In the Tower of the Wizard King #Tuesday Teaser 2
Today’s Tuesday Teaser is another snippet from Wizard King. We’re getting closer to release day and I couldn’t be more excited. You can preorder now at one of the links below.
In the Land of Faery Past
“’Tis your wedding day, milady!”
The high-pitched exclamation from Lady Fiona’s handmaiden echoed off the stone walls. Thank the gods for the tapestries to absorb the banshee’s shriek. Fiona pressed two fingers against her temple and rubbed at the headache forming. She hadn’t yet managed to get out of bed but she knew the servants had been coming and going since before dawn.
Aye, indeed it was her wedding day. A day she had long been prepared for since she was but a girl. At age six, she was betrothed to the young prince, Cian, heir to the throne of Anatolia. She’d first met the prince on her ninth birthday, which her parents’ thought was the perfect gift. Fiona wanted a pony or a unicorn. Even a dragon would be a better gift than a stupid boy.
Winnie shoved back the bed curtains letting the bright morning light burst inside Fiona’s cocoon. The girl had opened every window covering to allow the sunbeams to slash across the floor. Fiona had to shield her eyes and blink back the sudden tears from the brilliance.
“’Tis no time for a lie in, my lady. We have to get you dressed and ready!”
The girl pulled back the coverlet and Fiona groaned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go to Lambridge Castle, the Anatolia royal family home. Cian was likeable in an unassuming sort of way. She liked him. He liked her.
But there had to be more to life than being someone’s wife, even if she would be queen someday. There had to be passion and fire and intensity and…and…something more. She wanted adventure, not marriage to a boring prince. Mayhap that was other girls’ dreams, but it wasn’t hers.
She threw her arm across her eyes to shield them from the morning glare but Winnie was relentless.
“Come on, now.” She pulled at her wrist, trying to force her to get up. “We have to get you in the bath.”
Fiona groaned her reluctance. She was about to tell the girl to piss off—a most unladylike phrase—when the door to her chamber banged open. A rustle of skirts immediately followed and she knew she was in deep trouble. Fiona bolted upright as her mother came striding in, her cobalt silk and taffeta skirts swishing about her and her constant entourage following her. She halted near the bed, fists on hips.
“You’re still abed? You lazy, good for nothing girl. Get up. Get up now.”
Fiona was out of the sheets as fast as she could move and hustling across the bedchamber to her waiting bath. Her mother barked orders to everyone else to get Fiona packed and ready for her wedding. The wedding gown had been specially made with layers of beautiful Anatolian lace over a supple silk material that hugged her every curve.
While Fiona was in the bath getting her hair washed, her mother trotted over and perched on the edge. She looked over Fiona’s naked body with a critical eye.
“You’ve been at the lemon cakes again, haven’t you?”
“No, Mother,” Fiona said.