Chapter 2
DAHLIA
I’m going to die tonight. Father will take one look at my dress from across the ballroom, and if he doesn’t murder me on the spot, Blossom certainly will.
My fingers brush the silky skirt. Red fabric spills down my legs like wine, while the bodice is low and tight enough that the minimal cleavage I have is on full display.
My hair looks good, too. After leaving the stables, I pushed it all up and styled it in twists around my tiara, leaving my shoulders bare and drawing attention to the black choker clasped around my neck.
I look gorgeous. Scandalous. If Father doesn’t kill me, at least the attention I’ll get will make this party more interesting.
“What in our divine realm are you wearing?”
I stop metres from the entrance to the ballroom. Camellia’s tall figure blocks the warm light of the chandeliers. The golden tones of her gown look pretty against her chestnut hair and olive skin, but those puffed sleeves…
“You look like you have three heads.” I grin.
“What?” She jerks back. “What are you talking about?”
“Your sleeves.” I glance at them. “They’re massive. Are you hiding your pointe shoes in there? Please tell me you are and that this whole party is just a big distraction so we can sneak out to our dance circle until morning.”
Aside from horses, ballet is my only other escape from the palace. While I’m dancing, I’m not thinking about politics, or fancy dinners, or whatever stuck-up prince Father will one day try to force my hand to.
But any hope of sneaking out is crushed after my perfect sister rolls her eyes.
“The sleeves were Blossom’s idea. She worked hard with Eden to design these dresses.
And I think they look perfectly lovely. Though clearly you forgot to put yours on before leaving your bedchamber.
Where did you even find that gown?” Her gaze travels down to my skirt, hardening into a glare when she notices the long slit that reaches my hip. “If you can even call it a gown…”
“Oh, this old thing?” I laugh teasingly. “Found it in your wardrobe, actually.” I didn’t. But the way her face flushes like a tomato is too hilarious to resist.
“That’s not…” she stammers. “I-I don’t have any gowns like that!”
“Nice to catch up with you. Speak later.” I push past her and dive into the ballroom before she can stop me. I love Camellia, despite how much she may hate me, but this is her own fault. Teasing her is too fun.
Weaving through the crowds, my eyes drift over the ballroom.
I spot my sisters quickly by Father’s dais.
Their ugly dresses aren’t hard to miss in a sea of elegantly dressed nobles.
Eden’s there too, mingling with my other sisters while Father watches them from his throne, the gold buttons of his red overcoat matching the huge columns that stretch up to our painted ceiling.
I haven’t spoken to him since Amaryllis left… and I don't really want to.
It’s hard to trust a father who sold his eldest daughter to the highest bidder, especially when that ended up being the prince who tried to force himself upon her. I’m just glad Ami is safe, and that the prince is now rotting in a grave.
Before I can turn away, Camellia stomps up to my sisters, her face still red from our conversation.
She hisses something to Blossom, who’s dressed exactly like the rest of the girls.
Although her gown is a little more ornate than the others, and somehow her puffed sleeves are even larger than Camellia’s.
Can’t say I’m surprised. Blossom has a very big head, after all.
I duck when she turns to search the crowd. Judging by her glare, I know she’s looking for me, but I’m not in the mood to wish her a happy birthday. Instead, I snatch a glass of something fizzy from a servant’s tray, down it, and head off in search of a buffet table.
Chocolate will make me feel better.
Or more wine…
Anything sweet enough to—
“Why aren’t you wearing your gown?”
I almost groan. Gritting my teeth, I turn to see Blossom glaring at me. Her arms are folded across her chest, her tightly curled black hair piled high above her made-up face.
“Beloved sister,” I coo. “I was just coming to wish you a happy birthday.”
“On your way to the buffet table? The other side of the ballroom from where you saw me? I watched you run away.” She shakes her head, sighing. “It doesn’t matter… What matters is your gown. Why aren’t you wearing the gold gown I had made for you?”
“You don’t like my dress?” I place my hand against my chest in mock offence. “But I picked it out specially for your birthday!”
“Be quiet.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.
My mouth is desperate to keep teasing, but I stop myself.
Blossom’s scowl is trembling slightly, like she’s worried about something.
“All you had to do was put it on, Dahlia. I had it delivered straight to your bedchamber. Would it be so hard for you to just—”
“What is it?” I cut her off. “Is something else happening tonight? Why do you look so afraid?” I glance around.
The party seems like a normal birthday ball.
Pink ribbons and bows decorate the tall windows, and a string quartet plays music by the dais.
Even Father seems to be in a good mood. He grins while Heather waltzes with a tall nobleman and nods in approval as Eden bows to two well-dressed princes.
