The Scarecrow King: A Romantic Retelling of the King Thrushbeard Fairy Tale by Jill Myles Read Free Book Online

though it throbbed like an open wound. The taste of blood still filled my mouth, and I realized I must have broken the skin inside my cheek. “You always think everything is about you.” I dug my fingernails into my palms, fighting back angry tears. I would not cry in front of these people. I would not.
    “You have ruined your marriage prospects tonight, Rinda!” My father leaned in and shouted so hard that the loose strands of hair blew off my brow and spittle flecked my forehead. “What are you thinking?”
    “I do not want to marry, Father. I already told you that.”
    “You don't want to marry?” he seethed, and his fingers grabbed me under the chin, forcing my head up. I don't think I'd ever seen my father so angry. His face was purple at the edges, so dark that his beard seemed white in comparison. “That is why you did all of this tonight? This show of theatrics and insults? All so you would not have to marry?”
    I remained silent and composed, glaring up at my father. I would not answer.
    A harsh laugh erupted from him then, and he cast me away, letting me fall back to the floor amongst my skirts and the beads of my broken belt.
    “Hear me now, Rinda. None of the noblemen in the kingdom may wish to marry you now, but I swear upon all that I hold sacred that I will give you away to the next man that shows up on my doorstep. I promise you this.”
    A gasp sounded behind me, and Imogen rushed forward, reaching out to touch Father's arm, as if she could cool his anger. “Father, no—”
    “I have spoken,” he bellowed, shaking off Imogen's touch and pointing down at me again. “The next man that shows up at this door will be your husband, Rinda, and I hope he makes you as miserable as you made me!”
     
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
    A hand on my shoulder shook me awake from under the mountains of pillows and covers. “Your Highness,” whispered my servant, Dorcas. “Your father has requested your presence in the drawing room.”
    I sat up in bed, pushing my tangled hair out of my face, and peered around my room. It was pitch black. That was odd. Normally I slept until the day was late and sunlight was streaming in through the window. “What time is it?”
    “Tis before dawn, Your Highness.”
    Dawn? Before it? Unheard. I flopped back into bed and pulled my embroidered coverlets over my head. “Go away until it is a decent hour. Like noon.”
    “Your Highness,” Dorcas repeated, and she sounded tearful. “The king is quite insistent. Please, please, Princess.”
    I threw the blankets away from my face and glared at the maid. “Is this one of Father’s ridiculous little games? He’s still mad about the ball, isn’t he?”
    “I don’t know, Highness,” she wept. “All I am told is that I must bring you downstairs. Immediately.”
    With a roll of my eyes, I sat up in bed and swung my legs over the side of my feather mattress. My favorite jeweled slippers were waiting next to the bed, and I pushed my feet into them, then shuffled toward the door.
    “Princess Rinda!” The maid said, scandalized even as she hurried to open my bedroom door for me. “Will you not dress? Your father will be most displeased.”
    I glanced down at the sleep-wrinkled silk nightgown I wore. The neck was high and delicately embroidered, and a long train of the finest Balinoran lace swept across the floor behind me. It was my most expensive nightgown. Father would hate it. “No, I think I shall go downstairs like this,” I said with a delicate yawn. “If Father wants me to crawl out of bed to attend him, he’s going to have to deal with it.”
    For good measure, I raked my hand through my long brown tangles, fluffing them to make my hair seem even more rumpled.
    The maid gave a choked wail, but dashed ahead of me. “Very well, Your Higness.”
    Even at this obscenely early hour, Balinore castle still buzzed with people, though not the nobility. Servants crept along the halls, and guardsmen, and all stopped to stare