Vanka stared at her reflection. Well, just her eyes—because from her nose down to her chin, she was now hidden behind a veil of black translucent silk adorned with tiny beads.
She'd told her mother she was having a sudden pollen allergy that made her skin break out in red patches. It was a believable enough excuse for a Princess who was obsessed with her looks.
"Princess, are you sure you want to go out?" Dila asked anxiously, smoothing the back of Vanka's forest-green gown—a darker shade chosen specifically to hide the fact that her complexion was starting to look a bit dull.
"Your uncle... he's invited almost every young noble from the western territories for tea in the central gardens."
Vanka let out a cynical huff, her slender fingers adjusting the veil.
"Uncle Baron is playing with fire, Dila. He knows I don't want to see anyone, yet he goes ahead and invites a crowd of those preening peacocks."
"Maybe he just wants to cheer you up, Princess," Dila said softly.
"Cheer me up?" Vanka let out a dry, hollow laugh. "He wants to show off the kingdom's 'assets.' He wants me to pick a husband fast so he can control the throne through a son-in-law. But he has no idea... he's actually sending me a thousand daggers."
Vanka stepped out, her head held high. Her arrogance hadn't faded one bit. If anything, the veil made her look even more mysterious and intimidating.
The Central Gardens of Aradelle
The gardens were usually peaceful, but this afternoon they were buzzing with the sound of men's laughter and the clinking of porcelain teacups.
At least ten young nobles, all dressed in ridiculous finery, sat around a long table piled high with sweet cakes.
Uncle Baron stood at the head of the table, his face beaming when he saw his niece arrive. "Ah! There she is! The Black Pearl of Aradelle has arrived!"
Vanka walked closer. She felt ten pairs of eyes lock onto her. It felt like walking into a cage of wolves, all ready to tear into her with sweet talk.
"Princess Vanka," Uncle Baron approached, reaching for her hand, but Vanka pointedly adjusted her gown to avoid his touch.
"What's with the veil? Eros said you weren't feeling well, but looking at how gracefully you walk, you seem healthier than the rest of us."
"Allergies, Uncle. I didn't want the guests to see my 'less than perfect' face today," Vanka replied flatly, emphasizing the words less than perfect.
A noble with dark brown hair and a thin mustache, Marquis Julian, stood and bowed low.
"Less than perfect? Princess, even with a veil, your beauty pierces through that fabric like moonlight through dark clouds. I'd bet anything that behind that lace, your face is glowing even brighter because of how much we've missed you."
Throb.
Vanka closed her eyes for a second. That sharp sting hit her right in the jawline. One lie. One more day of my youth, gone.
"Marquis Julian," Vanka pinned him with a stare. "You're betting too much. What if behind this veil I'm covered in acne or dark spots? Would you still call that glowing?"
Julian laughed confidently. "To a man like me, even a blemish on your face would look like a precious pearl. True beauty can't be hidden by something so trivial."
Throb. Throb.
Two stings at once. Vanka felt the skin on her neck lose a bit of its firmness. She desperately wanted to scream at him to shut up.
"Sit, Vanka," Uncle Baron urged, gesturing to the seat next to Prince Eros, who seemed to have regained his unearned confidence.
"These men traveled from far away just to pay their respects to you."
"Respects? Or just fairy tales?" Vanka sat down stiffly.
Eros immediately leaned in, his scent just as suffocating as yesterday. "Princess, I've thought of nothing but you all night. This veil... honestly, it's genius. You look like a war goddess in disguise. Your eyes... ah, those eyes are sharper than any gem in the world. I could drown in them forever."
Vanka felt her eyes grow heavy, as if her eyelids were starting to droop just a tiny bit.
"Eros, if you drown, I'll make sure nobody comes to save you."
Laughter erupted around the table. The nobles took Vanka's sharp tongue as a fun challenge.
"Incredible!" another noble, Count Felix, chimed in. "A cold, mysterious Princess. A perfect match for great princes like us. Princess, did you know? In the capital, people say your skin is as white as the first snow on Aradelle's peaks. Just looking at your hand holding that cup... I'm certain your skin is softer than a cloud."
