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I was twelve when I told my parents that I would much rather find a princess than a prince.
“Happiness is a bonus, Sophia. You’re not entitled to it, and the sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.”
“She doesn’t seem like your type,” Morris says, grinning as if he’s said something hilarious. I’ve missed something. Fear clouds Luke’s eyes.
“When my sister read that story as a child, I—” “Luke—” I start. “I remember thinking Prince Charming would make a good husband—for me.”
She is all I want.
“The palace underestimates the resourcefulness of women forced into a dark and dangerous place.”
“A prison is still a prison no matter how pretty the decor,”
She makes me feel seen. Alive. Hopeful.
Under the glinting moon, her hair is like a smoldering ember, her face so much like the splendor of the stars in the sky above us that I wonder how she can be real.
A wave of yearning threatens to consume me. With a smirk, she wades in until the water rests just below her shoulders.