Prisoner of Silk: An Adult Fairy Tale Retelling (Queen of the Sun Palace Book 1)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  Copyright © 2018 by Lidiya Foxglove

  Cover Art by chisami

  Typography by Natasha Snow Designs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Prisoner of Silk

  Queen of the Sun Palace Book One

  Lidiya Foxglove

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  More Romantic Fantasy from Lidiya!

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Rose

  It is no secret that human parents prefer sons to daughters, especially kings and queens. Sons become leaders of the realm. Daughters marry foreigners and leave, taking their charms and their dowry with them, never to be seen again.

  I was an exception, because my mother had ten healthy sons before me. The kingdom was utterly sick of sons. They wanted a princess.

  As a girl, I never tired of hearing the story of my christening.

  “Everyone was so excited to have a princess,” my nurse would say. “So excited for you, my darling. Your parents threw a huge banquet and invited every one of note in the realm, and none of them declined the invitation, not even the Three White Sisters. You received presents upon presents—toys and gold and even the ribbons you’re wearing in your hair right now. As you lay in your crib, a hush came over the room as the Three White Sisters approached. The faeries looked at you and the first one said, ‘I will give her the gift of beauty.’ The second one said, ‘I will give her the gift of grace.’ And the third one gave you the gift of a quick mind, which made the court murmur because it was an unusual gift for a princess.”

  “But Mama and Papa didn’t invite everyone,” I would always prompt. “They only invited people they like.”

  “Yes, they did leave one powerful faery witch off the invitation. She’s a dirty, wicked old woman and she shouldn’t have had any place at a princess’ christening, but she showed up anyway.” My nurse would get a little indignant at the thought. “The entire room went silent and still, except for the brave guards who tried to put themselves between the old witch and your cradle. But the old witch only laughed at them, waving her hand and showing them her most terrible aspect, so they had to stand aside.”

  I would always get completely mesmerized at this part. When I was younger, I didn’t know what ‘aspect’ meant, but now I knew it meant she had used a dark glamour that made everything in the room look as if it was crumbling to dust.

  “She approached your cradle. Your mother was crying, but no one could stop her at that time. She said, ‘Yes, little Marie Rose will be the most beautiful and graceful and quick of all princesses, but when she is sixteen years old, she will prick her finger on a spindle and fall into a sleep for a hundred years.”

  My nurse always left out the details, because she was afraid of scaring me, but I had heard it from others.

  You will be helpless to save her. She will live, and you will live, but she’ll be dead to you and you will be dead to her, because you will live your waking years in different times. When she wakes, every last one of you will be dust, but she will have no sense of time passing, and she will surely die of despair when she sees the graves of her beloved family and friends.

  “That will never happen,” my nurse always concluded. “Your mother immediately ordered every spinning wheel in the entire kingdom to be destroyed.”

  This had been a horrible blow to the economy, but it also assured me that my mother was strong enough to protect me from any witch.

  My father died when I was ten, plunging my mother into permanent mourning, but she assumed the rule of our kingdom alone. This didn’t seem to intimidate her; while some queens were known for parties or their beauty, my mother was known for signing important papers while in labor and for taking a personal interest in the military. As a young queen she once pawned jewels so our soldiers would have the latest equipment. I was a little afraid of her even though I loved her.

  Still, I had a very happy childhood. The court of Osteria was a good place to grow up, with plenty of music and fresh air, my brothers doting on me and teaching me to ride horses and giving me the lead female roles in theatrical performances in our private theater. I never worried about the witch and her curse. Everyone around me adored me and protected me, down to the last guard and servant, but I was not too spoiled because my mother was so strict. By the time I was fourteen she was already considering what kingdom she could possibly offer me as a bride, considering that they would have to destroy all their spindles. The only other option was to leave me a spinster, remaining in my homeland forever.

  I was horrified at the thought. I was already starting to notice handsome young men in my own kingdom, while I painted watercolors of imaginary wedding gowns. My friends were starting to be asked to dances, but I was only ever part of “the crowd”. All the boys looked at me and most of them danced with me, but none of them wanted to get too close. I was marked by my curse. Of course, I wasn’t going to marry within the palace anyway. If it wasn’t for the curse, I would probably have been one of the most desirable princesses on the continent. I wasn’t entirely ignorant of this fact.

  “Humility is a virtue,” my mother always scolded if I acted the slightest bit superior.

  I tried very hard to be humble. But there was a difference between being humble…and not caring at all that no one would marry me because of a stupid curse from some dirty old witch I had never met.

  Mother wrote heartfelt letters to every king and queen in the entire realm, explaining that I was blessed with almost unearthly beauty and grace, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, I was worth destroying trade in one’s kingdom.

