"Guards! Search for the princess!" King Aldric snapped in rage, his voice echoing across the courtyard like thunder. Everyone stormed off to look for her - servants scattered in different directions, guards checked every room, every corner, every possible hiding place in the vast palace.

King Aldric's hand trembled softly as he stood alone in the chaos. The weight of the situation crashed down on him like a collapsing building. "Eryndra, you can't do this to me," he muttered under his breath, his voice shaking with desperation. "Do you know the calamity of what will happen if Malakar finds out I can't bring the bride? That would be the end of our kingdom."

His mind raced through possibilities - where could she have gone? The gardens? The library? The tower? Then his thoughts finally snapped at him like a whip. Of course. There was one place she always went when she needed comfort, one place that called to her when the world became too much to bear.

"Yes, I should go check there," he muttered before making his way toward the royal cemetery, his footsteps quick and urgent on the cobblestone path.

The cemetery was quiet, peaceful even, with ancient oak trees casting long shadows over the weathered headstones. Just like he guessed, Eryndra was sitting beside her mother's grave, her small figure looking even smaller against the marble headstone. The late Queen's resting place was surrounded by carefully tended flowers - roses, lilies, and forget-me-nots that bloomed year-round thanks to the gardener's devoted care. Enrica, her handmaid, stood behind her like a silent guardian, her weathered hands clasped in front of her.

"Eryndra," he called out, relief and anger mixing in his voice.

Eryndra turned to look at him slowly, as if she'd been expecting this moment. Her eyes were dry now, but red-rimmed from earlier tears. "You found me quite quick, your highness," she said, her tone flat and emotionless.

"What's this madness you're trying to display now?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Do you know the pressure you put on everyone? Everybody is worried sick about you!" He gestured wildly, his composure completely gone.

"Why?" Eryndra asked simply, the single word cutting through his anger like a blade.

"What do you mean by that?" the king asked, confused by her calm response.

Eryndra stood up slowly, brushing dirt from her dress. "You guys are worried because you thought I've run away, because you know I'm your last prize to sell. If I run away, then it means the downfall of the kingdom." Her voice grew stronger with each word. "You guys are only worried about me because of your selfish reasons!"

"My princess, please, you're speaking to your father," Enrica said softly, stepping forward with concern written across her face. She'd never heard Eryndra speak to the king this way.

"Eryndra, how could you say this? I've always cared for you like a father should care for his daughter," Aldric said, his voice breaking slightly. For a moment, he looked less like a king and more like a hurt parent.

"Now tell me, father," Eryndra snapped angrily, stamping her foot on the ground, "which father gives out his daughter to a monster who treats people like they're worth nothing?" Tears began flowing down her cheeks again, but these were angry tears, not sad ones.

The king flinched at her words. He wanted to explain, to make her understand the impossible position they were all in, but time was running out. "Enough of this conversation. Let's get going - we can't afford to be late," he said, his voice tired and defeated. He turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his choices.

Eryndra watched him leave, then turned to look back at her mother's grave one more time. But what she saw there made her breath catch in her throat.

Some of the flowers which had been there, bright and beautiful just moments ago, had withered completely. The petals were brown and curled, as if they'd been dead for weeks.

"How did this wither?" she muttered, kneeling down to examine them more closely. The roses that had been blooming perfectly were now shriveled husks.

She looked back at Enrica, who was watching her with a worried expression, clearly not understanding what was happening. The older woman couldn't see what Eryndra was seeing - to her, the flowers looked the same as always.

Curious and slightly afraid, Eryndra reached out and placed her hand on another healthy flower - a white lily that had been her mother's favorite. The moment her skin made contact, the flower died immediately. The white petals turned black and crumbled to dust.

She immediately pulled her hand back, staring at her palm in shock. The skin looked normal - pale, soft, unmarked. But something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"My princess, we should get going," Enrica said gently, not noticing the dead flowers at Eryndra's feet.

Eryndra quickly stood up, her mind reeling with confusion and fear. Her eyes went back to the flowers, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

This had always been happening, she realized with growing horror, but she hadn't been sure about it before. There had been other times - touching plants in the garden and finding them wilted the next day, flowers in her room dying for no reason, even small animals seeming to get sick after she petted them. But this time she was sure of it. She was absolutely certain that the flowers had been healthy, vibrant and alive, but the moment she touched them, they died.

"How can that be possible?" she asked no one in particular, staring at her hands like they belonged to someone else. "What was happening to me?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, but the fear in it was unmistakable. Was this why her father was so willing to give her away? Did he know something about her that she didn't know about herself?

"Your highness, are you okay?" Enrica asked, making her snap out of her confused state. The concern in the older woman's voice was genuine and deep.

She turned back to look at Enrica, forcing herself to appear calm even though her heart was racing. "I'm fine," she said before standing up fully, brushing off her dress one more time.

Even though she tried to act okay, the thought of what just happened terrified her more than the prospect of marrying Malakar. At least she knew what kind of monster he was. But what kind of monster was she becoming?

As they walked back toward the palace, Eryndra kept her hands carefully away from any living thing. The flowers in the garden seemed to lean away from her as she passed, though that might have been her imagination. Or maybe it wasn't.

Behind them, the flowers on the queen's grave continued to wither and die, leaving only brown, twisted stems where beauty had been just moments before. The cemetery felt colder somehow, as if death itself had visited and decided to stay for a while.

Enrica walked beside her princess, chattering softly about the journey ahead, trying to fill the silence with normal conversation. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had changed, that the girl walking beside her was not quite the same princess she had known since birth.

And she was right.