“So, let me get this straight,” the prince said, eyebrows coming together as he leaned forward in his stone throne and looked Bianca straight in the eye. “You’re Princess Bianca Frostine?”

  She nodded.

  The prince’s face broke into a smile that seemed to spread joviality throughout his whole body, even his feet. When he smiled, his teeth were perfect, white, straight, and gleaming. When the smile reached his eyes, he seemed to radiate warmth, like the sun was rising behind him. It made the empty throne room come alive as if there were subjects in the room laughing and clapping with him. In actuality, it wasn’t just him and Bianca looking at each other across the empty space.

  “I suppose you’ve heard of me,” she recognized, her words clipped in the echoing room.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of Princess Bianca Frostine,” he said, letting his elbow rest on the armrest as he cradled his chin in his palm. “Yes. The last I heard of Bianca Frostine, she was being introduced at court. I was supposed to attend the ball welcoming her into adult society, but alas, it was not to be. I never met her.”

  “You’re talking about me like I’m not here,” Bianca observed, seeing at once that he did not believe her. That was why he was laughing so hard.

  “You may be Princess Bianca Frostine,” he said, his voice laced in dissatisfaction. “I’m left to assume you are not a figment of my imagination. If I were imagining a woman, I certainly wouldn’t have imagined you.”

  She stared at him, aghast. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if I were imagining a woman, I would have conjured someone a little easier on the eyes,” he said frankly.

  “I am the fairest in the land!” Bianca insisted firmly.

  He started laughing again. “Of course, you are. Fair means white, and you certainly are white. So very white that if you are a real person, and not a ghost, the castle mistook you for a spirit and let you through the magical barriers that keep me imprisoned. Real people are not allowed in here.”

  She glanced around, suddenly terrified. “Why?”

  His laughter slowed. “I am cursed.”

  “Cursed? How?”

  “To live here in this castle, alone, so no one can see my beauty,” he said, his voice and expression strange and wild.

  Bianca looked across the space between them and, though she was not overly impressed by his manners, she was not repelled by them because he was the handsomest man she had ever seen—no word of a lie. On closer inspection, it was because he was better than handsome. It was like the beauty spot of every man she had ever seen was present in him. His lips had unusual corners, so that when he smiled, his strong white canines were first observed. As her eyes traveled to his nose, she noted it was remarkable as well, boasting cartilage in angles both in the tip and in the nostrils that were incredibly impressive. Bianca had never thought a man’s nostrils attractive before. It was especially marvelous when he put his head back to laugh. His eyes tilted up at the corners. The color of his eyes was undetectable at that distance, but the shape was magnificent, shrouded by perfect dark eyebrows that had not been overly tamed by a pair of tweezers. His hair was a healthy chestnut that fell in wild, wonderful tangles around his face, ears, and neck. It was just as well that his hair covered his ears, as they were probably perfect too. Bianca had never seen perfect ears, but his were probably flawless. His cheeks were tan with freckles dusting his nose bridge in a way that should have made him look childish, but next to his angular features, they only served to make him look completely devastating to the woman observing him. Yet, even with everything Bianca had already seen in him, nothing undid her quite the way his jaw, throat, and collarbone did. His cravat was undone, the lace spilling down one side of his chest, and she realized she had never seen a man leave so many buttons undone before, and having it be someone as attractive as him was making her cheeks rise in color.

  He had been lounging, expecting no visitors, so he hadn’t done them up.

  Bianca was about to turn her face away to hide the rosiness when he spoke again. “I have never in my life seen a woman whose face is as white as yours. No wonder the castle thought you were dead. I think you’re dead.”

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn’t noticed her blush. “Did a witch curse you?” she questioned sharply.

  “I didn’t know she was a witch,” he said, rising from the throne, removing his crown, and placing it on the seat. As he stood, he was not as tall as she expected. What was glorious about his frame was the proportion of his legs versus his body. Most men were either all leg or all torso.

  The Prince stepped on the long red carpet. It was the only extravagance in a room made almost entirely of bare stone.

  “She was a princess,” he continued, almost like an actor reciting a monologue. “Her name was Rose Trine.”

