Chapter Six: Gifts From Your Betrothed

Affecting a posture of regret, I bowed briefly. “I'm sorry for running away. I will make sure that doesn't happen again…” I couldn't help but add, “In the foreseeable future…Mother.”

The queen narrowed her eyes at me, but she seemed to be satisfied with my reply because she raised her chin and nodded once. “Good. Now I'll leave you to get prepared for the wedding. I have received your groom's missive. The Pack is on its way here. Need I remind you why this union is important?”

Of course I had no idea why the marriage so desperately had to take place, but I had a feeling that saying so would be a bad call. So I did the wise thing: I shook my head and said gravely, “No. I understand.”

The queen nodded stiffly and turned to walk out of the room, taking her iciness with her. No jokes, as soon as the woman was gone, I could feel warmth begin to seep back into the room.

“Oh, goodness me! The queen terrifies me so much!” Conny said, pressing a palm to her heart.

Rita gave her a chiding look. “Get a hold of yourself, Conny, and bring the princess's wedding dress.”

“Aye, Rita.” Conny curtesied and bustled out of the room.

Rita held open a soft-looking robe, and I mechanically put my arms into it, letting out a soft breath as the exquisite material kissed my skin like a lover’s caress.

Feeling a little dazed, I allowed her lead me to sit at the chair by the vanity mirror. She gently toweled my hair dry and ran a comb through it with the deftness of one who had performed the ritual a thousand times before. She poured some sweet-scented oil into her palms and rubbed it onto my hair, gently massaging my scalp. She hummed a low tune as she worked. I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the blissful, luxurious feeling.

Seeing my mom again after so many years had dazed me a little. She had died when I was only ten. I remember clutching my dad’s hand as we watched her through the hospital glass. All the tubes and machines that kept her alive and helped her breathe. The doctors had said that it was lung cancer, and the diagnosis came in late because my mom waved off her coughs and frequent illness as nothing until it was too late.

The doctors called it a pity, I called it the cruelest fate in the world. My mom was my safe space and my best friend, so I never quite got over the shock of losing her like that. Same with my dad. He took to the bottle after that. He lost his job and we almost lost our mortgage too. I started working jobs to help with the bills when I was fifteen. My dad and I worked through helping him with rehab, but he always relapsed. He died when I was eighteen.

I wiped my misty eyes and focused on my present circumstances. Get a hold of yourself, Sig.

Soon, the door opened and Conny walked in with two other maids. They were carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with precious stones. Rita gave my coiffure a final gentle pat and went to them. She took a single golden key from somewhere in the voluminous layers of her skirts and bent to open the chest. I watched curiously as Rita retrieved a couple of small wooden boxes from the large chest. The two other maids took them from her and came to drop them on the vanity table.

“What's in them?” I asked curiously, eyeing the boxes. They were all being overly ceremonious about them. Conny actually bowed, I kid you not. Huh.

“Gifts from your betrothed, Yer Highness,” Rita answered. “Ye are to wear whatever's in them for the wedding.”

I gasped in shock when one of the maids opened the box.