A Crown of Forbidden Sin

1. Cora

Cora

It’s utterly ridiculous, but I bear through it.

It takes two maidens to lift my gown over my head. All the while I hold my breath and stay as still as I can.

“Do you have it?” Alice says from my right side.

“Give me a moment—” Blanche says from my left as she adjusts the heavy silk layers I’m currently trapped in. “There.”

A muted groan leaves me as they both tug at the same time and the gown slips into place.

Its weight mostly settles over my waist. I take my last truly deep breaths of the evening as Blanche moves behind me to do the laces and Alice steps in front of me to check that they haven’t disturbed my hair.

She reaches in without hesitation, adjusting the jewels around my neck, then handling each of my earrings in turn to make sure they’re not in any danger of coming loose.

“Beautiful,” Alice murmurs, but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at the gown, and the jewels, and the powder she carefully applied to my face an hour ago. Her eyes travel over me, assessing, and finally she meets my gaze. “You look even lovelier than last year, Princess Cora.”

Even with all the nerves rattling through me, I smile warmly at her out of habit, letting happiness I don’t fully feel come to my eyes. “All thanks to you.”

Alice blushes. She’s a few years older than I am and has been one of my keepers since I turned twelve. Even back then, she and Blanche treated me with deference, although sometimes I could convince them to tease and laugh with me.

“You are a true beauty, Princess,” she says softly and continues to fuss with my gown. Her own layered linen garment with her long-sleeved chemise in cream is complete with a beautiful burgundy apron. I’d trade places with her anytime she’d wish when it comes to our current dress.

The bodice gets tighter as Blanche ties up the laces. I know it’s not really constricting my breathing—all my garments are made to fit me, not to squeeze me into another person’s shape—but they feel tighter tonight. Heavier.

Maybe that’s because today I’m nineteen. I swallow my desperation with a gulp of air, wishing for this day to be over.

The memories of the last year suffocate me.

I had a touch of hope when turning eighteen, at least. Although the pain of my mother passing two years prior clung to me all evening. No matter how much I wished to shake it off.

I thought I’d meet a prince at the ball held in my honor and fall in love before the evening ended.

It’s not only my duty, but back then, as my father mourned and the kingdom looked to the event as a necessity to secure my hand in marriage, I was hopeful.

There would surely be someone who wished to treat me with the same love that my father had with my mother.

That didn’t happen. I wore a gown and shoved down my feelings for nothing.

All I could think as I attempted to sleep later that night was that my mother would not have missed the ball at all.

It’s nothing like she told me it would be.

Defeated and depressed, it was the start of realization that this life isn’t at all like the stories we’re told.

Not that I have it in me to complain. It’s just not the fairytale I thought it would be. Perhaps I was blinded all those years by my parent’s love, and with my mother’s passing, it all simply shattered. I’d held on to one hope and poof, it was gone with the evening’s end.

The guests allowed at the ball had mostly been my father’s age. I danced with man after man who held me at a polite distance. I ate sweets with a few highborn acquaintances. And I was tucked up in bed far before midnight, without ever having seen a prince to fall in love with.

Perhaps they would come to the castle and present themselves to my father after the ball, I thought.

Maybe it was a show of respect for my mother, the queen, who the kingdom still mourned.

Maybe no prince who knew of me wanted to trample on my father’s grief, though it had been two years, and surely it would only help him to know his daughter would be secure in marriage.

Alice moves to my side to adjust a lock of my hair, then steps away to retrieve the sapphire-and-diamond tiara I’ll wear to the ball.

I can see the side of Blanche’s face, her brow furrowed as she concentrates on the complicated top section of laces, but mostly, I see myself.

There have been subtle changes since I was eighteen, but I look nearly as young as I did then. My blue eyes are bright, and my cheeks are delicately pink with blush. The deep blue of my gown brings out my eyes even more, and Alice did a wonderful job with my light, sunny blonde hair.

Alice appears in the mirror next to me, lifting the tiara above my head. She places it precisely, so that its combs are hidden in my hair, which is half pulled back. Elegant waves brush my shoulders.