Burn...
A faint burning sensation appeared on the back of Vanka's hand. She looked at it. To Felix, it still looked flawless. But to Vanka, she could see the fine lines on her knuckles becoming more pronounced.
"Softer than a cloud?" Vanka lifted her hand, shoving it toward Felix's face.
"You haven't even touched me, Count. How would you know if it's soft? Can you also smell flowers from a mile away?"
Felix turned red. "A man's instinct, Princess. Something beautiful always radiates softness even before it's touched."
"Liar," Vanka muttered under her breath.
Uncle Baron sipped his tea, watching Vanka closely. "Vanka, you're being way too cynical today. These men just want to please you. Don't you feel honored? Every word out of their mouths is a compliment that every woman in this kingdom dreams of."
"A dream for other women, Uncle. For me, it's just useless noise," Vanka snapped.
"But Princess," Marquis Julian cut in again, "Beauty is a responsibility. You are blessed with a face that will never age-"
"NEVER AGE?" Vanka cut him off, her voice rising so sharply that the entire garden went dead silent.
"I-I mean... your beauty is legendary. People say time doesn't dare touch Princess Vanka's face," Julian stammered.
STING!
This time it actually hurt. Vanka felt like a needle had been driven into her cheek behind the veil. She knew. She knew exactly why. This lie the one about her 'never aging' was the most fatal of all. Because that was the very core of her curse.
Vanka stood up abruptly, her chair toppling backward onto the grass.
"Vanka! What are you doing?" Uncle Baron stood, face flushed with embarrassment in front of his guests.
"I'm sick of this," Vanka looked at the men one by one with pure hatred. "All of you... you don't even see me. You just see a title and a face you've made up in your own heads. You talk like you know every inch of my skin, yet you don't even dare to look me in the eye without shaking."
"Princess, we only-" Eros tried to speak.
"Shut up, Eros! Especially you! You said I look more breathtaking? I'm wearing a veil because my face is a mess, and you call me breathtaking? Are you blind, or is your soul just rotten from lying to women too much?"
Vanka turned to her uncle. "Uncle, don't ever invite them again. If I see a single one of them in this palace tomorrow, I'll order the head guard to cut out their tongues so they can never tell another lie again!"
Vanka sprinted away from the garden. The shocked whispers of the nobles followed her, but she didn't care.
She slammed her bedroom door, locked it, and ripped off her veil in front of the mirror.
Vanka gasped.
Her face was still beautiful; she was still the same Vanka. But... under her eyes, there were dark shadows that wouldn't go away no matter how much she slept. The skin on her cheeks looked a little more 'tired.' And the thing that made her skin crawl: the gray hair she had snipped yesterday had grown back in the exact same spot, and this time, it had brought two friends along.
"One hour," Vanka whispered, her breath hitching. "Just one hour with them, and I feel like I've lost a month of my life."
She touched her cheek. Her skin felt slightly coarser. No longer the polished porcelain she bragged about.
"Noah..." Vanka gritted her teeth. "You're so freaking sneaky. You knew this palace was a nest of liars."
She sat back down at her vanity, her hands shaking as she reached for her face cream. She realized something horrifying: she couldn't escape the compliments. As long as she was the Princess of Aradelle, men would always praise her, whether they meant it or not.
And her curse didn't differentiate between a heartfelt compliment and a lie it just counted DECEIT. And in the world of palace politics, almost every compliment was a lie for the sake of an agenda.
"I have to leave," she whispered. "Not to beg him. No. I have to find a way to silence every man in this palace... or I'm going to end up looking like a grandmother before autumn even hits."
But her ego was still too high. She wasn't ready to leave the luxury of the palace to find the man whose dignity she'd crushed under her golden heels.
"Not yet," Vanka whispered to her reflection, which now looked slightly more mature than it should.
"I still have time. I'll find the greatest healers in the land. There has to be a cure for this dark magic besides that jerk's honesty."
Vanka stared at the gray strands in her hair, and in a surge of emotion, she swept all the perfume bottles off her vanity.
They shattered across the floor, filling the room with a scent that was just as suffocating as the lies she had just heard.