“No,” she explained. “Did you just say our wedding was tomorrow?”
“Oh yes,” he told her. “Time is of the essence. With the possibility of war between Winter and Autumn at hand, there can be no delay.”
19
Willow
Willow stood on a stool, a bevy of workers scurrying around her, measuring her limbs, draping fabric, and holding up swatches. They worked by the light of ornate oil lamps, since the session had already taken them well into the night.
The attendants had blessedly allowed her to keep on her clothing up to this point. But she knew that at any moment they might ask her to remove it, which meant the gloves would come off to reveal her vine covered hand.
What would happen if she just refused? She was the princess, after all.
She wondered vaguely if Prince Harland would back her play if she tried to tell everyone they had gotten it on during their visit to the ice gardens. He seemed the helpful type.
But even if he corroborated her lie, he wouldn’t have matching vines on his hand.
Which meant there was only one thing left to do.
The trouble was, Willow hated to do it. These people were only doing their job. And she was about to make it much, much harder for them.
“Enough,” Willow cried, in imitation of the queen. “You have fussed with me enough, you have what you need. Go and prepare my gown.”
“B-but, Your Majesty,” the lead seamstress stammered.
“Now,” Willow said, gathering herself up in her best imitation of royal bearing.
They all trailed out of the room.
She stood perfectly still until the last of them departed. When the door closed, she carefully stepped down from the stool and went to the window.
The ice capped mountains and frozen lake shimmered under the starry sky above.
She had to save herself from tomorrow, but she had no idea how. She let her mind wander as she pondered the possibilities.
A knock at the door brought her back to herself.
“Your Majesty,” Iona’s voice was soft and gentle. “I’ve come to fetch you.”
“Come in,” Willow replied.
Iona entered slowly and approached her with a sympathetic expression.
“Let’s go, my dear, the kitchen is sending up some tea for you.”
That bit of kindness was almost enough to make Willow sob.
She thought for a moment and decided to take a calculated risk.
“Iona,” she said as they walked. “I do not wish to get married.”
“I know, my pet,” Iona said sadly. “After what you went through with that Autumn prince, I cannot blame you for not wanting anything to do with a man. But the Spring prince seems kindhearted enough.”
She chafed at the implication that Heath had abused her in any way, but she knew she couldn’t push that issue without arousing too much suspicion. She was supposed to be a born enemy of the Autumn Court.
“He’s nice,” Willow agreed. “But I cannot marry him.”
Iona stopped walking and took Willow’s arm.
“I know this seems like it’s difficult,” she confided. “But your kingdom is relying on you, and you alone, to save them.”
Willow opened her mouth and closed it again.
“It’s one thing to rebel against your mother and father, but this isn’t just about you, sweeting,” Iona went on. “It’s about the people in the little houses on that mountainside. It’s about the children, like my Adam, who may be lost in this war if you don’t do the right thing and marry that mild-mannered hunk.”
Willow’s heart threatened to break. If only she could be with Heath. She would help him convince the Autumn Court to make peace between Autumn and Winter, so that all the people could breathe freely once more.
Poor Iona did know that it was only Winter’s wish for war that made it inevitable. And that she and her son would surely suffer if the Winter Court got what it wanted, win or lose.
“I will remember your words,” Willow promised, unable to argue with Iona without giving herself away.
“I know you will, my girl,” Iona said, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “You’re a good child. You always were. Do you remember the time you tried to make me a cake?”
Willow shook her head and allowed herself to be walked down the corridor as Iona told her stories about things Ashe did when she was small.
20
Willow
Willow awoke in the bright light of late morning.
She had tossed and turned all night, trying to force herself to stay in bed until dawn. But she must have finally dozed off in the wee hours, and now she had overslept and had so little time left.
She leaped out of bed and bathed quickly. She was still in her dressing gown when Iona bustled in with a tray of coffee and fruit.
“Someone slept well,” Iona teased. “Feeling better today?”
“Yes,” Willow lied. “And I want to speak with Prince Harland right away. I was shy with him yesterday. I’d like to see him privately before the ceremony, so he knows all will be well.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Iona beamed at her. “I will send him a secret message. Where do you want to meet him?”
Willow racked her brains for any place in the godforsaken castle that she knew how to get to.
“I’ll tell him that I will bring you to meet him at the ice garden in fifteen minutes,” Iona said with a wink. “Does that give you time to dress?”
“Yes, tha… that would be perfect,” Willow said.
She rushed through the rest of her dressing, which she was already getting better at. By the time Iona returned, Willow was looking reasonably put together.
“Very nice, Your Majesty,” Iona said.
They set off down the corridor again. This time the way looked slightly more familiar.
When they reached the doors that led out to the ice garden, Iona gave Willow’s elbow a squeeze.
“Good luck, dearie,” she said.
Willow nodded, then stepped out into the glassy gardens.
A moment later, Prince Harland appeared in the doorway.
“Good morning, Princess Ashe,” he said with a bow.
Willow curtsied politely and then rushed over.
“We have to talk,” she said.
“Well, we don’t have much time,” he said. “Unless that’s your wedding gown and you’re already prepared for the ceremony?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
To his credit, he nodded and walked with her.
Willow took a deep breath to gather her nerves, then did the unthinkable. She told him the truth.
“I am not who you think I am,” she said. “The woman you know as Princess Ashe is a changeling. She’s in the mortal realm now, where she was born. And I am actually Willow, the original Fae princess who was traded away for a mortal just after I was born.”
“I don’t understand,” Harland said, his brow furrowed.
“The most important thing to know is that my parents in the Winter Court want war,” Willow said. “That’s why they sent me away in the first place. That’s why they want to marry me off to the Spring Court instead of the Autumn.”