  “The Three Roses? I’ve heard of her,” Bianca interjected.

  “What have you heard of her?”

  “That she married Prince Tristram of Olrich.”

  “I’m Prince Tristram of Olrich!” he exclaimed. “When? When did she marry me?”

  “A little under a year ago. The rumor is that you and she are so in love you don’t ever leave your bed.”

  The color drained from his face. “So, no one is looking for me? No one is trying to break this spell?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Do you know how to break the spell?” Bianca asked, always on the lookout for clues as to how to break curses.

  Tristram was beginning to panic. “I don’t know. If I had any idea, I’d have spent these months working it out. Wouldn’t you?”

  Bianca nodded.

  He turned to her suddenly. “Why are you here?” Then, before waiting for her answer, he suddenly pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  She took it and held it taut between her fingers, confused. “What’s this for?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  He looked away, embarrassed. “For your mouth.”

  Bianca dropped the kerchief like it had wings and could fly away, but instead it only floated noiselessly to the floor. “I don’t need to wipe my mouth,” she replied saucily.

  “But the blood...”

  “Yes,” she interrupted impatiently. “My lips are red as blood. Naturally red as blood. I can wipe them all day, and they will still be red as blood.”

  “But why?” he asked, confused.

  “Because I’m cursed!” she exclaimed. “When my mother died, she died giving birth to me. It was her dying wish that I would have hair as black as onyx, skin as white as frost, and lips as red as blood. She thought it was a blessing, and when you’re the fairest in the land, you tend to think it’s a blessing too, but apparently, you take one step out of Forest Spire, and suddenly, you’re a dead person.”

  “Well, maybe not entirely dead,” Tristram said, looking at her sideways. “I did think you had recently eaten something that was alive.”

  She glared at him. He was the second prince of Sun Vine, meaning that his tan was very healthy. He practically shone.

  “I’m here because stuff happened,” she said, finally answering his question. “Bad stuff happened.”

  “And you died?” he asked, solemnly.

  She put her fingers to her temples. “You are unbelievable. I’m not dead! I’m just white.”

  “Do you need anything? Medical attention? Is that why you came in here? To look for help?”

  “Yes, I need help, but I’m not hurt!!”

  “What do you need?”

  She looked around. “I need a place to hide… for an indeterminate length of time.”

  For a moment, Tris looked in every direction except at her, his gaze darting about the room as if he wasn’t exactly sure how to answer. He looked at the kerchief she had dropped on the floor like he didn’t know how it got there. He clenched his jaw as though he was about to do something he didn’t like.

  Bianca waited, perhaps just as puzzled as he was.

  Finally, as though he was finished making up his mind, he put his hand out and briefly touched her arm. Relief rushed through him.

  “Were you afraid I wasn’t real?” Bianca asked.

  “Yes,” he admitted bashfully. “I’ve been alone here for months. Who’s to say I haven’t gone mad?”

  “You haven’t gone mad… Probably,” she said, extending her hand and taking his hand in hers.

  Suddenly, remembering he was a prince and she was a princess, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her middle knuckle the way he had been taught to kiss hands at court. Both of them were surprised by the sensations they experienced. She was surprised that his kiss was so warm. He was surprised that her skin was so cold.

  Tris raised himself up and continued with an official greeting. “Well, since you managed to get in here, hooray. You are most welcome. You may stay as long as you wish. I’m not one to put my nose up at a visitor, even if she looks like she’s been dead three months. Welcome!”

  Bianca glared at him. “Take me to the kitchen, please.”

  ***

  To her surprise, Tristram did not take her to the kitchen but instead took her to the dining hall, where a steaming feast was arrayed on the table. Bianca looked from the roasted turkey, to the cheese plates, to the fruit, to the pastries, to the wine.

  “This is all enchanted. What are we really eating?” she asked gravely.

  “I don’t know. All I know is that if I don’t eat it, I go hungry, and if I do eat it, I feel full. You’re right, though, even though it looks like this, even though it smells like this, it doesn’t exactly feel good to eat it. You don’t eat this food for fun. You eat it to stop from dying.”

  “Do you think Rose Trine put anything in it?” Bianca asked skeptically as she reached for a piece of sliced baguette.

