Chapter 4

The servants barely look me in the eye while they prepare me. Maybe they’re afraid they’ll see the truth… how close I am to shattering.

They lace my gown until the breath leaves my chest, until I feel more like a doll than a woman. Someone pins my hair into an intricate crown of braids. Someone else brushes gold across my eyelids and murmurs, “Hold still, Princess.”

Their hands move delicately. Mine shakes.

The mirror shows a bride.

But the girl staring back feels like ...