I hated this dress.
The lavender gown clung to me like a second skin, the corset-style bodice squeezing my ribs so tightly I could barely take a proper breath. Every time I shifted, the endless layers of the skirt swished against the marble floor, a soft, relentless reminder of how utterly trapped I was. The embroidery was beautiful, of course—silver leaves and flowers that caught the sunlight streaming through the high windows of the throne room—but I didn't feel regal. I felt like a doll in a gilded cage, dressed up for display.
I adjusted my posture, the corset forcing me upright, and folded my hands in my lap, trying not to let my discomfort show. It wasn't about me, after all. This whole ridiculous charade was for my parents. For the kingdom. For the law.
"Next," the herald called, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
The next suitor stepped forward, bowing so deeply I wondered if he was trying to outdo all the others before him. I forced a smile, a polite, serene expression I'd perfected over years of courtly appearances. Inside, I was dying of boredom.
"My lady," the man began, straightening with a flourish. He had light blond hair, neatly combed, and an eager look on his face that made me want to shrink back into my seat. "I am Lord Cedric of the Northern Hills. It would be my greatest honor to—"
His words blurred into the same rehearsed nonsense I'd heard from every man before him. Flattery. A brief resume of his accomplishments. Pledges of undying devotion to me—and to Eldora, of course, because they always had to throw that in. I'd bet my crown none of these men saw me as anything more than an opportunity. A title. A means to secure their own ambitions.
I bit the inside of my cheek, a quiet protest against the growing urge to roll my eyes. Focus, Aspin. Just smile, nod, and get through this.
Lord Cedric finished his speech with an elaborate bow, clearly expecting something more than my silence.
"Thank you, Lord Cedric," I said, my voice as even and polite as I could manage. "Your loyalty to Eldora is greatly appreciated."
The words tasted hollow, but they did the job. Cedric bowed again, his smile faltering only slightly before he stepped aside.
"Next," the herald intoned.
The line of suitors stretched on and on, disappearing into the farthest corner of the hall. There had to be dozens more. Maybe hundreds. I didn't dare count.
I stole a glance at my parents. My father sat straight-backed on his throne to my right, his sharp eyes fixed on the next suitor as if he were assessing livestock. My mother, on my left, was slightly more relaxed, but I caught the faint crease in her brow—a small sign of the tension this ceremony placed on her as well.
I wasn't doing this for myself. I was doing it for them. For Eldora.
And yet, that knowledge didn't make the ordeal any less unbearable.
The next man was already stepping forward, a nervous energy radiating off him like heat from a fire.
"Do you think they'd notice if I just disappeared?" I muttered, my lips barely moving.
My father cleared his throat softly but firmly, a sound that said, Yes, they'd notice, and yes, I'd be furious. I sat straighter, fixing my face into another polite smile.
The suitor began his introduction, but my mind had already drifted. Maybe there was a loophole in the law. Maybe I could find something buried in the archives that would free me from this absurd tradition. I could almost picture myself sneaking into the castle library at night, poring over ancient texts by candlelight—
"Aspin." My mother's voice, barely more than a whisper, snapped me back to reality.
I blinked, realizing the man had finished speaking and was now looking at me expectantly.
"Thank you, Lord..." I faltered, scrambling to remember his name.
"Ambrose," he supplied, his eagerness tinged with desperation.
"Of course. Thank you, Lord Ambrose." I nodded, hoping it looked gracious and not strained.
My mother leaned closer, her voice low enough that only I could hear. "Remember, they're not just here for you. They're here for Eldora."
I nodded, but her words felt like chains, heavy and unyielding. I knew my duty. I knew why this was necessary. That didn't mean I had to like it.
"Next," the herald called again.
I exhaled slowly, bracing myself for the next contender. As the line shuffled forward, I stared at the suitor's polished boots and forced my thoughts back into order. This was temporary. I just had to endure it a little longer.
But deep down, a fire burned. There had to be a way out. Some loophole, some ancient rule I could twist to my advantage. I refused to believe this was my only option.
And no matter how many dresses they stuffed me into, how many suitors they paraded before me, or how tightly the law tried to bind me, one thing was certain: I would find a way to break free.