  “I’ve put a lot of thought into this food,” he said, looking at it seriously. “More than anything, I think it’s intended to make me trust her, because there’s nothing poisonous or mind-altering about it. I also think it’s not very good, so that I don’t get fat while subsisting off it.”

  “What does she want?” Bianca asked slowly, placing a slice of cheese on the piece of bread.

  “She wants me to marry her, obviously. Apparently, she’s already told the whole world that we are married, and so she’ll undoubtedly keep me here until I agree to marry her.”

  “Has she been here often to convince you?”

  “Not once. It’s been nine or ten months, you say? Yeah, I haven’t seen her.”

  Bianca lifted the food to her mouth. It smelt like heaven, like the bread had just come out of the oven and the cheese was warming on the top. It even felt warm in her hand, but when she put it in her mouth, it felt cold and flavorless, not exactly repellent, but not what her nose and fingers had promised her.

  “What do you know about her?” Tris asked, suddenly pulling out a chair for Bianca and helping her to sit.

  The Princess cleared her mouth of the bread and said, “She’s cursed. There was a rumor that her mother, the Queen of Sap Stone, couldn’t conceive, even though she’d tried everything. Have you heard this rumor?”

  “No,” he said, taking a seat and drawing it closer to Bianca to listen eagerly. “I don’t hear lady gossip.”

  “Pity,” Biance said, raising her eyebrows. “It’s a crazy good story. They say she has three fathers.”

  Tristram snorted. “A person can’t have three fathers.”

  “Yeah, but they say she does. They say she has a personality disorder that can’t be cured because each one of her three fathers’ spirits rages in her. One is the King of Sap Stone. He’s a...”

  “Warmonger,” Tris finished for her. “I am familiar with his work.”

  “Oh,” Bianca said, quieting down. She didn’t want to ask exactly what that entailed. What war had the prince seen? Sap Stone was on the other side of Sun Vine from Forest Spire. Her people rarely had anything to do with Rose Trine’s.

  “Go on,” the prince prompted.

  “The second father was a magician named Staggard, the Proud. Probably where she learned how to lock you up magically, he’s famous in my palace because he made a magical artifact for my stepmother—a mirror. It’s a fabulous conversationalist. My stepmother talks to it for hours.”

  “Did you ever talk to it?” Tris wondered.

  “I used to, but I had to stop. It always licked its lips whenever I walked by. It really bothered me even to look at it. It doesn’t have eyes, only a mouth, and its tongue would drip saliva that burned the marble flooring under it. They had to import a rubber mat to put under it. Anyway, it behaved very differently when it talked to my stepmother, Angelique. Then, its lips are drawn tight, and its refinement knows no bounds. It is practically her only adviser.” Bianca paused. “Rose Trine’s last father was a priest for the Demon God, Tigrix.”

  “That’s unusual,” Tristram commented.

  “Why?”

  “They don’t worship Tigrix in Sap Stone the way we do in Sun Vine. He’s a lesser god to them, only one of many, and nowhere near as important to them as Taurus or Spideck.”

  “Still, that’s what I was told. Rose Trine has three personalities: one of a monarch, one of a witch, and one of a nun.”

  Tristram snorted. “You know that worshipers of Tigrix are not celibate? They worship a feline god. They’re almost as into reproduction as bunnies.”

  “So, you don’t like the word nun?”

  “No. Priestess is a better word, but she can’t be much of one if I’ve never heard of her in that capacity.”

  “Why would you have heard of her? Are you a priest?” Bianca chirped, since he was being so candid.

  “Hmm,” Tris said blankly, almost like he wasn’t listening to her. He drummed his fingers on the table. “And now, I need you to tell me your story, Bianca.”

  She knew what his problem was, why he was suddenly asking so seriously. It was because he had had no visitors in almost a year, because he had been alone in the empty castle for so long, and the only person who knew he was there was Rose Trine. He needed Bianca to prove to him that she was who she said she was and in no way in league with his captor.

  Bianca loaded up her plate with the offerings in front of her because she still didn’t feel full. He filled a goblet for her, and she began to tell her story.