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Even though she was going to hate the headache she would have to deal with tomorrow morning, she would endure it. Soon, all of the headaches, training, and waiting would be worth it. For every time Kallie used her gift, the princess of Ardentol was reminded thatshewas favored by Sabina, the goddess of passion and manipulation.
Chapter2
Kallie staredat herself in the mirror while two handmaids fussed with her hair as they ensured each strand stayed in its proper place.
When they were finished, two small braids pulled her dark chocolate hair back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. A crown with three spikes embedded with glistening diamonds and pearls sat atop her head. The dress she wore hugged the contours of her body while maintaining a sense of modesty. The bodice of her gown was made of a nearly invisible fabric that contained thousands of white gemstones which then trailed down her sleeves, forming a beautiful floral design. The skirt, which was covered with yet more diamonds and delicate embroidery, puffed out at her waist and cascaded to the floor, covering her crystal-encrusted heels.
The dress, the tiara, the shoes—each item was strategically designed to make Kallie appear as the king's most prized possession. The brightest diamond in his safe.
She would not go unnoticed at today's festivities, which was entirely the point, she supposed. Today Kallie would decide whom of the many suitors the king had invited from all over Vaneria she would marry. Her suitors would present themselves and their offerings to her during the ceremony, then they would continue to try to romance her during the ball that followed.
In the eyes of the people, the marriage would seem like a standard alliance; however, Kallie knew it ran much deeper than that for the king. This was the first step in King Domitius' plan to gain control over the seven kingdoms and take revenge against the kingdoms that betrayed Ardentol a century ago.
Kallie rubbed her throbbing temple. The aftermath of her gift and the day’s pressure weighed heavily on her head.
"I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes right now," Myra, Kallie's favorite handmaiden and closet friend, said as she tidied up the vanity.
Kallie sighed. "Feet bound to blister by the end of the night, lungs caged by ribbons, and head heavy. Does that help paint a picture for you?" While Kallie admired all of her dresses, they were always a little too tight and constricting for her liking.
Myra swatted the air as though she was batting Kallie's sass away. "So many suitors to choose from, so many men and women begging for your hand. I don't know how you will choose."
Kallie chuckled. Myra was in love with love, while Kallie, on the other hand, could not care less about finding a suitor or getting married. Kallie had tasted only a small ounce of freedom in her twenty years, so finding a husband had never been a priority. Between the training sessions, the lessons, and the duties of the king's only child, she rarely had the time for something as fickle and destructive as love. Nor did she care to. If it was up to Kallie, she wouldn't be getting married at all.
Until of course, the king told her his plan.
While Kallie was reluctant at first, the king had explained how a marriage between Kallie and another kingdom would benefit Ardentol. The marriage wouldn’t have to be about love, it wouldn't even have to last long. It was simply a political maneuver. So, Kallie was quick to come to terms with the arrangement.
She did not want a marriage built on love. She did not need love to be happy or feel fulfilled. She had room for only two things in her heart: her kingdom and her family. The two things she would do anything to protect. She would lie, manipulate, and kill anyone if it was for the betterment of her father and kingdom.
So Kallie knew all too well that love, even forced or fake love, was a powerful tool.
However, if Myra knew the truth behind her marriage, her friend would be appalled.
In the mirror, Kallie met Myra's soft hazel eyes and offered her a small smile. Her friend saw right through it.
Myra's hand fell on her shoulder. "Kallie, what's wrong?"
Kallie looked at her handmaiden who was more like a sister to her. Kallie hated lying to her, but there was no other way around it. "It's nothing for you to fret about."
Myra tilted her head in the mirror and rose a hand to her hip. "Kallie," she said, her tone light yet persistent.
Kallie sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "Days like today—it's hard not to think about her, Mys."
Silence clouded the air between them. When her friend spoke, her voice was quiet. "Oh, Kallie. I have no doubt your mother would be proud of you."
Without Kallie even saying the reason, Myra knew. Because of course she did. Myra always knew. And Kallie tried to force a smile upon her face, but her mouth quivered and the crown dug deeper into her head.She did not know much about her late mother since the king prohibited anyone from discussing her. His love for her mother had made the loss of her paralyzing—the pain so great that he had never spoken her name aloud and had prohibited anyone else from doing so in his presence.And as much as Kallie tried to understand his pain, she also wished he would talk to her. Perhaps if he discussed her mother, it would lessen the heartache.
Kallie could not help but think about the woman who gave birth to her on days when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. When she felt strange in her skin as if a part of her identity was foreign; its origin unknown.
Her ferocity, her stubbornness, those parts of her Kallie knew came from her father. However, when it came to appearances, Kallie and her father were vastly different. Where he had curly blonde hair, Kallie had a heap of brown hair that was easy to tangle, but fairly straight otherwise. The edges of his face were hard, sharp; hers, soft.
So, when she looked in the mirror, Kallie pretended as though she was looking at her mother's reflection. Sometimes she wondered if that was why her father could barely look at her at times.
There was one instance years ago when the king had let slip one detail about her mother. When Kallie was around seven, he had drunk too much whiskey after a meeting with his advisors. In his drunken stupor, he had told Kallie she had her mother's eyes. And like Kallie's, her mother's eyes shifted with the slightest change in her mood. The blue irises appeared darker when she was angry or frustrated, and lighter when she was happy or excited.
It seemed like a simple statement. One that shouldn't have made such an impact on Kallie. But he had never talked about her mother's appearance before, and the tears were quick to fill her eyes. She tried to cover it up, tried to shake it off in the hopes he would continue talking about the woman she knew little about. But when Kallie looked back at her father, he had fallen asleep at his desk, head slumped over a pile of ancient maps time had long since withered.
When Kallie was young, she had dreamed of a love that would be grand enough to break her heart if they were ever parted.A love that would shatter the world and shake the stars.A love that she would burn down the world to protect if it meant saving the person she could not live without. A person who could love the monstrous parts of her.
