Page 2 of Crowned In Sin

My heart does a painful flip as I watch each of them. I can barely breathe and it’s not the damn corset.

Most of them appear to be my father’s regular approved guests.

But then one man climbs out, and his eyes flick up toward me. It’s so startling my grip slips on the sill.

Surely, he can’t see that I’m here. This window is in shadow, and there is too much light outside, but I take a quick step back before I can stop myself, my heart pounding.

He’s a prince I haven’t seen before, I think. I’m not educated in all the realms, but I’m certain I’ve not heard of a gentleman eligible to attend who mirrors his person. He’s handsome, his body lean, and his shoulders broad enough that the shirt strains under his jacket.

When I move to the window again, he is gone, and another carriage takes his place.

A spark of hope lights and although it’s dim, it’s there.

I wish it wouldn’t sit there, where the pain of the last years lies. And yet…

I enter the ballroom on my father’s arm. A herald announces me in a loud, ringing voice.

Father’s wearing his court attire for celebrations. With the black velvet details and gold embroidery, the wealth and power of the kingdom are reflected in his cloak, fashioned with the heirloom brooch.

“Princess Cora of Kingdom Thessaora, on her nineteenth birthday.”

Cora of Thessaora. It takes restraint for me not to mimic the herald’s announcement and to remain ladylike on the king’s arm.

Everyone turns toward us. Nerves prick at my neck and I do my best to plaster a polite smile on my face. There’s a wave of bows and curtsies, then a second wave of applause. I smile brightly at all of them, nodding my head in the way my mother taught me when I was younger. The sound of the applause reminds me of how my heart beat when that prince seemed to see me in my window.

My heart races as I gaze out into the audience. Acknowledging them all in gratitude.

My father—the king—dances the first dance with me. The faces of the crowd swirl around us. Guests smile and clap and raise glasses of champagne to me. My gown is heavy, but I don’t let the weight show on my face.

They’re always smiling, but none of them want me.

I’ve been holding this thought at the back of my mind since the last ball that was held in my honor.

The truth is, most princesses would have had an offer before they turned eighteen. Other royal families would have offered, or maybe a confident duke.

Since that hasn’t happened, I can assume this is for one of two reasons: either my father has quietly made it known that he won’t consider any offers, or the rest of the world has decided that I’m undesirable. Whether it’s the kingdom, or my appearance, or perhaps something else, I’m not certain. The ball is a farce, and it will be held on my birthday for as long as I live.

The dance ends and my father bows to me. Then he draws me close and kisses my cheek.

“You are so like your mother,” he says, and his bright blue eyes shine with a happiness I haven’t seen in so long. He means it as a compliment, but it’s not true. I cannot possibly be so like her, because I don’t resemble her much at all. “This year, Cora. This will be the year I make arrangements for you.”

He says it so sincerely that it takes me aback. “That’s… that’s…” I clear my throat and mind my manners. “Thank you, Father.”

He brushes another kiss to my forehead as my mind whirls. What did the tension in his voice mean? That he regrets waiting so long? That he thinks I have done something to cause this delay? The music is spritely and echoes off the walls as does the laughter of men and women celebrating.

It’s not the right time to ask. Even if it was, I’m too busy being escorted through the ball, greeting our company and accepting their congratulations.

The more people I talk to, the more determined I am to speak with my father on the details of those arrangements.

Perhaps the reason for the delay does not matter. Perhaps the only thing that matters is that I have waited. I have been an obedient princess. I’ve never tried to seek out princes my father had not approved of. I’ve never tried to seek out any men.

Should I have done so?

A duke with lands close to the castle asks for a dance, and I accept. He will be the first in a group of men selected by my father. He’s handsome, but he is even stiffer than my father during our dance, and talks only of the horses he’s recently bought. His dusted blond hair is pulled back from his face and wrapped in a bun at the nape of his neck. Apart from his locks, I don’t find him interesting.

The next man is similar. He has flawless manners and keeps up conversation as we dance, but it is nothing real. It’s not even flirtatious. There is no spark or sudden realization of want. And as the night progresses, my desire is simply lacking.

I’m not sure I wish to be wed at all.