A Queen Unchained

Victoria Halstead woke with the odd certainty that if she did not leave her bed in the next ten seconds, she would lose her mind. The room was lovely in a distant sort of way. Pink drapes, soft candlelight, a vanity her mother claimed was imported from Italy, and the faint perfume of roses someone had arranged in a vase on the table. Everything looked like it belonged to a girl who was about to become the Duchess of Ravenshore. Everything except Victoria herself.

She lay still for a moment, staring at the embroidered canopy above her, and let out a slow breath. Her wedding was tomorrow morning. To Lord Cedric Ravenshore. A man so painfully polite she often wondered if he practiced courtesy as a sport. A man who smiled like someone had painted the expression on his face. A man who kissed her hand as if it were a fragile biscuit.

The entire kingdom of Aveloria was buzzing about their union. Her mother had called it the most strategic match of the decade. Her father had nodded proudly. Victoria had smiled the way well raised young ladies were supposed to smile. In truth, she had felt absolutely nothing except a quiet voice inside her head whispering, this is not your life.

She sat up slowly. The silk sheets slipped off her legs, cool against her skin. Her nightdress rustled softly as she swung her feet over the side of the bed. She had always liked nights. They were honest. They did not require small talk or polite smiles or the careful posture of a proper duchess in training. During the day she was a masterpiece of etiquette. At night she was simply Victoria, the girl who used to sneak into the stables, read adventure tales under candlelight, and dream of running away on a horse faster than her mother's complaints.

She rubbed her face with both hands and mumbled under her breath, "I need air before I start screaming."

She slipped her feet into soft slippers and pushed open the balcony doors. The night air greeted her like an old friend. Cool, crisp, gently scented with the pine forest that surrounded Halstead Manor. The moon hung low and heavy, almost too bright. It lit up the grounds in a silver glow that made everything look softer and freer.

Victoria leaned on the railing and let her shoulders drop. "You know," she whispered to the night, "I would very much like a sign. Something clear. Something that tells me I am not insane for wanting more than a polite husband and a title with too many syllables."

The night did not reply, which was rude, in her opinion.

She stayed outside for a while, watching the guards patrol the grounds, listening to the wind rustle the leaves. She tried to imagine tomorrow. The ceremony. The vows. The kiss. The life that would follow.

She tried, and failed.

Finally, she turned to go back inside. As she moved, her eyes