Page 1 of A Heart Too Tender

Long ago, there lived a prince destined for greatness. Prince August was the most beloved in all of Wimberley for his handsome face, crystalline blue eyes, and astonishing strength. Unfortunately, that was all anyone seemed to notice. Ladies and gentlemen alike would throw themselves at him and on the rare occurrence that he fancied them too, the romance would fizzle out disastrously. His partners didn’t realize the care and love that Prince August poured into his kingdom. They didn’t trouble themselves with learning about his duties, his need to help the less fortunate, or of ensuring there was enough food to go around.

All they cared about was his appearance—and theirs.

Defeated by the persistent loneliness, Prince August requested his parents’ help. His father, King Odo, could not care less about his son’s romantic troubles.

“Our arranged marriage has been beneficial to the kingdom,” he gestured to Queen Theodora, “we can seek bids from other kingdoms if that’s what you wish.”

King Odo stroked his long beard pondering these plans. His robes of burgundy velvet glimmered in the afternoon light that streamed through the many stained-glass windows of the throne room. His crown sat tilted on his head as if it had been thrown there haphazardly. Diamonds caught the light and sent tiny rainbows dazzling in the air.

But it was Prince August’s mother, Queen Theodora, who shook her head, pursing her full lips. The otherworldly glow around her seemed to flare. His mother was a great beauty, and was well respected for her kindness and wisdom.

“No, no. That won’t do. We need a witch—a powerful one.”

The king raised a white bushy eyebrow at his wife’s insistence. “Whatever do we need a witch for?”

“Our son is too handsome, and a prince! We have to make sure that whomever he marries is pure of heart and not a wench with her eyes set firmly on his looks and gold. This woman will be queen one day—the people, and our darling boy, deserve the best.”

King Odo considered her words for quite a long time before waving a bejeweled hand lazily. “I know better than to tell you no when it comes to your scheming. But make it quick. Heart’s Night is in a month’s time. If he is to be wed this season, it will be on that day, like all of Wimberley’s royals before him.”

Queen Theodora rose from her throne in a graceful flourish, her silver gown pooled at her feet like moonlight. “Let’s be off, then. It’s been ages since I’ve paid a visit to the Witch Mother.”

Their journey was a pleasant one through the sleeping forest and to the Witch Mother’s cottage. They passed rambling gnomes, whose tall hats dwarfed their small bodies and the tiny baskets they held filled with fruits and vegetables.

A flock of pixies with glasslike wings that tinkled with sounds akin to bells struggled to pick an apple, but Prince August, ever the gentleman, assisted them. Kisses blown from the wondrous creatures bobbed and floated like bubbles. He grinned at their display, nodding to bid them adieu.

Mid-journey, Queen Theodora and Prince August halted their stallions, allowing a horde of goblins and elven to pass. The goblins sang merrily, emerald dust covering them from head to toe.

Prince August loved his home. Loved the abundance of magic, the citizens of all shapes and kinds and species, the lush land, and the sparkling capital. But as they traveled on, the forest darkened. The trees became massive with antiquity and covered in gray moss that dripped like rain from their branches.

Theodora glanced sidelong at her only son. “No matter what happens here, you deserve to be loved for who you are on the inside.”

August nodded, but the change in his mother’s tone had him shifting in the saddle. “Should I be wary of the Witch Mother?”

“No, but you should give her the respect her title bears as you do with all others both below and above you.”

“I see. And how do you know the Witch Mother?” August asked.

“The Witch Mother was tasked with escorting me from Ania to Wimberley when I was to wed your father. She taught me about the people here, and their kind and accepting ways. Not every kingdom is such, as you well know.”

He knew it very well as many of his dalliances had been with princesses of neighboring kingdoms. Their vapid and selfish ways had soured his tongue to the name of love for quite some time.

“What are we asking the Witch Mother for exactly? I thought the witches had fallen far out of favor and were nearly extinct.”

His mother grimaced. “A spell perhaps—and a reading.”

August’s dark brows nearly hit his hairline. The ominous tone of her voice had him tugging at his high blue collar that pressed into his throat.

“A reading?” he asked with a healthy amount of anxiety.

“The witches should have never been treated as such. Silly superstitions. They are more than necessary to our realm and the magic in it. Besides, I would like to know if your true love is out there and if this will be worth the trouble.”

The prince scoffed. So pragmatic was his mother, and even though she adored her only son, she was above wasting time and being made a fool. Such was the way of a Queen.

The stone cottage appeared in the evening gloom. Silverstone sparkled and thick white smoke piped from the chimney. They dismounted, tying their black and white stallions off on a nearby tree. August took his mother’s hand, leading her through moss and ferns to the arched wooden door.

She looked like an outsider here, draped in fine jewelry and silver silk. He appeared much the same. A fine embroidered jacket of navy, a high-collared tunic, and tight tan breeches tucked into tall black boots that shined like onyx in the light.

His mother rapped twice on the door, and it opened on its own.