three other prospective suitors, dive blindly into a rescue missio...
THREE wooden busts, draped in the most exquisite gowns and masks surround her room. She picked up a mask and held it to her face. The stab of pain at the sight of her burnt hand in the mirror reminded her that she had gone through these preparations once before.
This night wouldn't end the way the last one had, that much she knew. There were no threats to the kingdom, and Leif was dead. If he made an appearance at the ball, there would be many court ladies needing to be peeled off the floor. She had half a mind to resurrect him, just to see it.
It had been difficult to let him go; he'd been such a large part of her life, and she felt incomplete without him. But she'd decided it was time to let him go; she wasn't going to hide that half of herself anymore. She'd been returned to Aradanas severely injured, as Leif, to avoid the kingdom fretting over her. Stories had spread around the kingdom that Prince Leif of Leressea had died in battle, and the Princess had sequestered herself in grief for her lover.
She'd shocked the court when she emerged, scarred and no longer worthy of being adored for her beauty. But her scars were easy enough to hide under fabric and new stories travelled the lands. The Princess of Aradanas had been the one to defeat the Nagori, and bore the mark of its corrupt touch.
She was painted a hero, devoted to the land she was born to bleed for. It hadn't been difficult, then, for her to challenge the notion that her husband would rule. No one was willing to stand against the Princess who survived the Nagori.
The change trickled down to the announcement of the ball, now open to any noble-born man between nineteen to thirty-five years. If her husband would not be ruling the kingdom, he needn't be prince or lord. Leyva certainly appreciated not having to choose from the previous year's pool, some of whom surpassed her father's years.
This time, Leyva would smile, dance, and enjoy herself, and at the end of it she would choose her betrothed. It was tradition after all. None of the suitors mattered much to her, though. The one man she wanted—the one she loved in her dreams—would not be there.
Taking a shaky breath, she put aside the image of his face and turned to greet her Lady as the door opened.
"Forgive me the intrusion, Princess."
The mask in Leyva's hand dropped to the floor and shattered; a shame really, as it had been her favourite.
"Fee!" Leyva clutched her friend tearfully.
"Leyva! I've missed you."
"Not as much as I've missed you, Fee."
"Not possible." Freesia shook her head, a happy tear or two slipping onto her face.
"Remember, you have a husband to occupy yourself with now. And... a little Tave soon!" Leyva gasped seeing Freesia's round midsection. "Fee, why didn't you tell me in your last correspondence?"
Freesia laughed and directed Leyva to the mirrors, "I wanted to surprise you with it. Now, my Princess, let's get you ready!"
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