Page 2 of Caroline the Cruel
The patter of footsteps drew the man’s attention. Her father lifted his head in the girls’ direction as they approached, the start of a grin was replaced by a deep frown. He ran his sturdy hand through the spiky mop that sat atop Caroline’s head.
“Oh, sweetheart, what have you done with your beautiful hair?” He sighed, resigned to the antics of children.
Both Caroline and the king had loved her hair. He had told her one night after they had read stories that her hair was exactly like her mother’s. A shiny, almost iridescent black, long and stick straight. Heavy, beautiful hair that seemed to absorb all the light and attention it received. It was the one thing that had made her feel pretty, special even. And now it was gone.
Caroline’s lip trembled as new tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to tell on Emmaline in the past, but the other girl’s mother always came to the rescue. It was no use.
“Oh, don’t cry, my darling. It will grow back,” the king soothed, petting his daughter.
“But what about the ball tonight?” Caroline brought quaking fingers up to her forehead.
“I suppose we’ll have to get you a lovely bonnet,” the king teased, testing the resilience of his youngest daughter.
A small grin cracked across Caroline’s face before she fell into a giggling fit with her father.
Emmy, who had been quietly observing them, huffed, and stormed out of the training yard.
Chapter 2
Caroline’sprideswelled,makingher chest full. Another year had passed with no conflict between Everstal, her father’s kingdom, and Veetula, the frozen kingdom to the north. The peace ball represented everything good her father was, the event marking the fifteenth year since King Thom Dallimore had ended the centuries long conflict between the two enemies. No one had believed it possible and now each spring, either Everstal or Veetula would host the other for a full week of gaming, drinking, feasting, and dancing.
It was their turn to host, and while it was typical for the red castle to be covered in roses, for this event Queen Cerise brought in crates of different flowers, fruits and vegetables and commissioned sculptures to be made with the bounty. She was even invited to help, but Caroline decided decorating wasn’t her thing. Not that she was going to rebuff the rare kind gesture from the queen.
Caroline almost bumped into a topiary that wasn’t usually there. Roskide was in full bloom. She circled the statue plucking a strawberry from a live vine and sunk her teeth into the ripe end. Bright sweetness burst into her mouth mirroring the rush of giddy flutters that lifted her spirits, almost making her forget about her hideous hair.
Caroline tried to catalogue who would be in attendance and which royals would be missing. She would make her father proud and represent Everstal well, even though she was the bastard princess.
Agna, their queen, had four children. Twin girls, Lissa and Leeza, and Natalia, who were married off to princes from far away kingdoms Caroline couldn’t pronounce. A fifteen-year-old son, the heir, Jaden, who was rumored to be just as dashing as the other men in the Ivanslohe line, never attended for ‘security reasons’, which she supposed made sense. And the fertile queen expected another child within months. Carrying a child to full term at her age was a delicate thing, so she was excused.
That left King Hollis in attendance, along with his younger brother, Prince Breicher, and several royal cousins and other important men and women and their families whose names weren’t important. Caroline had only gotten brief glances at them, but the rumors had been true. With their blazing sapphire eyes, an Ivanslohe trait which could be seen from across the room, their rugged features, and tall, broad stature, they seemed like warrior princes from a storybook. Butterflies danced in her stomach. One day, she might meet Jaden Ivanslohe, the handsome prince, who was only a year older than her. And since her father had united their Kingdoms, who knew? Maybe one day one of those blue-eyed royals would sweep her off her feet.
Caroline tapped her toes anxiously, unable to stand still as she and Emmy waited on their parents. It was the first time they were allowed to attend the festivities, which culminated in the glamorous dance in Roskide’s Great Hall set to open in less than an hour.
Emmy was on the dancefloor, preening before an invisible gentleman, who’d apparently asked her to dance as she was now twirling in his invisible arms. The queen had gone all out for Emmy’s attire, having Everstal’s finest dressmaker customize a multi-layered, red, chiffon gown befitting a sixteen-year-old princess. Twisted flourishes and sashes adorned the monstrosity. It was supposed to bear a resemblance to one of the thousands of crimson roses that were scattered about Roskide and the surrounding villages, but Caroline thought Emmy looked more like a melting cake.
With each step, Emmy’s tightly coiled blonde locks bounced. When she finally ended the dance, she swayed over to Caroline and tugged her wrist. “Come on, Cara. Your hair is fine. The guests will be here soon!” she whined. “Don’t you want to dance with me?”
“You were doing fine without me,” Caroline said, reaching up to her shorn hair, which her attendant had battled with a curling wand for over an hour earlier. Her stick-straight hair had finally submitted, and the tuffs bowed into each other in submission. At least she was still able to wear the silver rose pins her father had gifted her.
“Stop touching it. You’re going to make it worse.” Emmy swatted Caroline’s hand away from her damaged mop.
“I think Alma singed the ends,” Caroline groaned.
“I told you, you should have left it spiky. It was rather interesting that way at least.”
“It looked like I’d been struck by lightning.”
“Mother says I should apologize. She said a woman’s hair is an important part of their identity.” Emmy fingered a shiny blonde curl. “So, I guess I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
Emmy’s eyes bulged and watered, and her lip gave a little practiced quiver. Caroline had seen her rehearse her apologies and the mock sweetness she delivered them with in the mirror loads of times. She still couldn’t hold a grudge for long, though. Caroline always ended up forgiving Emmy. They were sisters, after all.
“It’s fine, Emmy. It will grow back,” she said, frowning.
“It will.” A self-satisfied smirk crossed Emmy’s face.
The way her sister could get away with anything grated on Caroline, but she did her best to plaster a fake smile across her face. It was just hair. She should brush it off as casually as Emmy did and not let it get to her.
Emmy perked up. “Good. Oh, see what they’ve made for us!” She dragged Caroline on the dais where two smaller thrones were sitting adjacent to the king and queens, the latter who’d entered from a discrete door behind the podium.
