I knew I was in trouble the minute I stepped into the room.

The first indication was when I approached the door to the Great Hall. The footman flung the door open dramatically and announced, “Her Royal Highness, the Crown Princess Jennica Allayne Kenetria Denyah of Calia.” What a mouthful. My formal title included the names of my two grandmothers and one of our ancestors—Allayne the Clever, who had saved the kingdom of Calia with her quick thinking against the Djinn of Krean. It was customary for royal children to have at least one name honoring an ancient ancestor, with the thought that the qualities that made that ruler so revered would be passed on to the namesake. While I loved hearing the legends surrounding Allayne the Clever, I doubted I would ever be called upon to save the kingdom like she did.

And why introduce me like that, when the only others dining were my parents?

Except it wasn’t just the three of us. There was another man present, who, along with my parents, stood when I entered. That was my second clue.

My father and mother were arrayed in their formal finery as well. In addition, my father, King Hendon of Calia, was positively dripping with the royal jewels. It was a constant source of amusement to the courtiers and the servants (or so Taryn told me) that the king liked to wear more jewelry than his wife, Queen Melandria. My mother only ever wore her simple gold wedding band; she hated fussing with other pieces of jewelry, and barely tolerated wearing her crown for official functions. In contrast, my father adored showing off his wealth and position. His fingers boasted a myriad of rings, and he often wore at least one, but usually several, gaudy adornments around his neck. Tonight I could see a deep red ruby at his throat, ostentatious even for him.

Once I reached the table, my father introduced me to the newcomer. “This is Prince Anders, of the kingdom of Rothschan. Prince Anders, may I present my daughter, Jennica.”

Prince Anders bowed over my hand, placing a delicate kiss on it. “You’re lovelier than I could have imagined, Princess,” he said. “You look beautiful in that dress. Of course, red is my favorite color.” The prince himself was resplendent in a deep red and gray tunic—the colors of Rothschan. Now my father’s insistence on choosing my dinner dress made sense.

Rothschan, to the west, was where my father was from. He didn’t talk much about his life before coming to Calia; all I knew was that his parents had died when he was young and he served for several years as a squire to a renowned knight who was stern, but fair. Shortly after my father was knighted, his master died in battle, and the newly knighted Sir Hendon left Rothschan to find his fortune.

“Thank you,” I stammered, unsure of how I should react. I looked at my parents. My father had a smug look on his face. My mother, however, looked worried.

Sign number three.

“No need for such formality,” my father declared. I gave him a dirty look, considering I was the one who had been forced into formality for this surprise meeting. My father handily ignored me and swept his arm across the table. “Shall we dine?”

We all sat. My father was in his usual spot at the head of the table. My mother was in her usual spot on the king’s left. I, however, had been unseated. Prince Anders was at the king’s right, which was my normal place at the table. It moved me down one seat and put the prince in between me and my father. The seating arrangement ensured that I would have to talk to the prince during the majority of the meal. I could still converse with my parents, but it would be potentially considered rude, since they weren’t directly next to or across from me and I would have to talk over our guest’s head to address them.

Clever, father. Very clever.

The first course appeared before us. I picked at the food on my plate, my appetite gone.

Putting my fork and knife down, I stared straight ahead, my eyes alighting on the swords hanging on the walls. Like the paintings, these also represented the rich history of Calia. Many of the swords had belonged to former kings and queens, with the Sword of the First King in a place of honor by the throne. It was mostly used for ceremonial purposes, although we hadn’t had a knighting or anything like that in a few years.

Prince Anders ate a few bites of his dinner, then sat back and looked at me squarely with piercing blue eyes.

“So, Princess, tell me of yourself,” Prince Anders said, pushing his blond hair back from his face.

“What would you like to know?” I asked, a bit shyly. He really was handsome, the kind of man Taryn and my other ladies-in-waiting would giggle about when they thought they were out of my earshot.

“Anything,” he said. “How do you fill your days? My two younger sisters are accomplished at dancing and embroidery.”

“I learn those things as well,” I said. “But my favorite thing is magic study. My tutor says I’m quite proficient at it.”

Prince Anders made a choking sound. I thought he was trying to stifle a laugh, and I relaxed, thinking I had found a kindred spirit. Over the table, my father glared at me and shook his head ever so slightly. I looked again at the prince. He wasn’t laughing. In fact, his gentle face had turned stormy.

“As Rothschan is a land of military might, not magic, we do not trust something so illogical and esoteric,” Prince Anders declared. “I understand Calians are born with this ‘gift’—if it could even be thought of as such. Personally, I don’t think anything so unnatural could be a good thing. It is abhorrent, and not an acceptable thing for a princess to learn.”