Wait. Princes?
“Why is Father letting us dance with princes?” My lips part. We’re not even supposed to talk to nobles, let alone suitors. Not unless Father introduces them to us first. And while I’ve never cared about the rules, my sisters do.
“What’s happening? What are you hiding?” I urge.
Blossom just shakes her head. “Nothing is happening.” She fixes her tiara with shaking hands. “But you need to return to your bedchamber and change before I call the guards to have you escorted out. There’s a reason you need to be wearing that gown tonight.”
My insides twist at her tone. I glance again at Eden as she mingles with the two princes.
I’ve never seen them before, and surely Father would’ve mentioned if princes were visiting.
Then I notice Gilia and Heather giggling at something another unfamiliar man said.
My gaze drifts from him to see several other men all crowded around them, each one just as finely dressed as Father.
Horror rises in my throat as my gaze jumps from sister to sister. Each one is now surrounded by at least one suitor – or several – watching them or trying to get their attention.
Even Liliana, our youngest sister at fifteen, is talking to a shy-looking teenage boy. He’s about her age, but with his embroidered overcoat and silver circlet, he’s clearly some kind of foreign prince.
Anger burns inside me as she leans closer to take his arm.
“This isn’t a birthday party, is it?” My glare hardens on Blossom. “There are suitors here, and Father’s letting them sample us like we’re some sort of princess buffet.” The words taste foul on my tongue, but I know it’s true. “Was this your idea? Tell me I’m misunderstanding.”
It would explain her nerves. Blossom might be a bit stuck-up, but she’d never organise something like this.
“We’re princesses, Dahlia,” she sighs. “Marriage is a part of our lives whether you like it or not.”
“Are you serious?”
“Not all princes are bad. A few of the young men I’ve spoken to tonight have been quite lovely. Once you’ve changed into your gown, I’ll introduce you to a few.”
“I can’t believe you—”
“You’re twenty-three,” Blossom argues. “More than old enough to leave this palace and start a life of your own.”
My brows shoot up.
“With a prince,” she adds curtly.
I want to scream. “You know you’re already the new heir, Blossom. You don’t need to ship us off with foreign princes to win Father’s favour.”
“How dare you?” Hurt nips at her tone. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, the pressure that’s on me now. I never wanted to take over Amaryllis’s responsibilities, but I’m trying my best to make it work. And I would hope you could understand that—”
“Oh I understand perfectly well.” I snap. “You want to please Father, and you thought you could use this party to marry a few of us off.”
“You’re not listening!”
“That’s what the gold dresses are for, right?” I jab my finger at her ugly gown. “You need us all in gold so the princes know who’s up for grabs.”
Blossom’s voice lowers. “You can hardly complain about the gowns when you have wrapped yourself up quite nicely for the princes yourself. Here I am trying to keep this event dignified by putting you all in appropriate gowns, when you turn up looking like you’ve just wandered out of a whorehouse.”
Unease prickles over me as I suddenly remember we’re in the middle of a ballroom. A small crowd of visiting suitors has formed around us. They pass looks and hushed whispers between them.
I’d probably feel small if I wasn’t so furious.
“Dahlia, I’m sorry. That was too far. I shouldn’t have—”
“Oh no, you absolutely should have.” I force a smile and brush the silky skirt of my dress. “You’re right, and I’m so sorry for ruining your dignified event. Please don’t let me disturb your night anymore.”
“Dahlia…”
“Happy birthday, Blossom.” I spin away, blowing her a kiss over my shoulder. The crowd surrounding us clears, but I’m not done yet.
Not even close.
Shoving past a troll-like lord who’s eyeing up Camellia, I march towards the buffet tables laden with cakes and biscuits. I’m not in the mood for chocolate anymore, but the crowds are thinner here, so it’s easier to see what I’m working with.
Downing another glass of wine, I stand on my toes to search the crowds. If Blossom wants me to talk to a prince, I’ll give her what she wants and more. But I bet she won’t like my idea of talking. And maybe Father will hate it so much he’ll never bring another prince into the palace again.
I pause. The thought echoes in my mind.
He’ll never bring another prince into the palace again.
Maybe I don’t need to run away. Maybe all I need to do is something so drastic that Father won’t let me do anything other than hide out in my stables and ride my horses all day.
Sounds tempting… and I’m already wearing the perfect gown.
A few moments pass before my gaze catches on a tall man lingering near the back of the ballroom.
His hair is a custard-blond tone and he’s dressed as all stuck-up princes are, in a regal shirt and breeches.
But there’s a very un-princely, intense look in his brow, and his eyes are darker than liquorice.
Maybe I am in the mood for sweets, after all.
Grinning, I set off towards him.