The Gilded Bride

There was gold everywhere in Norwasia. Gold threaded into curtains heavy enough to suffocate a person. Gold embroidered into gowns worn once before being discarded. Gold painted across ceilings so extravagantly that sunlight reflected from above like heaven itself had descended upon the palace. Visitors often called Norwasia the most beautiful kingdom in the continent. Princess Elowen thought it looked like a corpse decorated for burial. She stood silently beside the palace balcony, watching servants below unload another caravan of imported luxuries from the southern ports. Crates of perfumes. Exotic fruits. Silk from eastern empires. Jewel-encrusted mirrors taller than grown men. The servants strained beneath the weight while noblewomen nearby giggled over which ballroom the mirrors would suit best. Elowen’s gaze drifted farther beyond the palace gates. Past the marble fountains. Past the golden statues of former kings. Toward the city below. The capital still sparkled beautifully from afar, but if one looked carefully enough, the cracks became impossible to ignore. Market stalls sat emptier than they once had. Beggars gathered in alleyways more frequently now. Buildings near the outer districts remained unfinished because workers had stopped receiving payment months ago. But none of that mattered to the royal court. As long as the palace glittered, the kingdom could pretend it was thriving. “You’re brooding again.” Elowen turned at the familiar voice. Her younger sister entered the balcony like sunlight itself, wrapped in layers of pale blue silk that shimmered with sewn pearls. Princess Eleanor smiled sweetly enough to charm entire nations. People always described Eleanor as beautiful. They never described her correctly. Beauty implied softness. Eleanor was sharp glass hidden beneath lace gloves. “You should smile more,” Eleanor continued lightly, approaching the railing. “People already think you’re strange.” Elowen lowered her eyes. “I wasn’t aware my expression concerned the kingdom.” “Oh, everything concerns the kingdom when it comes to royalty.” Eleanor leaned closer with a quiet laugh. “Especially when Father is already disappointed in one daughter.” The words were soft. Careless. Cruel. Elowen had heard worse. Still, they settled painfully in her chest all the same. Eleanor glanced toward the servants unloading the caravans below. “Did you see the new chandeliers Mother ordered? They’re from Vesparia. Apparently each crystal was polished by hand.” Elowen stared at the workers carrying furniture worth more than entire villages. “We cannot afford them,” she said quietly. Eleanor sighed dramatically. “Must you always sound miserable?” “It isn’t misery. It’s truth.” “Oh please.” Eleanor waved a dismissive hand. “Norwasia is the richest kingdom in the world.” Elowen almost laughed. Rich kingdoms did not increase taxes three times within a single year. Rich kingdoms did not quietly sell farmland to foreign merchants. Rich kingdoms did not delay soldiers’ wages while hosting week-long festivals. But no one in court wanted truth. Truth ruined beautiful things. “You worry too much,” Eleanor said. “That is why no one likes speaking with you.” Before Elowen could answer, the balcony doors opened once more. “Eleanor!” Queen Vivienne swept into the balcony with excitement brightening her painted face. Several maids hurried behind her carrying ribbons, jewelry cases, and folded fabrics. “There you are, darling,” the queen said warmly, completely ignoring Elowen’s presence. “The jewelers have arrived for your fitting.” Eleanor beamed immediately. “Already?” “Yes, and they brought the diamond set from Orlais.” Queen Vivienne touched Eleanor’s cheek lovingly. “Only the finest for my precious girl.” Elowen remained motionless beside the railing. Unseen. Forgotten. She had grown accustomed to it years ago. The queen finally noticed her standing there and frowned faintly, as though surprised she existed at all. “Elowen,” she said after a pause. “You should prepare yourself as well. Important guests arrive next month.” “Yes, Mother.” “Though perhaps wear something less dreary this time.” Queen Vivienne’s gaze swept critically over Elowen’s plain cream dress. “You always look as though someone has died.” Something inside Elowen almost answered: The kingdom is dying. But she bit her tongue. Eleanor hid a smile behind her hand. The queen turned back immediately, attention returning solely to her favorite daughter. “Come, Eleanor. We must discuss your birthday celebration. Your father wishes this year to be unforgettable.” Of course he did. Last year’s celebration had already cost enough to feed thousands through winter. Elowen watched them disappear inside together. Mother and cherished daughter. Perfect queen and perfect princess. The balcony suddenly felt colder. “You should stop standing there like a ghost.” Elowen startled slightly at the new voice. Her older brother, Prince Cedric, leaned lazily against the doorway with wine already in hand despite the early hour. “You’ll frighten the servants,” he added. Elowen faced forward again. “I wasn’t aware they noticed me enough to be frightened.” Cedric snorted softly at that. Unlike Eleanor, Cedric rarely bothered hiding his selfishness beneath politeness. He cared for hunting, gambling, drinking, and little else. Matters of governance bored him entirely despite being heir to the throne. “You upset Eleanor again?” he asked. “I merely spoke.” “That usually does upset her.” Elowen glanced at him in surprise. Cedric noticed and shrugged. “What? I never claimed she was pleasant.” “She is your sister.” “So are you.” The words might have sounded meaningful if he had ever once acted like a brother to her. Cedric swirled his wine absently. “Father’s looking for you.” Elowen stiffened immediately. “Why?” “How should I know?” Cedric smirked faintly. “Perhaps he finally remembered he has another daughter.” He walked away before she could respond. Elowen remained still for several moments before forcing herself toward the throne hall. The corridors of the palace gleamed blindingly beneath chandeliers. Servants bowed as she passed, though many looked more exhausted than respectful. One maid carried fresh flowers while hiding bruised fingers beneath cloth wrappings. Another hurried by with torn shoes nearly separating at the soles. The palace consumed people. It consumed money. It consumed everything. And still it demanded more. By the time Elowen reached the throne hall, raised voices echoed from inside. “…another loan is impossible!” a man protested desperately. “You said that last season,” came King Charles’s irritated reply. Elowen slowed near the partially opened doors. Inside stood the royal treasurer, pale with sweat. “Your Majesty,” the treasurer continued shakily, “the treasury cannot sustain another festival of this scale. The southern mines produce less gold every month, taxes are failing, and,” King Charles slammed a goblet against the throne arm. “Then raise taxes again.” “The people are already struggling.” “They are peasants,” Charles snapped. “Struggle is their purpose.” Elowen felt sick. The treasurer hesitated carefully. “There are also concerns regarding the army’s unpaid wages.” “Then delay them.” “Your Majesty,” “I will not have Eleanor’s birthday diminished because incompetent fools cannot manage numbers!” Silence fell. Heavy. Terrible. The treasurer lowered his head immediately. “...Yes, Your Majesty.” Elowen stepped back before they could notice her listening. Her chest tightened painfully. The kingdom truly was collapsing. And no one intended to stop it. Not the king blinded by pride. Not the queen obsessed with appearances. Not Cedric drowning himself in indulgence. And certainly not Eleanor, sweet-faced Eleanor, who smiled while the kingdom starved so long as diamonds still adorned her throat. Far below the palace hill, church bells rang through the capital. Elowen looked toward the city once more. Toward the people who still believed their royal family would save them. A strange ache settled deep within her. Because she feared the truth more with every passing day. Norwasia was not merely weakening. It was doomed.