Prince Briar glanced at me with a raised brow, seeking validation for my brother’s story. “It’s true, Liam is never without his goblet—he uses it at every meal; no one else dares drink from it.”
“Yes, that honor is strictly for the one who solved the centuries-old mystery.” And he raised the goblet and took a long drink.
The Queen of Malvagaria smiled in amusement. “Indeed. What an interesting story. You have quite the imagination, Prince Liam.”
Liam beamed. “I do what I can to make life exciting.”
He glanced at Prince Briar for his reaction to the marvelous tale, but he looked almost bored as he returned to his food without further comment.
Liam frowned before leaning over to whisper in my ear. “That was one of my best stories and he didn’t even crack a smile; I’ve gotten a better reaction out of a stone statue. Perhaps I should try a different tactic—regaling him with stories about you.”
“Liam, there’s no need—”
He ignored my pleas and enthusiastically shared some of the adventures from our childhood. Although most of the stories were quite humorous, Prince Briar’s indifferent expression didn’t change.
By the third story—an account of how he and I had frequently snuck out of bed after midnight to pilfer baked treats from the kitchens while trying to avoid the guards, who we pretended were enemy spies—he finally realized his rousing tales were falling on deaf ears. He waited for the conversation to shift before he heaved an exasperated sigh and leaned back towards my ear.
“Well, I’m out of ideas. If tales of his intended won’t even stir his interest…” He shook his head as if Prince Briar were a lost cause. “You can’t marry him, Rhea.” His tone clearly stated: case closed, you’re free. If only it were that easy.
Prince Briar suddenly stood up. “Forgive me, Your Majesties, Princess Rheanna, but it’s been a long day and I’m rather exhausted. I’m going to retire for the night.” Ignoring his mother’s stern look, he bowed and left the dining hall.
I gaped after him, shocked and stung at his hasty departure. I glanced at Liam, who lifted his eyebrows in clear disapproval. I bit the inside of my lip and returned to my meal.
I spent the remainder of dinner ignoring the conversations around me and fighting to keep my burning tears at bay, all while longing to escape the table myself. Only a few hours into our courtship and it was already a disaster, just like I’d expected it’d be. I’d made so many mistakes—I was a shy, terrible, and inattentive conversationalist; Prince Briar, while handsome, was serious and clearly uninterested. Was it any wonder he behaved in such a way when he was expected to make a match with me?
Who’d ever be interested in you?
With each onslaught, the wall that normally kept my negative thoughts at bay crumbled. I couldn’t silence them, nor could I control my anxious breaths. The moment dessert finished I stood, certain if I remained any longer my careful composure would crack, destroying any remaining hope of a union between me and Prince Briar.
Everyone looked at me, and Mother’s brow furrowed in concern. “Are you alright, Rhea? You’re a bit pale.”
“Forgive me, but I feel unwell. I must retire for the evening.”
Before Mother could even grant her permission, I hurried from the room.
Acknowledgments
I’m so incredibly grateful for all the wonderful people who’ve supported me throughout my writing adventures.
First, to my incredible mother, who’s worn many hats over the years: from teaching me to read as a toddler; to recognizing my love and talent for writing and supporting it through boundless encouragement and hours of driving me back and forth to classes to help nourish my budding skills; to now being my muse, brainstorm buddy, beta-reader, editor, and my biggest cheerleader and believer of my dreams. I truly wouldn’t be where I am without her and am so grateful for God’s tender mercy in giving me such a mother.
Second, to my family: my father, twin brother Cliff, and darling sister Stephanie. Your love, belief in me, and your eager willingness to read my rough drafts and help me develop my stories has been invaluable. Words cannot express how much your support has meant to me.
Third, to my publishing team: my incredible editor, Jana Miller, whose talent, insights, and edits have helped my stories blossom into their potential; and Karri Klawiter, whose talent to create remarkable book covers never ceases to amaze me.
Fourth, to my wonderful beta readers: my dear Grandma, Charla Stewart, Alesha Adamson, Mary Davis, Emma Miller, Holly, and Emily Flynn. I’m so grateful for your wonderful insights and suggestions that gave my story the last bit of polish in order to make it the best it can be. In addition, I’d like to thank all my ARC readers, who were so willing to give my book a chance and share their impressions. Thank you.
Fifth, to my Grandparents, whose invaluable support over the years has helped my dreams become a reality.
Last but not least, I’d like to thank my beloved Heavenly Father, who has not only given me my dreams, talent, and the opportunities to achieve them, but who loves me unconditionally, always provides inspiration whenever I turn to Him for help, gives me strength to push through whatever obstacles I face, and has sanctified all my efforts to make them better than my own.
About the Author
Camille Peters was born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah where she grew up surrounded by books. As a child, she spent every spare moment reading and writing her own stories on every scrap of paper she could find. Becoming an author was always more than a childhood dream; it was a certainty.
Her love of writing grew alongside her as she took local writing classes in her teens, spent a year studying Creative Writing at the English University of Northampton, and graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in English and History. She’s now blessed to be a full-time author.
When she’s not writing she’s thinking about writing, and when’s she’s not thinking about writing she’s…alright, she’s always thinking about writing, but she can also be found reading, at the piano, playing board games with her family and friends, or taking long, bare-foot walks as she lives inside her imagination and brainstorms more tales.
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