  Well. That didn’t work. One prince wrote me a personal letter apologizing that his parents would not allow him to marry me. “I will keep the miniature of you close to my heart and think of you always, dear Rose,” his letter said, and I took that letter into my room and burst into tears. I wanted a boy to call me ‘dear Rose’ and keep pictures of me close to his heart and to hold me while I cried!

  Instead, I was a princess with more rejections than an aspiring actor. My poor young heart felt shattered.

  That was when the letter came.

  To Her Royal Majesty Empress Marie Theresa of Osteria,

  Word has travelled that you seek a husband for your fair daughter Marie Rose, who was cursed by the Cobblestone Witch. This witch hails from my own kingdom so I feel somewhat responsible for your daughter’s plight. I understand that you fear the touch of a spindle will plunge her into a century of sleep, and I know you have destroyed your own garment trade because of it.

  Here in Ellurine, we see no need to destroy the livelihood of our workers. I’m sure you have heard tales of the Palace of the Sun. A princess who set
s foot in the Palace of the Sun would never be vulnerable to such a curse, for she will never know a single moment in which she is not surrounded by the court and well protected. I would employ additional measures to make sure she does not accidentally stumble into what you might consider a dangerous level of freedom.

  Eventually, she would take the role of The Queen who Bowed, and you can be sure that such a role would not allow for any mishaps. Every precious inch of her skin will belong to my grandson the Crown Prince Augustus and he would guard her with his life. He is seventeen years of age now and already as thoughtful and disciplined as the great kings of our house. I would advise the marriage to take place—with your approval—within five years’ time, when the children have fully ripened into adulthood, due to the expectations of their office.

  It would be a strategic alliance for both of our people, and an example for our modern era of cooperation, for my faery kingdom and your human kingdom to form the bonds of matrimony. Such an alliance would strengthen both of our defenses along the northern sea.

  I hope this letter merits your earnest consideration and await your reply,

  King Emriel II of the Royal Kingdom of Ellurine, The Palace of the Sun

  I knew my mother had already read the letter, and probably collected her thoughts, before she summoned me. But she still looked pale.

  “I never thought to offer your hand to Ellurine,” she said. “He was the one who reached out to me. It is an unprecedented honor for a faery kingdom to make the first move to let a human girl into their kingdom. Word of your beauty and charm must have…reached quite far.”

  “A faery prince—!” My thoughts immediately soared to how handsome he must be.

  I didn’t even get to finish my excited thought before she cut me off. “You are too young to know what is being asked of you.”

  It was a strange letter. I didn’t understand why I had to be fully ‘ripened into adulthood’, when my brothers had married women of fifteen and sixteen. “Five years from now?”

  “Faeries live a bit longer,” my mother said. “It is nothing to them to wait. Of course, to you, it seems a very long time, but I maintain that you are safest here. I am concerned that he would not ban the use of spindles. That isn’t the bargain I’ve been looking for, and yet…”

  “No one is going to ban spindles,” I said. “They’ve seen what it’s done to us here. But I’m obviously not going to touch a spindle. Yes, I know, it could be an enchanted spindle, but…if the witch is from his kingdom, he probably knows how to handle the curse. Aren’t faeries very powerful?”

  “They are, but…I am not sure the ways they use their magic is…proper for a girl from Osteria.”

  I wasn’t intimidated in the slightest, because of course I’d heard stories about faery men. I knew that they were supremely beautiful, as beautiful as high elves, but more dangerous—which of course made them a hundred times more appealing. Court life in Osteria was so damnably pleasant that my friends and I dreamed of highwaymen, pirates, and rogues of all sorts.

  “Dear, it is not like something from one of your stories,” my mother said sharply. “They do things very differently there.”

  “How so?”

  For once, my mother seemed to be grasping for words. “Your husband would be the next king. You would become the Queen Who Bowed…”

  “I would be queen of the faeries!”

  “Every aspect of life in the palace is regimented and you must be willing to submit to your husband in all things. Your role as his consort would be to please him. You would have no true privacy. None at all. And the things that would be asked of you…well, you would have to be willing and eager to perform them or you will find it a very bitter and unwelcome home. You’ll have to follow the guidance of the king, the prince, and your tutors. Still…” She tapped the letter against the desk. “It would be a very powerful alliance.”

  It was so like my mother to quickly turn from thinking of my happiness to thinking of the welfare of the kingdom. She had always encouraged her children to do the same, but in this case it wasn’t hard. Submit to my husband? Follow the guidance of the king and my tutors? I didn’t see how that would be any different from my current existence. My mother currently shaped the course of my life, and what princess wasn’t heaped with rules and expectations?