I gasped at the insult. My father rushed in to smooth things over.

“I completely agree, Prince Anders,” he said. “After twenty years in this kingdom, it’s refreshing to hear such truth spoken. I’ve often despaired at being a good ruler when my heart disagrees with something the people consider inherent to their happiness. But you are right. It is a disgusting, unbecoming custom here in Calia. That is why Jennica will no longer be studying such things. I have already dismissed her magic tutor. I will have her magic books burned tonight.”

I gasped again, this time at Father. Studying magic was the one thing, of all my lessons, that I actually enjoyed and excelled in. While my father wasn’t indulgent of me, he had never interfered in most aspects of my upbringing.

Until now.

“But, Father, why—”

My father cut me off. “A girl—no, a woman—of nineteen hardly needs something as repulsive as magic. It’s about time you represented your station well.”

“But—”

“Don’t fret,” Prince Anders interrupted smoothly. “When you’re my wife, you won’t need such frivolities to amuse yourself.”

“What?” I recoiled from the prince. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s all set,” my father informed me. “It will be a perfect political alliance.”

“Rothschan looks forward to uniting with Calia,” Prince Anders said, inclining his head toward my father.

My mother’s eyes flashed between worried and sad.

“I can’t believe this!” I cried. “No one told me any of this! When is this to happen?” I looked at my father, who had that smug look from earlier back on his face.

But instead of my father, it was the oily voice of Prince Anders that answered me.

“Soon, Princess. In one month’s time, you shall be my bride.”

***

I spent a miserable hour crying. I didn’t think there were any tears left in my body. But all I had to think about was the prospect of marrying Prince Anders, and I’d start all over again. My eyes were puffy and my head was fuzzy, but I couldn’t stop. My bed was a rumpled mess, a testament to the fact that I had tried to muffle the sounds of my crying.

After Prince Anders had announced our upcoming wedding, Father had taken one look at my face and dismissed me from dinner immediately. He couched it under the guise of, My dear, you look unwell, perhaps you should lie down. But I’m sure he was worried I would embarrass him, or worse, somehow threaten his pact with the prince. I was glad to get away, even though escaping from dinner didn’t mean I was escaping my fate.

A tentative knock sounded at my chamber door.

“Come in,” I said thickly, sitting up. I needed a handkerchief badly, but instead had mopped my eyes and face on my dress. My red dress. The dress that was, “of course,” the prince’s favorite color.

How could I have been so stupid? I walked right into that trap.

The door opened, and Taryn entered with a tray carrying a cup and a pitcher of water. She closed the door carefully behind her, then set the tray down and filled the cup with water. Handing it to me, she studied me carefully as I drank the whole thing without stopping.

“Thank you, Taryn,” I sniffled. I put the glass on the bedside table.

Taryn sank down in a nearby chair, across from me still sprawled on the bed. Intensity radiated from her, in a way I had never seen from her before. She opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind about whatever she had been about to say. “If I may, Your Highness…” she started.

“Please, speak frankly, Taryn. You know you can always be honest with me.”

“How do you feel about marrying the prince?”

I fought the tears that threatened to come back. “I don’t know what happened! Father and I have had our differences, but I never thought he would just marry me off without even discussing it with me first.”

“But do you want to marry Prince Anders?”

“No,” I said readily. “I don’t know him, but the little I learned of him tonight seems horrible. A life without magic! I couldn’t give it up.”

Taryn nodded, as if what I was saying was the correct answer. She stood up and extended her hand to me. “Come, Your Highness.”

“Where are we going?”

“We are going to see Queen Melandria.”

“Now? It’s getting late, I don’t want to disturb Mother.”

“You won’t be. She told me to bring you to her tonight, as soon as you were ready.” She grimaced at my tear-streaked face and messy dress. “I honestly wasn’t sure how long that would be.”

I sniffled, laughing through my tears, and got up from the bed. I walked over to my chamber door, but Taryn put her hand over mine on the handle before I could open the heavy wooden door. She quickly shook her head at me.

“Taryn, what—”

She held her hand up, stopping me from saying more. Easing the door open slowly, she poked her head out in the hallway. All was quiet. She slipped into the hallway, opening the door a little wider so I could follow. We crept the few feet to my mother’s apartments, Taryn looking around furtively, me looking at her curiously. Taryn lightly tapped on the queen’s door and then opened it, ushering me inside. My mother, who had been sitting by her fireplace, stood when I entered. Mother’s eyes met Taryn’s; the queen nodded, and Taryn dipped her head in response. She left, shutting the door quietly but firmly behind me.