Summoned by Queen Fiora amidst a war, I found myself in the dining room, tasked with the absurd duty of sampling potential wedding dishes. The irony wasn't lost on me. With my father's fate hanging in the balance, how could I possibly find joy in wedding preparations? All I could do was hope for his safe return.

  Despite my apprehension, the sight of the laden table was impressive. Glistening seafood, towering cakes, and golden pastries filled the extended surface, their aromas mingling to create a symphony of garlic, herbs, vanilla, and raspberry. My stomach growled in protest; Fiora's abrupt summons had prevented me from having breakfast.

  Seated beside the queen, I eyed the feast longingly, debating the propriety of sneaking a bite. The cook, an elderly vampire with carefully styled gray hair, beamed with pride at his creations.

  "Princess Loretta," he began, adjusting his spectacles, "as I've informed Her Majesty, our appetizers consist of muzzled clams, trout biscuits, and scale butter soup – a rather exclusive selection. Would you care to try some?"

  My Minx instincts recoiled. Where was the hearty fare of home? The buffalo, the venison? We were carnivores, not dainty fish-eaters. I craved seared rabbit, its juices mingling with herbs and browned butter. Perhaps….

  "Could we add rabbit to the menu?" The words escaped before I could filter them. The expressions of the cook and queen soured instantly.

  Fiora tapped my arm sharply. "Rabbit at a wedding is ill-bred," she snapped, her voice laced with disdain. Turning to the cook, she added, "The trout biscuits are acceptable. Add those, and the scale butter soup."

  "No rabbit then?" The cook looked from Fiora to me, clearly uncomfortable.

  "The princess will adhere to our customs," Fiora stated, her eyes daring me to challenge her. "Which includes our cuisine."

  Bitch. I sighed, my hopes for a palatable wedding feast dashed. I resigned myself to the fishy offerings.

  The morning crawled by as we finalized the menu. Finally, Fiora rose, her patience clearly exhausted.

  "The seamstress arrives later with more gowns," she informed me, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "My son has been most… generous."

  More gowns? Despite her tone, I managed a polite, "I appreciate the gesture."

  "You, like many others," she muttered under her breath. Others? Did Nel have a habit of showering women with dresses? I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the queen's thinly veiled animosity.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  "Speaking of my son—" Fiora's expression softened as Nel approached. "Neltavio," she greeted him, a rare touch of warmth in her voice as she touched his cheek. The display felt strangely unsettling. "Any news?"

  "The Agartan soldiers have retreated," Nel reported. "They're outnumbered. My troops and I depart shortly to reinforce them."

  "Very well." Disappointment flickered across Fiora's face. Was it Nel's departure, or his alliance with her former enemies, that displeased her? "How long will you be gone?"

  "Weeks, perhaps. I wanted to bid you and my bride-to-be farewell."

  Fiora's brow furrowed, and she shot me a venomous look, positioning herself between us as if to shield Nel from my presence. "I trust you'll fight bravely," she said to him.

  Impulsively, I spoke. "I'm grateful you're aiding my father." It was the least I could do, despite our strained relationship.

  Fiora sneered, but I kept my gaze fixed on Nel. He seemed surprised by my gratitude, particularly after our previous night's encounter. His captivating eyes met mine, sending an unwelcome tremor through me.

  "If it ensures peace between our peoples, I'm happy to assist," he replied, his words laced with a pointed undertone. "Perhaps others will adapt to the necessary changes, Princess."

  Must I look at the bigger picture? Are the changes necessary? I suppose they are. Ugh! He’s getting into my head again.The thought of marrying him, of remaining in this castle with Fiora, filled me with dread.

  "Mustn't you leave?" Fiora interrupted the tense silence.

  "Indeed. Farewell, Mother." With that, he was gone.

  After enduring the seamstress and her endless array of gowns, I was informed of Naomi's arrival. I greeted her at the entrance, surprised by her transformation. Clad in a sophisticated court dress, she looked every bit the royal advisor.

  "Princess, it's good to see you," she said, embracing me warmly.

  "With all the recent chaos, I'd almost forgotten you were coming," I replied, returning her hug.

  "I can only imagine how overwhelmed you must be," Naomi said, her expression softening with concern. "Being here, the war, the impending marriage…"

  "What did my father truly send you here for?" I asked, lowering my voice.

  Naomi glanced around nervously. "Is there somewhere more private we can talk?"

  Once in my room, Naomi's demeanor shifted, her usual cheerful facade replaced by a worried frown. Whatever news she carried, it was clearly serious.

  "So?" I prompted, breaking the tense silence. "Why are you here?"

  "On your wedding night," she began hesitantly, "I will take your place."

  I stared at her, uncomprehending. "I don't understand."

  "I will sleep with the prince," she clarified, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will pretend to be you."

  My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "That's absurd! We look nothing alike. He'll know. How could this possibly work?"

  "I'll be veiled, as per tradition," Naomi explained.

  "What if he removes the veil?" I argued, shaking my head. "This is a terrible plan." The unspoken tension between Nel and me had been escalating. Naomi's scheme was doomed to fail, especially considering Nel's evident desire to control me. I couldn't shake the memory of his words during our first meeting, the intensity in his hypnotic gaze. Unbidden images of our wedding night flashed through my mind – a darkened room, flickering red candles, the prince's touch… No.I forced myself to remain objective, even as a blush warmed my cheeks. "It might not be as… straightforward as you think. You know how vampires are."

  "It's just the consummation," Naomi reasoned. "I doubt it will be… intense. We can request an audience if that eases your concerns."

  "Fine," I conceded, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "But if we're caught, I hope you have an army ready to defend us."