Songbird's Cage

Chapter 1

Lark braced herself against the tightening of her bodice. She was staring numbly ahead while servants rushed around her. Someone was twisting her deep brown hair, pinning it up against the crown of her head. Gold ribbons were being wrapped around her forearms. She couldn't breathe against the corset.

"I'm going to be sick," she muttered.

"I think you'll survive."

She started, looking up. A blond young man was leaned against the wall by the door, his arms crossed. He wore the uniform of the palace guard, a sword at his hip. A cocky smile played about his lips. Lark reddened at the tremendous inappropriateness of a man in her dressing chambers.

"Who are you?" she demanded, straightening as her servants drew her gown around her shoulders. "Why are you here?"

He bowed gracefully.

"Rory," he said. "At your service. I was assigned as your personal guard."

She turned her back to him.

"You shouldn't be in my chambers."

"I was told not you leave you."

Lark closed her eyes. She couldn't breathe, and didn't have the patience to fight him. Nausea rose in her throat as her attention went back to her servants and what they were preparing her for. A gold circlet was nestled in her hair, and a diamond and gold necklace was clasped around her throat. She was beautiful, and it made her want to be sick.

She'd fought against this day since the marriage had been arranged. Lark had been in her eleventh year when she'd been formally betrothed to the Prince of Esaria. Her family was incredibly wealthy, making her an easy choice for the royal line, and her father had jumped at the opportunity for power. But the idea of marrying someone she'd never met, never even seen before, was horrifying to her. She didn't even know what he looked like or how old he was. Though she too was Esarian, most of her life had been spent in the neighboring kingdom of Hidel. Her voice even carried hints of their accent.

"The prince gave me a message for you," Rory said, still leaning against the wall as he gazed at her. She looked back at him, her stomach fluttering in anticipation.

"He said that you needed to remember who and what you are," he said. "And that you are his duty. He is not obligated to you, nor you to him. He said that you are a pawn."

Her hope came crashing down. Lark wanted the prince to love her, to care for her. It was silly and childish, a petty dream for someone like her, but she wanted to be wanted. But that wasn't her job - her duty was to bear children for the future king.

She gripped the table. The servants finished lacing her gown. Heavy jewels hung from her ears. Her family's signet ring was on her finger. Gold dripped from her throat, from her waist, from the strands woven into her hair. She had everything in the world, everything but happiness.

"I'm sorry," Rory said quietly. "What he said to you was wrong. But his heart lies elsewhere, and all of Esaria knows it."

"I didn't ask for this," she swore, slamming her palm against the table. "I didn't ask to marry a man I've never met."

Lark stared ahead, collecting herself.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "This is my duty. This is who I am."

She turned away from the young man, and her veil, her final ornament, was placed over her circlet and her hair, masking her face.

"I'm ready now," she lied. Her gown was heavy as she moved towards the door. A servant there placed a small, heavy chest in her waiting hands - her dowry. Rory followed her out the door, his long legs outpacing her almost immediately. He slowed, falling back into step behind her. Every one of Lark's steps was a mile, every breath a war that had to be waged and won. But she held her head high, even as she got to the massive oak doors of the Great Hall. She could hear the people inside, the music of the ceremony that would mark her name in history.