Forbidden Crown

Chapter 1

"Your gown for tomorrow is in your bedchamber, Addelyn," my mother says, her voice light and breathy. "One of the servants put it there. Try it on after breakfast."

I blink and nod in her direction. "Yes, Mother."

Picking up my fork, I take a bite of the food in front of me: scrambled eggs. Not my favorite, but I am not going to complain in front of my parents. I fight back a yawn, not wishing to seem rude or bored. I'm not; I'm just tired.

To my right sits my mother and father. To my left is my younger brother Maxwell. I glance quickly over at him. His dark brown hair, the same shade as mine, is tousled, like he just woke up. Why my parents would let him look so unpresentable while I was asked to wear a dress, I don't know. I adjust the sleeves on my own clothes and shovel more eggs into my mouth.

"Addelyn, slow down," my mother instructs. A second later, she asks Maxwell to do the same.

We finish breakfast and are eventually dismissed from the table, after the servants clean up our plates. I kiss my mother and father's cheeks goodbye. I feel as though I am beginning to resemble them both more and more each day. I have my mother's curls, my father's dark brown hair, and my mother's green eyes. I am swiftly escorted from the dining room, passing guards lined in the long hallways, to my bedroom.

When I arrive, I see the gown hanging by the full-length mirror across the room. The Archibald-Rochester family does not do casual. The dress is a pale pink, with a full length skirt and high neckline and billowing sleeves. I'm guessing it was custom-made, in careful consideration for the ball.

The dress for tomorrow, for my first dance with Prince Harry. The man I'm supposedly engaged to, or whatever.

I sigh, taking off the clothes I was wearing this morning—a sky blue sundress—and work on getting the pink ball gown on.

I could get help, just like my mother suggested, but I'd rather do it myself. I may be a princess, but I'm not helpless. I don't need servants to dress me, feed me, bathe me . . .

Except I really am struggling with this gown. It's fancier than anything I usually wear, and that's saying something. I have my corset on, but I can't seem to tie anything behind my back, or button it either, for that matter.

I huff, annoyed, and spin in a circle. The skirt flares up, but barely. It's weighted and heavy so that it won't fly up.

My bedroom is fairly small according to the rest of the rooms in the castle. I feel safer in smaller spaces, for some strange reason. I have a bed, a desk, a closet, dressers. Large windows that let in natural light, curtains drawn back and overlooking the gardens below. The gardens are beautiful.

Okay, no, back to the dress. I stare into the full-length mirror. The girl who looks back at me seems tired, weary. I haven't been sleeping well. I can see the dark circles beneath my eyes, covered up with makeup. I notice my forced rigid posture, attempting to seem alert.

I guess I still can't get over the fact that my parents are having me marry a prince from Aderquile, for political purposes. I haven't even met him yet. That's for tomorrow, I suppose. I don't even know what he looks like. I always knew that my parents would be in charge of my love life, but I didn't know it would be so soon. I'm only eighteen. We're getting engaged now and married two years later. It's way too surreal and unfair for me to even try to comprehend.

Wrestling with the dress, I finally button the rest of the dress up and tie the ribbons tight around my waist. It's fitted perfectly to my waist and bust. Custom-made, like I assumed. It looks really nice, actually. Not just nice, but beautiful.