Chapter 4

F ury beat through Rosamund as she charged down the stairs and through the great hall, her mind on one destination only. Her father and the Woodhaven royals were in the great hall, discussing the upcoming wedding. When Queen Adele tried to engage her, she breezed past her, ignoring her.

“Rosamund!” her father called.

But she ignored him too, still gripping her skirts tight in her fists and nearly sprinting through the halls.

“Forgive her, your majesty,” she overheard her father say.

“No need. She’s had a bit of a shock, I gather,” the queen responded.

Her father said something else, but Rosamund was out the door and into the hall and didn’t hear. Her eyes were blurred with tears as she picked up speed. She charged into the royal gardens, never stopping until she was a good distance from the castle. She paused to swipe at the tears in her eyes.

The gardens were fragrant this time of year, since it was spring. There were lilacs, chrysanthemums, tulips, and lilies in bloom. As she stood on the path, she surveyed the immaculate grounds and wondered, not for the first time, why there were no roses.

From what she gathered from the groundskeeper roses were forbidden to be grown in the royal gardens. Or anywhere near the castle, for that matter. She never understood why. She had never seen one or smelled one. She only knew about roses from pictures in books and reading about their sweet, perfect fragrance.

With slow steps, she headed to the gazebo where she liked to spend time alone to think. She sat on the bench, staring out at the swaying bushes of flowers.

She didn’t want to marry someone she had never met. Certainly, she understood she was to be betrothed at some point but she did not expect to have already been betrothed her entire life. All this time, she thought her father was planning which nobles to bring to the castle to meet her and ask for her hand when instead he was secretly planning her wedding and her future.

A future with a prince from that other kingdom. What was she to do? It was impossible to refuse and shirk her duty as princess. Her parents would never allow her to deny the hand of a prince.

Some part of her, though, had hoped she would marry for love instead of duty. That hope was utterly squashed.

Though Queen Adele and King Reginald seemed to be cordial, intelligent people, she was still not interested in marrying their son. Even if he was just as cordial and intelligent.

As she brooded, something fluttered near her face. She realized it was a dragonfly with iridescent wings that beat so quickly, they were a blur. The dragonfly alighted on the nearby railing, the wings slowing to nothing more than a faint flutter.

“Why so melancholy, princess?” a high-pitched voice nearby asked.

She startled, glancing around to see who was speaking, but there was no one there. She was alone. She stiffened, her back ramrod straight.

“Who’s there?” she demanded.

The dragonfly remained where it was. “It’s me.”

She glanced around again, this time scooting to the edge of the seat. But still there was no one there.

“Down here,” the voice said.

She peered at the small winged creature as its wings moved up and down in slow methodical beats.

“Hello,” it said, a smile in its voice.

How could a dragonfly smile ?

“You?” Rosamund moved closer to inspect the creature.

It chuckled. “Yes, of course.”

“You can talk?”

Another chuckle. “All creatures can. You just have to know how to listen.”

Rosamund shook her head as she perched on the bench near the dragonfly looking at it in wonder. “Amazing,” she breathed.

“So, tell me, princess, why are you sad?”

She leaned back in the seat, her back pressing into the wood gazebo, and sighed. “I’m to be married.”

A small flutter of wings, then, “Is that so terrible?”

“It is when you’ve never met the other person,” she said, sounding glum.

“Ah, I see. And you do not wish to marry this person?” the dragonfly asked.

“Prince,” Rosamund said. “He’s a prince of the neighboring kingdom. And, no, I do not.” Again, she let out a heavy breath. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am a princess, and I must obey my parents’ wishes.”

“Must you?”

Rosamund looked down at the creature. “You are a dragonfly. You don’t understand.”

It rose up and fluttered close to her face. “You could always leave.”

The princess tipped her head to one side. “Leave?”

“Yes. Pack a bag, leave the castle, never look back.”

Her heart picked up speed. “You mean, run away?”

“I mean find a life of your own,” the little dragonfly corrected. “The world is a big place, after all.”

Rosamund considered this. She stared down the path toward the castle, wondering if that was something she would be able to do. Pack a bag and leave. Never look back. Forge her own way. Live her own life. But how? She knew nothing of the world outside the castle walls. She had barely spent time outside them her entire life. Her father kept her closely guarded. He refused to let her ride alone. She always had an escort.

“Perhaps it is a bad idea,” the dragonfly said and alighted once more on the railing.

Rosamund’s pulse quickened as she thought of leaving.

“It’s a wonderful idea,” the princess whispered.

She pressed cold fingertips to her lips, imagining what it would be like to leave this place behind. To become her own person. To marry for love instead of duty. Or perhaps not marry at all. The more she thought about it, the more her heart pounded with excitement.

She shot to her feet suddenly, then turned to the dragonfly still on the railing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the advice.” Rosamund flashed her a smile and then took off running back up the path toward the castle, her skirts in her fists.

She was going to pack a bag, wait for the cover of nightfall, and then leave this place forever.

When the princess was at the end of the path, the dragonfly rose up from the railing and, using a bit of magic, turned back into her true form. Queen Rowena watched her go, a deep guttural laugh bubbling up her throat.

“You are so welcome, princess.”

Her plan worked beautifully. Now all she had to do was give the girl a little push and she’d prick her finger on a thorn in no time.

Grinning, she waved her arms and disappeared in a puff of magic, returning to her home deep in the Eternal Court.