  All that mattered was that someone was willing to take on the risk of my curse and marry me.

  “He sent a portrait of the prince,” Mother said.

  My eyes widened as she handed the picture to me. It was a little painted miniature inside of a locket that could be worn as a bracelet. The bracelet was encrusted with tiny diamonds. It was a very confident gift to send along with the proposal. But the diamonds were not the prize. It was the man inside of them that stirred my imagination.

  He was, indeed, very beautiful, in a way unlike any man I had ever seen. His skin was pale while his hair was jet black, with a slight curl that framed his high cheekbones and sensual dark eyes. His ears were just slightly pointed. His expression was confident, faintly smiling, like he held a secret. Whoever painted it had a true gift for capturing the sense of life in a person’s face. He looked rather young but just as the letter said, he didn’t seem like a boy. He had the eyes of someone raised to bear the responsibilities of a kingdom on his broad shoulders, and my breath quickened at the thought of such a man guarding me with his life. I wouldn’t mind at all if every inch of my skin belonged to someone so beautiful…

  My mother took a heavy breath, reaching for a sheet of parchment. “Every child must grow up some time,” she murmured.

  Later, I would realize how ill-prepared I was for what was expected of me. Why did my mother say nothing? She loved my father dearly, but like many kings he had a beloved mistress. After my father died she had even established a ‘chastity commission’ to arrest adulterers, as if she needed to take some kind of revenge on him from beyond the grave for the sweet, weepy young thing at his funeral. She never spoke to me about sex. At my young age it was hard for me to fathom that she must have had sex herself at least fourteen times! …counting up the children and the miscarriages.

  “Are you accepting the proposal?”

  “I am going to ask King Emriel a few questions,” she said. “But if we can work out the particulars of the alliance, then…yes. I don’t see that you will have a better offer than this.”

  “Can I write to Prince Augustus?”

  “Patience, child. I would rather you wait until you are at least sixteen. As the letter says, he is a man. You have five years now before you must become a woman.”

  Chapter Two

  Rose

  Five years passed, fast in all ways except where it came to my betrothed. We exchanged letters occasionally, but his native language was different from mine, and I was always so busy with dances and hunts, court festivities and ballets and operas, playing with my pet dogs and laughing with friends. More than anything, I was busy with all the lessons I needed before I went to the Palace of the Sun.

  So many lessons! I hated them and was always being scolded for not paying attention. My ‘gift’ of a quick mind seemed like much more of a curse. It had not manifested itself in any particular brilliance, only that I was always restless and would rather play with dogs or small children or go riding with my brothers or put on plays (but not so much the rehearsals).

  Once the marriage was set, King Emriel made it clear that I must be ready to join his court. I had to study the faery language until I was fluent enough to write proper letters to my husband, although even then, my tutor supervised every letter I wrote.

  “The letters may be seen by others besides the prince,” he said. “So you must write them as if the entire court will read them.”

  He was from the court of Ellurine himself, so he knew these things.

  I hated writing letters, too—most especially in the faery language for the whole court to read.

  I had to have my teeth straightened by a faery sorceress—not w
ithout pain, might I add!—and change the way I wore my hair, and learn how to walk and dance.

  “In the Palace of the Sun, they do not walk, they glide,” he said. Many of our exchanges went like this:

  “I am gliding!”

  “No, you are not.”

  “Then…what am I doing wrong?”

  “Your steps fall too heavily.”

  “I was enchanted with grace! How can I possibly walk too heavily?”

  “Yes, Princess, you are very graceful, no one would dispute that, but you are graceful like a leaf tumbling around in the wind. You dash and spring and leap. You should be as slender and gentle as a willow tree swaying, while still remaining confident in its position on the earth.”

  “I don’t know what you mean!”

  But somehow, day by day, he was a little more satisfied with me and one fine day he pronounced that I would be the most graceful young woman in all of Ellurine.

  “They won’t be able to tear their eyes from you. I’m sure they will be most pleased with this alliance. The faeries love nothing more than a women who is beautiful not just in face, but in every fine gesture. Even as you age you will never lose this kind of beauty.”

  An entirely new wardrobe was purchased for me, all made in Ellurine according to their court fashions. Each one arrived, wrapped in soft paper and perfume, heavy with silk and brocade. I was not allowed to put them on until I had crossed the borders, but I was allowed to look at them, along with my friends, and it was a terrific pastime for us. I had thirty-six new gowns, which seemed an astonishing amount even for a princess, but that was the number recommended by the king.