Chapter 4
DAHLIA
Blossom’s birthday party ended up being a perfect disaster, and I couldn’t be happier.
After she and Eden had caught me outside with my mysterious new gentleman-friend, they’d screamed for the guards and within minutes our palace gardens were crawling with soldiers desperate to find the monster who’d ‘deflowered’ me.
Not that I would call what we did ‘deflowering’, but I suppose it was quite dark and I was moaning especially loud. The brief humiliation was all worth it, though. Because in one night, I achieved two wonderful things:
Blossom’s princess buffet was completely ruined.
And my reputation is now so far in the depths of hell that no prince would ever dare touch me again.
I haven’t spoken to Father yet, but according to Blossom he’s furious.
And so is she, while the rest of my sisters seem to pity me.
Anger, I expected, but I’ll admit the sorry looks they keep passing me are a little frustrating.
They don’t understand that this is exactly what I wanted, the whole reason I threw myself at that stranger.
This means I won’t have to worry about being married off anymore. I can live my life how I choose.
It helped that my stranger was a pretty good kisser too – if maybe a little intense.
I hope that if the guards catch him they don’t torture him too badly. It would be a shame to let that body go to waste if they were to execute him. Those broad shoulders… And those arms… Stars…
“Dahlia, you’re slouching again.” Blossom’s voice cuts through my daydream.
A week has passed since her party and we’re back in the ballroom, the buffet tables now replaced by long ballet barres, while the string quartet has become a grand piano being played softly by a handsome musician.
On the way in, I winked at him, but he paled and looked down, keeping his gaze fixed on the keys.
That’s been happening a lot lately.
His loss.
“Sorry, Blossom. I was just daydreaming about last week again. Your party,” I sigh, stretching my feet.
When there are no balls, my sisters and I use this space for our ballet lessons.
Once the warm-up is over, guards will drag the barres over and we’ll finish our stretching there.
For now, we’re sitting in small groups in the centre of the room, warming up our legs and waiting for our teacher to arrive.
Eden passes me a sad smile. “You know you don’t have to blame yourself.” She’s stretching to my left, resting her head on her knees as she holds her yellow pointe shoes. “I saw the way he had you up against the wall. There’s no way you could’ve fought back. It must’ve been horrible.”
I snort, and Blossom shoots me a furious look.
I hadn’t forgotten our conversation last week, just chosen to ignore it.
“If we’re quick, we can spin the story so he forced himself upon you,” Blossom had said after barging into my bedchamber a few hours after the ball.
“Father has already agreed to release an official statement to the palace. You were attacked, but our guards rescued you before he could take your virtue. You were a helpless victim. It could’ve happened to anyone. ”
I’d laughed and asked if the fact that I was willingly grinding against him made me more or less of a ‘helpless’ victim.
She’d argued for a while, but eventually stormed off and told me to deal with it on my own.
Father released the statement anyway. Though it hasn’t stopped the dirty looks nobles give me in the halls.
They just kept on coming.
“I had a wonderful night, Eden,” I say, flexing my ankles. “I’m surprised you weren’t caught doing the same. I saw those two noblemen you were dancing with at the ball. Neither of them handsome enough for you?”
Eden blushes. “They were princes, actually. Brothers living in one of the manors just beyond the border.”
“Brothers?” I grin. “Do you think Blossom will let you marry both if you can’t pick? After the weddings, they can take it in turns to have babies with you.”
“Enough,” Blossom hisses while Eden’s face flushes as red as my pointe shoes. “There are little ears here.”
I roll my eyes. The youngest girls, Liliana and Kalimeris, are sitting nearby, practising their splits, but they’re far too busy giggling about their own romantic encounters at Blossom’s party to pay any attention to us.
“You didn’t care about that when you invited teenage princes for them to court at the ball,” I remind her.
“That was Father’s idea, not mine,” she whispers back. “I only asked if we could invite some suitors for the older girls. He just got a little carried away.”
“Sure.” I lift one leg, crossing it over the other and twisting my upper body away from her.
She might be telling the truth, but I don’t care.
Every day that passes she sounds more like a queen, more like Father, and less like the sister I used to enjoy bickering with in our parlour over a game of cards.
Tears form in the corner of my eyes, but I swallow them down. I won’t give her the pleasure of seeing me cry. It’d only give her something else to tell me off for.
“Princess Dahlia.” I flinch as my name echoes across the ballroom. One of Father’s guards stands in the archway, his tabard an ominous shade of red.
I taste blood in my mouth.
“Princess Dahlia, you are requested to come with me to speak with the king.” His eyes capture mine.
Moving into my next stretch, I call out to him, “Tell Father his chat with me can wait. I’m in a ballet lesson right now.”
“Just go with him,” Blossom whispers. “Nothing good will come from making him wait.”
