Cover art by JenPotato
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Prince Bright Guntithanon is betrothed to Dara Kittiyangkul. Well, sort of bethrothed. She has the option to dissolve the union. But Bright is handsome, char...
They were heavy and hot and I am sure as I melt under the hot summer sun, my cape is absorbing both my sweat and the mud underneath my feet.
A thousand complaints flit through my head but I hold on to none of them. Duty dictates I wear my royal attire upon first meeting my betrothed. There is not much I can do about that.
I wiggle a bit. Why does this have to be so skin tight?
I slowly exhale.
The heat was getting to me. Making me more emotional than I should be. This will be over soon. Then I can strip out of this ridiculous outfit and spend an hour under a cold shower.
Where was Dara anyway? What was taking so long?
I take a longing glance at the pitchers of iced tea, iced coffee, and chilled juices on the table just behind me. How much of a breech in protocol would it be if I drank before the woman of the house arrived? I tilt my head upwards and once again slowly exhale. I can wait.
I hear footsteps coming my way.
Finally!
I turn to face Dara, willing myself to smile my most dazzling smile.
Huh? My brows furrow. Was there some mistake? Did I need read the dossier correctly?
Was Dara a man?
That's definitely a man coming my way.
He was bounding down the garden path with a spring to his step and a twinkle in his eye. He had a boyish charm that made you forget he was tall - my guess is six feet. Maybe even a couple centimeters taller than six feet.
The dossier did get one thing correctly- he was beautiful.
Cheekbones as high as the heavens, a jawline that could probably cut steel, shoulders as wide as his waist was narrow. And that smile. Mine paled in comparison.
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I lick my lips involuntarily. Because I was so thirsty. Because of the heat of course. Of course.
He stops right in front of me.
A moment of silence passes between us.
"Absolutely ridiculous," he says, shaking his head.
Was he insulting me? Three seconds in and he's insulting a prince?
"I beg your pardon?"
"What are you wearing? What is this a fairytale?"
I bristle. Suddenly I am defensive of the royal attire I was cursing just a moment ago. "I am sure you are aware that this is the royal attire of the Kingdom."
"Yes but we're having brunch not waltzing in a ball."
He heads straight for the garden table and pops a cucumber sandwich in his mouth. He proceeds to pour himself a glass of iced coffee.
