The wedding wasn't cancelled. The official word given to the castle staff and guests was postponed—until the king could meet with his daughter and bring her to understand how much trouble she was in, that was.

The morning after her failed escape attempt, Pretie's father demanded she speak with him in his throne room—with an audience made up of his closest advisors and a few other members of the castle staff. The girl refused to meet the eyes of any of them, keeping her gaze fixed on her father.

King Moran sat on his plush throne at the front of the room, his head held in his hands as if he couldn't bear to look at his daughter. Rather than have her sit on her own, slightly smaller throne at his side, the man had demanded that she stand before him. Right now, she wasn't royalty; she was a peasant clamoring for his attention. But unlike those that sought an audience with the king, Pretie refused to kneel.

"I would have thought my daughter was smart enough to not climb out of her window in the middle of the night," King Moran finally spoke, his voice barely more than a low grumble. "Instead, here we are. What was supposed to be such a fine, glorious day..." He trailed off with a sigh, as if he was unable to muster the energy to continue.

Pretie raised an eyebrow.

The man lifted his head from his hands, his piercing, blue-eyed gaze meeting hers. "Well, Pretie? What do you have to say for yourself? Your father and your future husband both deserve to know what you were up to."

Future husband? Her eyebrows lifting in surprise, Pretie turned to follow his gaze. Her eyes locked on a familiar pair of grey ones. The prince of San Clivus was none other than the boy she'd seen sneaking out last night. 

"That he was doing the same thing." Pretie blurted, raising an accusatory finger at the dark-haired boy. While his eyebrows twitched upwards, the boy remained silent. As the girl let her gaze return to her father, she noticed that the king's expression had darkened.

"Prince Virid? The very one that went out searching for you when you were reported missing?" 

"No, he— What?"

King Moran shifted on his throne, his eyes narrowed as he stared across the room at his daughter. "When a rumor was passed around that you had escaped from your rooms last night, Virid was the first to send a search party out to find you. He said that he had heard you on the rooftop."

Pretie pivoted to face the prince, her lip curling in a sneer. "You've got to be kidding. So, what? Were you lying when you said you were sneaking out for a drink, or is this whole thing an excuse to save your sorry ass?"

"Pretie! Language!"

She ignored the man's rumbling voice, taking a step closer to Virid. "I am going to kill—"

"Pretie!"

This time, the princess turned. King Moran's eyes were wide as he stood from his throne. When he spoke next, his voice was dangerously calm. "I don't know what game you're trying to play, but I suggest you stop it."

Pretie scoffed. "I'm not playing a game. Virid was there, on the rooftop with me. He climbed out of his own window! He— He used his belt to slide down a pipe!"

The king heaved a sigh. "I don't understand why you're trying to make this difficult, Pretie. Your stories won't get you anywhere."

"They're not stories."

King Moran fell silent, glancing toward his two advisors. They sat on one side of the room, watching the conversation with interest. When the king gestured—not very discreetly—to Pretie, the advisors shared a look. The man sitting on the left hesitantly cleared his throat.

"Well, Your Majesty, we don't have any evidence that Prince Virid was escaping, as your daughter said," the man said in a grating voice. "As far as I can tell, it's simply Her Highness's way of... Shifting the blame." As his gaze moved to Pretie, the girl's expression hardened into a glare. The man didn't seem to notice as he looked back over to the king.

A thoughtful hum was her father's only response. He absentmindedly scratched at his goatee as his eyes moved to his other advisor.

They just shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. "It's hard to know for sure, considering none of us were there last night. Whether Her Highness's story is true or not, I think it would still be worth it to learn the reason she escaped her rooms in the first place." The advisor's stare shifted between Pretie and her father.

King Moran returned his gaze to his daughter. "I suppose you're right, Folken. That would be good to hear before I deal out any true punishment." An involuntary shudder passed through Pretie at the words.

The advisor just offered him a satisfied nod, seemingly pleased to have contributed. 

"So, Pretie?" Her father prompted with a quirk of his eyebrow. "What was your reasoning for last night's escapade?"

The girl remained silent for a moment, her eyes skating around the room before jumping back to the king. She took a breath before mumbling an answer. "If I'm being entirely honest, I wanted to avoid the wedding." 

King Moran's eyebrows leapt up in surprise. He barked out a confused laugh. "What? Why would you want to do that?" He glanced over to Prince Virid. As Pretie's gaze followed his, she saw that the boy wore a displeased grimace.

"I don't know, I... I just don't want this," Pretie replied, chuckling hesitantly. "I just want to—"

"You think that you can just run away because 'you don't want this?'" The man responded, his voice suddenly hushed. The girl fell silent, her mouth remaining open in shock from his sudden change in tone. "You should be happy. You should be grateful that I've been able to arrange this for you."

