Khari,
Once upon a time, I thought “happily ever after” was nothing but make-believe, just like the stories read to me when I was a child, but my betrothal to your brother has calmed my doubts. Dear friend, I wish you could be with me today—

“Keep a stiff neck, Your Highness,” one of my ladies-in-waiting reminds me. I drop my pen and straighten my posture as another lady sighs, nimbly braiding a strand of my kinky tresses.

“So much hair,” she mumbles under her breath.

“Thank you.” I smile, shifting toward her, but two hands grip my forehead to force it forward. My smile turns apologetic, but no one says anything else as they continue to prepare me for today’s event: my wedding.

Glancing down at the cursive print before me, my stomach teems with butterflies. My beloved, Vincent, has been finalizing the details of our nuptials. He couldn’t sneak any food from the tastings for me to try, but he told me of the succulent roasted ducks they’ve been fattening up just for today, the lobsters by the barrel, and the freshest greens that the kingdoms could produce. Pangs of hunger replace my jitters, but only for a moment.

Far off, violins hum and horns blare, signifying that the guests from our two kingdoms must be entering the Azalea Courtyard. Only used for weddings and funerals, it’s home to fuchsia blooms that defied all logic and sprouted up between the thick slabs of concrete that blanket the rest of Iman. I’ve spent countless nights dreaming of what it’ll be like to share our first kiss there.

It’s embarrassing, but I’ve been practicing with my fist to make sure I’ll do it right. I even tried with a mirror once. And again with a plum. I’ve been overthinking this kiss; I swear it’ll be the death of me. But it’ll be worth it. Stars will collide and the world will stop the second our lips meet.

A sigh escapes me as the silver chain around my necklace catches my eye in the mirror. Vincent gave it to me the first night of our betrothal to promise that, even though our marriage is political, it would also be full of love. This little moonstone rose has helped me keep sight of the future amongst all the chaos of the wedding. Multicolor specks twinkle in the light, reminding me of how grateful I am to be here.

There’s just one other thing that could make today flawless, but Ados isn’t in the business of listening to prayers.

A knock on the door startles me. One of the braiders sucks her teeth and walks to the entryway, pulling the heavy mahogany door ajar. The old metal hinges creak as she peeks through, mindful to keep me hidden.

A bride can only be seen by her father and the staff tending to her or Ados won’t bless the union. Father made sure everyone knew this rule, since Imanians don’t abide by the same religion or culture. For Rosewyn’s sake, he was insistent that it be respected.

Sternly, the braider tells the unwelcome guest, “It’s forbidden for anyone to see the princess—”

“And under the prince’s command, everyone here will keep this visit a secret,” a familiar voice answers. A sharp gasp leaves my mouth as I abandon all self-control and whip around. Standing a foot taller than I remember, in his navy-blue regalia, is Khari.

The stylists throw their hands in the air as I bound over to him. He spreads his arms wide to embrace me. His shiny new medals and badges of honor press into my skin while I hold him tight. Tears stream down my face, effectively ruining my makeup.

“Why are you— You shouldn’t be here. How’d you get away from the army?” I stumble over my words. He snorts.

“You know no one can tell me what to do.”

Which is exactly why his mother sent him away to begin with.

A bell tower chimes, indicating the top of the new hour. Reality crashes down on me, sucking all the merriment from our reunion.

“You really can’t be here.” I say, shoving him back toward the door.

“Why? Your father? Everyone here knows better than to betray a member of the royal family.” He sidesteps me and walks over to my wedding gown. It sits on a dress form as tailors finish making last-minute alterations. Khari glances back and forth between me and the dress, hiding his mouth with his hand.

“I didn’t pick it.” I roll my eyes as I sit back down.

The dress is huge. They cinched the waist as much as possible and gave me a train so long that it could reach the edges of the earth. Gaudy red and blue gemstones representing both nations mar the squared neckline and hem of the ivory gown. I’d never voice this aloud, but Iman can be rather tasteless. Everywhere you look, there’s some sort of diamond or crystal meant to emphasize their mining prowess. The only thing that doesn’t glitz in this lavish room is the cobalt down comforter and the sheer beige window treatments.

“But,” I break his judgmental silence, “that doesn’t matter. All that does is what will happen when I’m inside it.”

“Suffocate?” He looks back, a smirk on his face.

“No. Marry Vincent.” The corners of my lips curl upward for the hundredth time today, but his do the opposite. “You’ve been away for two years. Maybe you’ll get along better now.”

He scoffs. “I doubt it. I can’t respect anyone who refuses to challenge people when they’re wrong.”

Vincent could have been more supportive of Khari when their mother sent him to the military, but he wasn’t of age yet. No one would have listened.

“Do you really think you’ll be happy with him?” he asks, studying me. “You’ve written me novels’ worth of letters singing his praises, but are you sure?”

“Of course. He’s good to me. He’s my true love.” The words come out softly as I finger my necklace.

“You do know true love is reserved for stories, right? This is real life, Amala,” he reminds me gently, not that I needed it.

