Princess Esme had obeyed her whole life. She curtsied, she smiled, she learned six dances and three languages. Tonight her mother wanted her to pick a husband from a room of strangers, and for the first time Esme did not think she could do it. She sat on her bed with an open book. The lovers on the page had met in a garden and known each other for years before they wed. Esme touched the words with one finger. Outside her tower window, torches lit the courtyard of Aurelia Spire Castle. Carriages rolled through the gates. Every one carried a prince she had never spoken to. The door opened. Queen Margaux swept in, her black hair pinned tight, her gold-laced sleeves brushing the floor. She was the woman who had kept Esme inside these walls since she was a child. Esme both loved her and feared her quiet, certain voice. "Tonight we have invited every eligible prince to meet you," the Queen said. "You will dance. You will choose." She laid a new gown for Esme on the bed. "Your father has waited long enough for this, you should have been wed at eighteen, you’re twenty two ." Esme closed the book. Her hands shook. "Mother, I don't know any of them." "You will know them by morning." Queen Margaux smoothed the puffed sleeves flat. "I did not know your father either. I learned to love him. That is how it is done." "That is not how I want it done." The words came out before Esme could stop them. She had never once argued. The Queen turned, her dark eyes wide, as if a chair had spoken. "Esme." "I want what's in my books." Esme stood. Her voice grew steady. "I want to choose a man I already love. Not a stranger you picked from a list." For a moment neither of them moved. Downstairs, music began to play. Queen Margaux studied her daughter's face. Something in it made her set down the gown. "You will come down," the Queen said at last. "You will dance with every one of them.“ Esme let out a breath she had held for years. "As you wish Mother" The Queen did not turn around she simply left Esme. Esme looked down at the gown on the bed. This was not what she wanted but she had to try.

Esme stared at the gown her mother had left. She would obey and go down. But she would not wear this. She crossed to her wardrobe and pushed the dresses aside. Near the back hung one she had chosen herself years ago, a red gown with puffed sleeves that slipped off the shoulders. Her mother had never seen her in it. Esme pulled it on. She stepped into red slippers and painted her lips red. One choice. It was small, but it was hers. She went down the stairs. The ballroom of Aurelia Spire Castle opened before her, its pale stone walls bright with torchlight. Music filled the air. Dozens of princes turned to watch her enter. Esme stopped and looked for her parents. King Theo sat on the raised throne, his dark robes heavy, the white streak in his hair catching the light. He was the man who had waited years for this night. Beside him stood Queen Margaux, her gold-laced sleeves folded, her eyes fixed on Esme's borrowed-back gown. Esme crossed the floor and bowed to them both. "You changed the dress," the Queen said quietly. "I did." Esme lifted her chin. "But I came down. I will dance, as you asked." King Theo leaned forward. He studied the red gown, then his daughter's steady face. Esme braced for his anger. Instead the corner of his mouth moved. "She looks like a Princess," he told the Queen. "Let her dance." Queen Margaux said nothing. She gave a small nod. Esme read it as permission, and something more careful behind her mother's eyes. Esme turned to the floor. She smiled and offered her hand to the first prince who bowed. He led her into the dance. He spoke of his hunting dogs and never asked her name. When the song ended, another prince took his place. This one boasted of his gold. The next stepped only where the music told him to, saying nothing at all. One by one they came. Esme danced with every prince in the room. She turned, she curtsied, she smiled the smile she had practiced her whole life. Her feet ached in the red slippers. She searched each face for the thing her books had promised. She found only strangers. The music slowed. Esme stood alone in the center of the floor, breathing hard. She had done exactly what her mother wanted. She had danced with all of them. And not one had stirred the feeling she came for. Her mother watched from the throne, waiting for a choice. Esme understood now that dancing would never give her that choice. She would need to find a love elsewhere.