Pretie's shock faded quickly, replaced by frustration and anger. "Are you kidding me? I should be grateful? Grateful for what? For being forced into a marriage I don't even want? This has never been about me, Father. This has always been about you."

King Moran's eyes grew wide as he stood from his throne. "You have some nerve speaking to me like that," he growled in a low voice. "I am your father. I am your king."

"You're mad at me for speaking the truth?" She scoffed. "I never wanted any of this. Not that you would know, of course. You never asked me what I wanted. All you care about is yourself and making yourself look good to the rest of the kingdom."

"You—" The man cut himself off, releasing a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "You're my daughter, Pretie. I only want what's best for you. Therefore, I'm going to give you one more chance to apologize."

Pretie narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms as she took a step back. "Apologize for what, exactly? Having my own opinions? Having my own dreams? Not wanting you to control every part of my life?"

When King Moran remained silent, the girl began to pace the room. Her eyes drifted to her father's advisors. While the advisor on the right seemed mildly curious about the conversation, the man on the left puckered his lips, his face scrunched up as if he'd just tasted something sour. She let her gaze continue to move as she walked back and forth.

"Come to think of it, I can't think of a single time in which you did something with me in mind," she continued to rant. "I would have thought that getting married would finally be something I could have some kind of choice in. All I want is control over my own life and, hells, you've never given that to me."

Her gaze landed on Virid, who was watching the event with raised eyebrows and a sneer. Pretie stopped in front of him. 

"Wipe that stupid expression off your face or I'll wipe it off myself," she spat. "You're just as much of a manipulative asshole as my father. If it was my choice, I would never marry you."

The prince's expression hardened and he took a step forward, but Pretie backed away, shaking her head with a glare.

"Lay a hand on me and you'll regret it."

As she turned back to the front of the room, Pretie locked eyes with her father. She had never seen him as angry as he was now. His chest heaved as he seethed before her, his face flushed.

There was no way Pretie was going to let him intimidate her into apologizing for speaking her mind.

"So, care to tell me why I should be begging for your forgiveness? Because it sounds like you're the one who should be doing the apologizing," the girl hissed, approaching the man. "You have a whole hell of a lot to be sorry for."

King Moran stood before her in silence, his blue eyes narrowed. "I was almost going to let you off the hook for your attitude, but this has gone too far. I refuse to have a daughter who is so outwardly against her father when everything he has ever done has been in her favor."

Pretie balled her hands into fists. "I refuse to have a father who does everything in his power to benefit himself and dares to claim that it's the other way around."

The man's expression shifted into a scowl. "I don't want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice." He snapped his fingers and several guards appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to surround her. When she attempted to sidestep away from them, a couple of the guards grabbed her by the arms, holding her in place.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Pretie cried out as she struggled in their hold. The guards refused to loosen their grip.

"Folken, Wiles," her father demanded, gesturing to his advisors. "Do whatever you must to get this girl as far away from Aecora as you can. I feel my people will be in danger with that rebellious attitude of hers." While a flash of worry for the Aecoran residents shot through Pretie, she knew that the glint in the king's eye meant this was nothing more than a ploy to maintain his appearance.

A mixture of fear and confusion pervaded Pretie's thoughts as the two advisors approached her. What can they possibly do? It's not like they have the power to do anything, she tried to reassure herself as they drew closer. The thoughts blinked out one by one as a faint glow overtook the two advisors' hands. What the—

The man with the grating voice—Wiles—sneered at her as he raised his hand, blue energy bubbling within his clenched fist. Standing beside him, Folken at least had the decency to appear slightly apologetic for what was about to happen as they gathered a thrashing purple energy in their own hands.

Pretie tried to escape, but the guards held her fast, leaving her no choice but to stare down the two advisors as the colorful energy they held slowly grew in size. She watched helplessly as Wiles offered Folken his hand. As the two linked hands, the energy combined into a writhing, multi-colored mass around them. For a long moment, all Pretie could hear was the buzz of the strange, magical force in front of her. When the two advisors finally spoke, it was in one, echoing voice.

"Pretie Panton, Aecoran princess:

For your constant, needless protests,

We curse you to live away from all you know,

Past the shore and far below.

May you never leave the ocean

Once this spell is set in motion."

Before Pretie had any time to consider what the riddle meant, the two advisors lunged forward and pressed their linked hands to the girl's forehead. The effect was instantaneous as something akin to an electric shock rippled through her body. Her legs turned to jelly beneath her and she would have collapsed to the floor if not for the guards still holding her arms. She felt a strange stabbing sensation beneath her skin, but couldn't determine the source as a fog overtook her mind.

She faintly felt the guards lower her to the floor as her body fell numb and her vision went dark.