“True love is real for anyone who believes in it. And . . .” I quickly shift my eyes about the room as if a spy from back home could be listening, and beckon him closer with my hand. Khari leans in, his brow raised in a silent question. “He’s helping me find her.”

His eyes widen.

It’s been six years since Lady Neveah was banished, right before my engagement. She was my first lady-in-waiting, although she was more like a mother to me than my own. Khari didn’t get the chance to meet her, but all my happy stories involve her. He knows how much this means to me.

“I told Vincent how Father sent her away for defying Ados and how I never got to say goodbye. I have no idea where she is and never had the resources to find her.” I grab Khari’s hand and squeeze. “He said he’d help me.”

Khari exhales loudly and leans against the wall closest to me. Out of his pants pocket, he pulls a buttery chocolate chip cookie with flaky salt dusting the top.

“I grabbed this from the kitchen for you. Originally it was to celebrate our reunion, but I think a larger toast is in order.” He breaks the cookie in two and hands me the bigger half. “Know that you don’t just have his support. You have mine too. Whatever it takes to bring her home.”
“You shouldn’t be here, young prince.”

Everything stills as the bass of my father’s voice reverberates from the open doorway. A chill ripples through me and leaves goosebumps in its wake.

I don’t dare turn around. This is exactly what I was afraid of. We’re breaking one of the most important pre-matrimonial acts right in front of my father.

But Khari isn’t fazed by the intrusion. His shoulders broaden as he pushes himself to his full height and approaches my father.

“Calvin.” Khari addresses him by his first name.

In the mirror, I can see a vein bulge across my father’s temple.

“Those years away made you bold. I’d respect it if your own mother didn’t find you to be such a scathing disappointment,” Father says.

“Luckily for you, this disappointment saves your kingdom from the problems you create.” Khari stares him down.

My father has more enemies than friends, which is why this marriage is even happening. In exchange for my hand and our ports, we got Iman’s military protection—and that includes Khari.

His deployment letters were upbeat, if sparse, the last couple of years, but if his tight fists are any indication, the battles he fought were worse than anything I could imagine. I prepare for Khari to say something nasty, but he simply shakes his head and leaves through the door. He knows there’s no point in arguing with my father. The teensiest bit of relief floods through me as I watch him disappear.

Father clears his throat, and everyone remaining scurries out, leaving the two of us alone. Much like Khari, he’s dressed in his formal attire, sans any badges of honor. The sleek, utilitarian crown that sits on top of his short black hair says enough. His blood-red blazer contrasts with the sparkly diamonds ground into the gray walls.

“Am I a joke to you, Amala?” he asks, softer than I expected.

“No, sir.” I shake my head, shame heating my cheeks.

“Then why do you toy with me like this?”

Words get caught in my throat.

“Should this slip-up have happened in Rosewyn, the entire wedding would have been called off, and Ados surely would have punished not just you and me, but every member of our bloodline for generations. Hundreds of years of misfortunate, and for what?” He looks down at the cookie in my hand. “A dessert? Ados forbid word of this meeting gets out and the townsfolk think there’s something more than misplaced friendship between you two. The merger would be called off. Thousands of civilians’ lives would be in turmoil due to your selfishness.”

“I’m so sorry.” I fidget with the fraying lace trim on my satin robe as tears cloud my vision. “I’ll pray to Ados for forgiveness.”

“As you do, remember how much depends on this merger. Don’t be the reason people die. Be mindful of yourself, Amala.”

I swallow hard. The guilt makes my stomach cramp.

“No more issues.” He stalks over, leering down at me. “Do I make myself clear?” Before I can answer, his attention lands on the letter I was writing to Khari. He snatches it from the desk, peering over the words with disgust.

“Happiness isn’t your concern. Focus on your duty and the fate Ados assigned to you.”

He grabs ahold of my chin, forcing me to look at him. His skin is the same dark umber as mine, but that’s where our resemblance stops. He lets go of me roughly and rips up the letter.

“Ladies,” he calls out to the hallway. “Fix her face. She’s a damn mess.” Without another word, he leaves. The staff bustle into the room, smiling as if nothing happened.

“Your Highness.” One of the ladies taps me on the shoulder and holds out a singular creeping buttercup flower. “From Prince Vincent. He said he can’t wait for you to be his.” She hands it to me and reaches for the makeup to fulfill my father’s request.

I roll the stem between my thumb and index finger, wishing the small bloom made me feel better. Flowers aren’t common in Iman, after all. It’s a sweet gesture, but it’s overshadowed by my father’s lingering threat. I place it on the vanity and shut my eyes.

The ladies re-powder my face and paint over the tear marks as I sit quietly in the chair. When they show me my finished reflection, I don’t react. My father’s words replay in my head, drowning out any excitement.

As we’re about to leave, one of the crumpled pieces of my letter catches my attention.

Once upon a time,

If only fairy tales were real.

My father is just the messenger. Ados is the villain, and after today, I’ll be free from them both.