Esme slipped out of the ballroom. The music faded behind the pale stone walls of the castle. She crossed the courtyard and found a stone bench near the garden wall. She sat and pressed her sore feet flat. She had danced with every prince and felt nothing. Her mother wanted a choice tonight. Esme had none to give. She stared at her red slippers and wondered how she would ever find the love her books described. A voice broke the quiet. "I am late." Esme looked up. A young prince stood at the edge of the garden. His hair was slicked back, neat and dark. He wore traditional royal garments trimmed in gold. He smiled and spread his hands like a man caught in a joke. "I missed every dance. Now I find the one worth finding sitting alone in the dark." Esme did not smile back. "The dancing is over." "Good." He sat beside her without asking. "I hate dancing. Everyone spins and boasts and says nothing." He tilted his head toward her. "I am Conrad. Youngest of three brothers. Which means I inherit nothing at all." The honesty caught her off guard. Every other prince had bragged. Conrad shrugged at his own small place in the world. Esme found herself listening. "You left the ball too," he said. "Why?" "I was tired of strangers." "So was I." He looked at the dark garden, not at her. "They all wanted a princess. I wanted a person. There is a difference." He said it simply, as if it cost him nothing. Esme's chest tightened. He had named the exact thing she longed for. She thought of the men in her books, the ones who saw the woman and not the crown. For nineteen years she had waited to hear a man say those words. Now one sat beside her in the cool night air. What she could not see was how carefully Conrad chose each word. He watched her face for every small reaction. He said what she wanted and buried what he wanted. He was the youngest of three. He would never rule his own house. But a princess had a kingdom, and a kingdom needed a king. He hid that hunger behind an easy smile. "Tell me your name," he said. "Esme." "Esme." He repeated it like it mattered. "May I sit with you a while? No dancing. Just talk." She should have gone inside. Instead she nodded. "A while." Conrad settled back against the wall, pleased. Esme did not notice the pleasure. She felt only relief, sharp and warm, that someone had finally spoken the words she waited for. She smiled at him, the first true smile of the night. She had come to the garden with no choice to make. She left it with her heart bent toward a man who had said exactly what she wished to hear. She had found her prince. She did not know she had found her next danger.

Four weeks had passed since the night in the garden. Conrad stayed at the castle the whole time. He walked with Esme in the courtyard. He read beside her in the library. He said the words she wanted, and she believed each one. This morning she chose her favorite crimson gown, the one with sleeves that hung off her shoulders. Today Conrad had asked to speak with her parents. Esme did not know why. She only knew her heart felt light. She found him in the throne room. Conrad stood before King Theo and Queen Margaux, hands clasped, head bowed just enough. His slicked hair caught the light. He wore his gold-trimmed garments like a man who belonged there. When he saw Esme, he smiled the smile she trusted. She did not see the cold thing behind his eyes. She saw only the prince who wanted a person, not a crown. "Your Majesties," Conrad said. "I came to your court with nothing. The youngest of three brothers. No lands. No title of my own." He let the words hang. "I ask for nothing but your daughter's hand. I would give up everything I have, which is little, to stand beside her." King Theo leaned forward. His crown glinted, red gems bright. He had judged many suitors and thrown one out in chains. He watched Conrad now with narrow eyes. But Conrad had spent four weeks learning the king. He knew Theo distrusted men who wanted the crown. So Conrad pretended to want none. "You claim no ambition," King Theo said. "I claim only love," Conrad answered. He turned to Esme. "Ask her." Esme's chest tightened. She thought of the men in her books. She thought of a month of gentle words. "He speaks the truth, Father," she said. "He never asked about the kingdom. Only about me." Queen Margaux studied the young prince. She had pushed Esme toward strangers before. Now her daughter stood glowing beside one. Margaux touched the king's arm. "She has never looked at anyone this way," she said softly. King Theo was quiet a long moment. Then his hard face eased. "A man who wants my daughter and not my throne is rare," he said. "You have my blessing." Conrad bowed low. "Thank you, Your Majesty." "We will hold the wedding in one month," the queen said, already smiling. "There is much to prepare." Esme's breath caught. She crossed the floor and took Conrad's hand. He squeezed her fingers and met her eyes. For one second his smile slipped. She saw something flat and hungry beneath it, gone before she could name it. Then his warm mask returned. Esme thought maybe she was just anxious. "One month," Conrad said. "I can wait one month." Esme laughed and took Conrad’s hand.