Last year, I wore all of it pulled back to announce that I was ready for marriage. This year, the three of us—Alice, Blanche, and I—decided to split the difference.

They both carefully avoided saying the true reason why.

It is because I didn’t have a single suitor over the past year. Not a single offer of courtship, let alone marriage.

“Perfect,” Alice pronounces. “And just in time for the ball.”

Alice saying I’m just in time is a little joke of hers. I’m too early for the ball, in fact, and can’t go down right away. I have to wait for notable guests to finish arriving.

There’s a window near my rooms that overlooks the front courtyard.

Carriages wait in a long line. The horses are beautiful as are the cabins.

Attendants carrying ornate torches line the wide steps leading up to the main entrance.

Men climb out of the carriages in dark, formal clothes and turn back to help ladies out.

My heart does a painful flip as I watch each of them. I can barely breathe and it’s not the damn corset.

Most of them appear to be my father’s regular approved guests.

But then one man climbs out, and his eyes flick up toward me. It’s so startling my grip slips on the sill.

Surely, he can’t see that I’m here. This window is in shadow, and there is too much light outside, but I take a quick step back before I can stop myself, my heart pounding.

He’s a prince I haven’t seen before, I think. I’m not educated in all the realms, but I’m certain I’ve not heard of a gentleman eligible to attend who mirrors his person. He’s handsome, his body lean, and his shoulders broad enough that the shirt strains under his jacket.

When I move to the window again, he is gone, and another carriage takes his place.

A spark of hope lights and although it’s dim, it’s there.

I wish it wouldn’t sit there, where the pain of the last years lies. And yet…

I enter the ballroom on my father’s arm. A herald announces me in a loud, ringing voice.

Father’s wearing his court attire for celebrations. With the black velvet details and gold embroidery, the wealth and power of the kingdom are reflected in his cloak, fashioned with the heirloom brooch.

“Princess Cora of Kingdom Thessaora, on her nineteenth birthday.”

Cora of Thessaora. It takes restraint for me not to mimic the herald’s announcement and to remain ladylike on the king’s arm.

Everyone turns toward us. Nerves prick at my neck and I do my best to plaster a polite smile on my face.

There’s a wave of bows and curtsies, then a second wave of applause.

I smile brightly at all of them, nodding my head in the way my mother taught me when I was younger.

The sound of the applause reminds me of how my heart beat when that prince seemed to see me in my window.

My heart races as I gaze out into the audience. Acknowledging them all in gratitude.

My father—the king—dances the first dance with me. The faces of the crowd swirl around us. Guests smile and clap and raise glasses of champagne to me. My gown is heavy, but I don’t let the weight show on my face.

They’re always smiling, but none of them want me.

I’ve been holding this thought at the back of my mind since the last ball that was held in my honor.

The truth is, most princesses would have had an offer before they turned eighteen. Other royal families would have offered, or maybe a confident duke.

Since that hasn’t happened, I can assume this is for one of two reasons: either my father has quietly made it known that he won’t consider any offers, or the rest of the world has decided that I’m undesirable.

Whether it’s the kingdom, or my appearance, or perhaps something else, I’m not certain.

The ball is a farce, and it will be held on my birthday for as long as I live.

The dance ends and my father bows to me. Then he draws me close and kisses my cheek.

“You are so like your mother,” he says, and his bright blue eyes shine with a happiness I haven’t seen in so long.

He means it as a compliment, but it’s not true.

I cannot possibly be so like her, because I don’t resemble her much at all.

“This year, Cora. This will be the year I make arrangements for you.”

He says it so sincerely that it takes me aback. “That’s… that’s…” I clear my throat and mind my manners. “Thank you, Father.”

He brushes another kiss to my forehead as my mind whirls. What did the tension in his voice mean? That he regrets waiting so long? That he thinks I have done something to cause this delay? The music is spritely and echoes off the walls as does the laughter of men and women celebrating.

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?