Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
It’s not the right time to ask. Even if it was, I’m too busy being escorted through the ball, greeting our company and accepting their congratulations.
The more people I talk to, the more determined I am to speak with my father on the details of those arrangements.
Perhaps the reason for the delay does not matter. Perhaps the only thing that matters is that I have waited. I have been an obedient princess. I’ve never tried to seek out princes my father had not approved of. I’ve never tried to seek out any men.
Should I have done so?
A duke with lands close to the castle asks for a dance, and I accept. He will be the first in a group of men selected by my father. He’s handsome, but he is even stiffer than my father during our dance, and talks only of the horses he’s recently bought. His dusted blond hair is pulled back from his face and wrapped in a bun at the nape of his neck. Apart from his locks, I don’t find him interesting.
The next man is similar. He has flawless manners and keeps up conversation as we dance, but it is nothing real. It’s not even flirtatious. There is no spark or sudden realization of want. And as the night progresses, my desire is simply lacking.
I’m not sure I wish to be wed at all.
As we make one turn, I catch a glimpse of a face on the balcony that surrounds the ballroom.
My heart speeds up. The man from my window?
But no—when we turn again, I look for him. The man I saw on the balcony is still there, but I cannot see his face. He is standing in the shadow of an alcove. I can only see the shape of a well-dressed man and the slight glint of his eyes.
The next time we turn, he’s gone.
My father could have reached out. He could have made an announcement. Now he finally decides to act? Now he says it is the year?
I don’t know what to think, but still I look for the man in the shadows.
The dance ends, and I gracefully accept another partner. This man is the same as the others. He is highborn and impeccably dressed, but he is distant. They’re only here because it is their duty to attend, I’m sure.
Here in the ballroom, surrounded by people who want to ooh and aah over my gown and my dancing but who never ask me what I want out of life, it occurs to me that my father is right.
Yes, this will probably be the year he makes arrangements for me to marry.
But it can also be the year I make arrangements for myself.
I’ve never really thought about defying him like this before.
Is it true defiance, though? My new partner spins me through the other couples. Dark formal outfits and gowns swirl past. Did all these people do exactly what their parents expected of them for their whole lives? Did they never even think of doing something for themselves?
A shadow on the balcony catches my eye again, but he disappears right away.
I could go after that shadow. If for no other reason than curiosity. Will he interest me, or will I find myself numb from mindless chatter?
If he turns out to be nothing, and no one, then I’ll simply return to the ball and dance and eat the small cakes and have a glass of champagne like nothing ever happened.
But if he turns out to be someone…
What would I do?
How far would I go? I’ve heard stories of sullied princesses and for a moment, in the arms of a man who has no idea that I think nothing of him, I imagine sullying myself. What gossip that would bring. A blush rises to my cheeks at the very thought. I have a friend who’s told me details… I rather enjoy her stories over the fairytales I used to love.
Thoughts that I have purposefully kept out of my mind flood in. What if I took my purity into my own hands? What if I gave it away to a man I chose only for me, not for the good of the kingdom or the approval of my father? Even if it was only one time before I was married, would that be enough to carry me through?
I don’t want to be married off, I realize.
Maybe I knew it before, but I didn’t let myself truly know it.
My dance partner kisses the back of my hand, his lips barely touching my knuckles. The crowd around us claps. I can feel a pair of eyes on me, and not ones that belong to the people at the edges of the ballroom. I can feel the gaze as if it’s coming from the balcony.
The gaze pulls to me. Shivers dance down my spine. Time slows until I can glance back, although I don’t see a damn soul watching me.