Ryder, Lord of Astaroth

I was never one to get all excited when it came to parties and occasions or anything that involves relating with people outside my small circle, events happening within the palace or anywhere for that matter, which was why I had tried to convince mother that I would not be able to attend but today I had no choice. I could not request to sit this one out, mother, and most especially father would hear none of it.

"You need to and you should socialize more," mother had advised when I walked up to her after the announcement father had made at the dinner table a week before. "This is a good opportunity to get to know your age mates and find a new crush." Mother joked, winked, and then laughed. I just smiled.

“Am I to find a crush or a soul mate, mother?”

“A crush, a soul mate, whatever it is, you are turning eighteen next week and at that age, you get to find your soul mate. Are you not excited?” Mother asked, pulling me to sit in front of the mirror while she loosened my hair.

I gave a sigh of relief as the hairpins came off, I had felt them trying to pierce into my brain all throughout dinner and there was no way I could have shown up looking all shabby and “un-princess-like” at the dinner table because the Duke of Brigham had shown up, unannounced late in the evening and he had brought along his eldest son. Father had said it was impromptu and unarranged but I had been much wiser than that, I knew it had been for an alliance marriage but to which of the princess? that I could not tell, but one thing I knew was that it had better not be a marriage to me.

*  *  *  *

The young man, Eric Dumieres, was handsome, to say the least, but he was chubby and I knew that he had felt uncomfortable in that armor he had on throughout dinner and he sweated a lot. He was a daunt, I could tell but he had stolen glances at me a lot during the meal, which had made me uncomfortable as he had made it very obvious but I had sent him my own stares which told him to back off. I did not like him. And then father made it much worse.

“Eric, I can see that you like my daughter?” He had asked. “You have been stealing glances throughout dinner.”

Eric had choked instantly on the mashed potatoes and I had frozen, exchanging glances at my two sisters also seated at the table. Mother chuckled and placed a hand on father’s.

“Now, now. Don’t frighten the young man.”

“Are you by any chance proposing a marriage Your Highness?” The duke had asked, smiling widely and shaking his son by the shoulder. Eric kept his head low and chuckled nervously, he looked up and met my angry stare which made him put his head back down. It did not help the matter that I had to be sitting opposite him.

“Marriage hmm…?” Father seemed to contemplate, then he smiled at mother and back at the duke. “Doesn’t seem like a bad idea to me.” Then they laughed.

I fisted my palms under the table, I knew they would plan my marriage to this… man if it were possible, but it was not. It would not happen anyway.

“Why plan a marriage father?” I had spoken up, stopping the men from laughing. “We find our soul mates at the age of eighteen so why plan a marriage if it would not happen?”

My question had subsequently ended the chatter about marriage and the two men had gone on to discuss other things more political and less involving marriage.

*  *  *

“Excited?” I asked mother as she pulled away the hairpins. “I am excited to turn eighteen and find my soul mate but excited about marriage to Eric? No. In absolutely no way can I be excited mother.” The last of the pins came off and mother sat beside me.

“What if he turns out to be your soul mate? Would you still be able to reject him?”

“The gods are not so cruel mother.”

*  *  *  *

Now standing in front of the century-old mirror a week after and wearing the ridiculous red dress that Gwyn had forcefully picked for me, I could not help but feel stupid. I felt that I and Gwyn looked like lost twin princesses wearing the same outfit, which in the actual sense was not totally wrong, since we were both princesses and we were sisters, but the dresses were of different colors. I glanced at Jenny through the mirror sitting on the bed, making that three lost princesses.

“I look stupid.” I commented, turning left and right and staring at myself in the mirror. “Is this not a bit too much Gwyn?”

“A bit too much?” She asked, walking up to me from behind and admiring me in the dress through the mirror, she was ten years younger than I was but seemed to be wiser than me when it came to dressing up and looking good. A shame on me, yes.

The dress was fitting, a dangerous color of red. It hugged my upper body tightly, outlining my slim waist and cupping my full breasts, mother had said I had developed early. The lower part of the dress was loose and not full, with a split by the side that came all the way up to my thighs, exposing a large part of my legs.

“Jenny?” I called my youngest sister who was sitting on the bed to ask for her opinion. “What do you think?”

She looked up from the book she was reading and I felt her six-year-old eyes roam all over my body once, from my perfectly made hair, down the dress to the shoes I had on. “Perfect.”

*  *  *  *  *

The party was well on the way and I had done all I could to escape from the sight of my father after I had sighted him talking to the Duke and his son. What mother had said to me came to her memory again;

“What if he turns out to be your soul mate? Would you still be able to reject him?”