Chapter 6: Of Suitors, Spells, and Stifled Secrets
If there were an Olympic event for endurance, I would be standing on a podium by now — gilded crown askew, clutching a medal and a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.
When I stormed into my father's solar that morning, I had one goal: to make him stop sending me men who were, at best, theatrical disasters, enchanted rodents, and at worst... I don't even know what's worse than that.
He sat at his desk with the air of a man cataloguing the world's remaining problems — as if arranging marriages were merely a hobby. He looked up slowly when I closed the door behind me.
"Elyndravyssorathielindria," he said, "what are you doing here? You should be with your potential husbands."
I didn't bother with pleasantries. "Potential suitors who are not even worth the potential. Just stop with this nonsense."
He blinked once, then set his quill down with theatrical care. "It is not nonsense."
"It is nonsense. Stop with the suitors." My voice came out sharper than I'd intended. "They're absurd. They're dangerous to both my peace and mind."
He folded his hands together and regarded me like a scholar considering a stubborn theorem. "Absurd? These men are lords and heirs of the noblest houses. They hold lands, titles, and influence. They are not absurd."
"Then why did one of them bloom into a rodent in a silk doublet?" I snapped. "Why did another sob for his mother for twenty minutes in the stables? Why did a general call me a bad example of womanhood while mid-sip of his tea?" I could feel my temper unraveling into small, glittery threads.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You exaggerate the spectacle to entertain yourself."
"Exaggerate? So you mean this is on me?" I asked him.
"It is not on me. The men sent to you are the most sought-after men in the kingdom," he told me calmly.
"A rodent and a crybaby are the most sought-after men in the kingdom?" I asked in shock.
"Yes," he said calmly. "Surely you don't think I'd select the worst men in the kingdom for you, do you?"
"That's debatable because, from what I see, you aren't even doing the bare minimum," I told him.
"I am doing my best so you can uphold your duty as the princess."
"My duty is not a circus. At least do something good if you are going to be sending me potential suitors," I said to him.
"Like I said," he told me calmly, "the men you met with are the best."
"Well... I don't think they are. And if you think this or they are going to convince me to get married, then think again, Father," I told him.
"It is your duty!"
"To pick a suitable spouse, not someone who catfishes me."
"What is catfishing? Was that what you did today?" he asked me.
Oh, fuck it.
I sighed. "You know what, I'm done here. If you won't listen to me, then it's better I leave."
"Be my guest." He pointed toward the door.
I wished I could stick a stick up his nose, pick him up, and throw him out of the palace. How was it that he just wasn't listening? He was just so... dense.
"Fine," I said to him, even if I was still rooted to the ground, waiting to see if he'd change his mind and try to be a father and listen to me. But I should have known.
This man's thinking was as short as his fucking height, I swear.
"Fine," he said. "But before you go, what is this catfishing you spoke of?"
After everything I said, that's the only thing he listened to? That's the only thing he deemed important?
I groaned loudly and, without another word, like he suggested, I used the door.
I knew that there was nothing I said that could convince him. The next morning proved it. The list waiting in the antechamber read like a catalogue of creative misery: heirs with titles that looked like spells, a baron who insisted on reciting the family coat of arms in hexameter, and a man who had a cockatoo that he claimed was his political advisor.
So I adapted.
If the court would not relent, I would apply my small magics in ways that were educational for the suitors and merciful for myself.
I began with the truth serum, just like I had done with the general. Lord Arven of the Crimson Crest toasted my beauty and bravery and then — ten heartbeats later — confessed his love for his horse. I kid you not, he was in love with his horse. At least he knew how to ride one.
He fled in shame when the secret was exposed.
Another suitor — a name I do not remember — was always checking himself out in the mirror even while speaking with me, so I used a transformation spell and turned him into the best version of himself — a frog.
I used levitation when the boastful men leaned too far into bravery. I did it to scare them a little bit because they claimed nothing could scare them. It's not my fault they lied.
I made chairs rise while we were speaking, goblets hover in the air, and made a napkin float and slap him across the face — politely, of course. Guess who ran out saying there were ghosts in the tea room? The so-called brave warrior.
It was, admittedly, theatrical. But there was genius in it too: the kingdom's bachelors began to evaluate their own merit before presenting themselves. The guards began placing wagers on how quickly a man would bolt. Vaelory hovered at my shoulder and shrieked each time I sent a spouse running.
"Your Highness!" she'd whisper, aghast. "People are saying you're cursed!"
"Good," I'd reply. "Let them say it."
While the palace learned to fear my tea hour, I began to haunt the only sanctuary the court could not rearrange: the Great Library.
The Library of Aelthryn swallowed hours like a patient beast. Shelves rose like city walls; ladders moved on their own; scrolls smelled of smoke and stardust. My goal was to find something that had no business being buried in polite conversation: demons.
Vaelory spoke about them with fear, and I just needed to know why. There was literally nothing about demons in the library though. It was like everything regarding them was scrubbed clean, and I didn't want to alert the keeper of the library, lest they have the same reaction Vaelory had.
Finally, behind a tangle of maps, I discovered a thin volume bound in cracked charcoal leather. There was no title on the spine. The pages inside were brittle and smelled of smoke. The book was called The Veiled Abyss.
The content was not what I was expecting. It was short with very little detail.
There were lists: succubi, incubi, lesser fiends. There were rules — cryptic warnings about contracts and seals. Only one entry hinted at something grander: Zorathys Vaelkyrion — three words inked in dense black that looked like a burn mark on the paper. The text only named him the demon king and warned that one should beware.
There were no sigils, no portraits, no history. Pages were cut, references blotted, entire sections burnt away as though some archivist had been ordered to remove every face and footnote. It was like they wanted to hide the information.
Well... not that I cared. There must be a reason why they wanted to hide it, after all, and it was better I stayed clear of stuff like that if I wanted to attain my peaceful life.
I made sure not to research the demons again. Weeks blurred and the suitors did not reduce — instead, they increased. I made them flee; many cried for their mothers. I healed one suitor's erectile dysfunction... don't ask me how I got to find out about it. It was a conversation, and he was sad, so I helped him out.
As the suitors increased, so did their ages and their ridiculousness. One of them had syphilis, and he had the mind to even approach me.
Seek help first. Treat it first, please.
It was midday when my father burst into my room, after I'd sent the last of the suitors away for the day — because yes, we had a schedule. I entertained suitors for two hours, and anyone who didn't get the opportunity to meet me within that time frame had to come at another time, maybe earlier.
Perhaps I should have turned this into a business after all. Anyone who wanted to see me had to drop a specific amount... hmm, that doesn't sound so bad at all.
But I'm not sure that's going to happen, because my father was staring at me with a furious look in his eyes.
"Elyndravyssorathielindria."
I stared at him.
"What," he demanded, "is going on?"
Oh? It seems he was now ready to speak with me.