Ignoring her, I glare at the guard. “Tell Father I’m busy.”
“You are to come with me willingly,” he commands, “or I have been ordered to drag you.”
My sisters gasp. A few of them glance at Blossom worriedly. She just shakes her head, mouthing to me, ‘Go with him.’ But I don’t miss the trembling in her lower lip.
“I’ll see you at our dance circle tonight,” I tell Eden, squeezing her shoulder before dusting off my skirt and following the guard out.
I don’t say goodbye to anyone else.
The door to Father’s parlour creaks open and the guard shoves me inside. I open my mouth to protest, but it takes one look from Father for any complaints to die in my mouth.
Calling him furious would be an understatement.
“Never in all my years have I felt as disappointed as I do looking at you now.” Father scowls from his armchair. The guard behind me closes the door and takes his place beside the other guards by the large fireplace. The fire crackles and spits, casting shadows across the carpeted floor.
“Good afternoon, Father.” I force a smile. “I was just taking my ballet lesson. We’re learning a new combination today. It’s the—”
“Silence,” he seethes.
My lips clamp shut.
“Have you any idea why I’ve summoned you here?” A servant pours whiskey into his glass before he takes a sip. “Any idea at all?” His golden crown sits above the grey waves of his hair, catching the light from the fire.
“Is this about Blossom’s party?” I laugh nervously. “You can’t blame me for wearing a different dress. The gowns Blossom designed were awful. I mean, did you see the fabric? And those sleeves!” I chuckle, but Father doesn’t laugh with me.
“Are you aware of what happens when a prince fucks a naive girl?”
My eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “Father!”
“Are you aware?” His voice is deathly calm.
Wincing, I turn to watch the fire. “No…” He gave us ‘the talk’ years ago – or at least he gave it to Amaryllis and Blossom, and I’d listened in through a keyhole. He’d explained that their virginity was sacred and belonged only to their future husbands on their wedding nights.
I never really liked the sound of that.
If my future husband is not going to give me something equally as ‘sacred’, then I’ll be keeping my virtue to myself, thank you very much.
Father shakes his head. “If you let a man fuck you, you will have a child, Dahlia.”
“A child?” I panic. “But how is that… What does a baby have to do with—”
“I will not waste my time explaining how babies are made to a girl who’s already thrown away her virtue like a common street whore.”
“But, Father, I didn’t—”
“Silence!” His cheeks turn as burgundy as the wallpaper. “Even if you didn’t fuck him, you still let him expose you outside the ballroom, and there have been rumours, Dahlia, awful rumours that you seemed to be enjoying these unspeakable acts of degradation…”
A guard snorts quietly against the wall. I shoot him a look, but the cruel smirk he returns it with makes me feel as small as a mouse.
I feel even smaller as Father continues, “And if you did fuck him… Well, then we’ve even less time to fix the mess you’ve created.”
“He didn’t take my virtue.” My voice quivers. Tears threaten in the corners of my eyes, but I swipe them away. “I just got carried away. It was a stupid mistake.”
“A mistake that brought shame to our family!” he roars, bolting out from his seat.
“Do you have any idea how many princes and lords were present at the ball, the sheer distance these rumours of your… mistake have travelled? There were princes from as far as the deserts of Ilzabard!” His whiskey glass flies across the room, smashing against the door.
“So you cannot blame me for taking action swiftly.”
“I’m sorry, Father.” I keep my head down, hugging my chest. “It won’t happen again.”
“It will not,” he snarls, “because you will be leaving this palace within the hour.”
“What?” I look up, hoping to see a twitch of a grin, something to say this is all a big joke. But he can’t even meet my gaze. “Father, what do you mean?”
“I’ve found you a suitor.” Blood rushes in my ears. “One who is willing to look past your filthy activities at the ball.”
“Father…” I want to say more, but the air gets caught in my throat. It’s too warm in here. My palms are sticky. “Father, please, you can’t…”
“It’s already done. I’ve arranged a carriage to take you part of the way. My guards will escort you to it now.”
“Now?” I stutter. “But you can’t just—”
“I am your king,” he spits. “I can do whatever I please.”
“But where am I going? Who is the suitor? Have we met already? Was he at the ball?”
Questions fly out of me, but Father ignores every one, snapping his fingers at his guards. “He’s not that foul monster of a man who had you up against the wall, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”
I barely hear him through the wall of guards closing in on me. My sisters’ faces flash across my vision. Amaryllis. Blossom. Fern. Eden.
They won’t know where I’ve gone. We won’t get to say goodbye.
“No, stop!” I yell. “FATHER!” I twist my arms against the guards’ hold, but there are too many and they’re too strong. “Father! Please!”
“You are no daughter of mine,” he sighs, moving to watch the dying flames.
A hand covers my mouth and I’m hauled out of the room before I can scream.