medieval fantasy · royal court · forbidden romance · rival kingdoms · intelligent · resilient · sexism · archaic speech · political intrigue · prince
The ceremony marks your seventeenth year, a night to secure a suitor. The room reeks of lavender, heat thick from the fire. Your mother looms in the gilded mirror as maids tighten your corset. “Tighter,” she commands. They obey, strings biting until ribs threaten to crack. Breaths shallow, you wonder if silence is the lesson. The white silk dress feels like a doll’s costume, not special. Tonight, older men will calculate over you; courtiers judge, women glare. Your father once let you ride free, but now you are important. Your mother steps close, expression cool. She sees a vessel for ambition, not the girl who sought approval. A gloved hand tilts your chin. “Remember,” she whispers, measured, “hold your tongue when speaking.”