𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

ততততত

𝐈 𝐌 𝐎 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍

"Is it too tight?" the seamstress asks, her eyes lifting to the mirror to meet mine.

It feels like she just trapped my lungs in a box and locked it with a key, suffocating every living breath from me. Today, of all the bloody days of the week, is the day in which I have to get fitted into my wedding gown by Dauphine, a woman who clearly has thin patience and is just here to do her job. This fitting is nothing that I want to do. No matter how extravagant and gorgeous the satin and lace gown is—golden threads, diamonds, and an endless train—it won't change how much I dread the wedding day to Leighton.

More so, last night's rendezvous with Tobin has me off guard. He was drunk out of his wits, and I would've cut off his supply if I'd known how disheveled he'd become. He'd blackout at times, and I knew his senses would return when he called my name in a tired confused moan: Imogen?

Does he remember calling me his wife? A woman he intends to marry despite the betrothal that would bring the lands to a ceasefire?

He hailed the most ludicrous idea from his lips. The elixir. He wants me to drink the elixir to prevent pregnancy, because he wants to do what husbands and wives do behind bedroom doors. The desire beneath his skin put me on edge, because I couldn't let him steal me when I knew he'd regret his actions in daylight. It's why I demanded to go home, to get away from the temptation of the man standing before me. Half-naked. Scarred. Sunkissed. Perfection.

Yet, the thought of making love to Tobin doesn't frighten me as it should. In fact, the amount of dreams that plague me in the night are more than I can count, considering the occurrence becomes common. He's always there, even when he's not. Most of the time, he's bare to the buttocks.

"Imogen?" Dauphine tugs at the ribbons once more, and I gasp at the sensation.

"It needs to be loosened," I manage to squeak, to which the seamstress obeys.

Elena assists with Dauphine, holding out the endless train of my gown behind me, smoothing out any folds or wrinkles developing in the satin fabric.

Dauphine sets her hands on her hips. "So? What do you think?"

This dress looks like it was regurgitated from hell and vomited straight onto my body. It's gorgeous, but considering my circumstances, it diminishes its beauty.

I swallow my pride and force a smile. "It's beautiful, Dauphine."

In the reflection of the mirror, I can see Elena smirk at my blatant lie. She knows better than anyone in this castle that I refuse to marry Leighton, and yet do it so willingly in order to protect my kingdom. Still, with just under two months until the wedding, I need to come up with a plan.

Elena clears her throat. "I think the princess has had enough of these alterations. It just needs to be taken out a bit, right?"

"Yes, it appears that way," Dauphine frowns as she glances at Elena. She's not done with the fitting, but Elena and I clearly are. "Let me see if I have any extra fabric. Wait here for a moment."

I nod my head. At this point, I'd do anything to get Dauphine out of this room with this dress, but it appears I'm imprisoned in it until Dauphine can find the extra material. Fortunately, she exits my bedroom chamber, leaving me alone with Elena.

I suck in a heavy breath, my body fighting against the resistance of the satin and corset beneath. "Gods, get me out of this goddamn thing."

"Just remember this isn't your true wedding gown," Elena meets my gaze in the reflection of the mirror. "This won't be a true marriage."