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

friendly, poor minstrel.
    I turned back to Father, wary. “You must be joking.”
    “I’m afraid not,” said my father the king. “Summon the priest.”
    “What? I–no!” I strode forward, gathering the massive amounts of lace from my dress into my arms. “Father, you can’t do this!”
    “A princess’s duty is to help secure the kingdom. You proved to me last night that you have no concern about this kingdom or the royal family in the slightest, and you have offended the nobility. As king, my duty is to remove you from court. As your father, it is my duty to teach you a lesson.” The look in his eyes was hard, and he leaned forward as he spoke, as if enjoying every word. “Therefore, you shall marry.”
    “Fine, I’ll marry,” I began in a panic. “Bring back that dirty king. I’ll apologize to him–”
    “The Lioncourt retinue left this morning,” Father said sharply. “You have ruined a potential alliance with them when you could have been Queen.”
    I didn’t care about being queen, not if I had to be married to a dirty scarecrow of a king. “Then another noble–”
    “No one will marry you, Rinda. You made quite sure of that last night.”
    Cold fear spread through me, and I shook my head furiously, my fingers twisting in the thick lace of my gown. He wouldn’t marry me off to this stranger. Even my own father did not hate me that much, surely. “There has to be someone else.”
    “I vowed I would give you to the next man that showed up at my door.”
    “But this?” I protested, gesturing wildly at the man who stood behind me. “This…this… beggar !”
    “Minstrel,” the man behind me cheerfully corrected. “Shall I sing you something?”
    “ No ,” I ground out furiously. I was inches away from screaming. “Father, you can’t do this .”
    “Can’t I, Rinda? I am the king.”
    Imogen sobbed into her handkerchief, looking at me with despair.
    Helpless, I sank to the floor, staring at my father in disbelief and horror. I knew he’d always felt distaste for me. Knew that he was furious with me for last night. But I’d never in my life expected him to revenge himself upon me so cruelly. “Father, no .”
    But Father was enjoying himself too much. A fervent light was in his eyes, and he couldn’t hide the smile on his face from the room. “You. Boy. What is your name?”
    The minstrel stepped forward to my side. “I am called Aleksandr, Your Majesty,” he said in the pleasant, accented voice. “Are you sure she is quite agreeable–” He cast a concerned look down at me, his eyes warm and brown.
    Like that of a commoner. My father was marrying me to a commoner. I stared in horror at his callused hands. This wasn’t happening to me.
    “I am the king. She cannot go against what I decide,” said my father in a cold voice.
    My head bent to the floor, and I let my curtain of dark hair hide the despair in my face. He was right – I couldn’t do anything. The word of the king was law. How many times had I used that against my own servants in the past?
    “Very well,” said Aleksandr, far too chatty for my tastes. “Does she come with a dowry, then?”
    My sister gasped in outrage.
    I turned to stare at the man at my side with something akin to hate. “You’re marrying me for my money?”
    He grinned at me, nonplussed. “Absolutely not. I’m marrying you for your charming demeanor.”
    My father gave a bark of laughter at that. “Her trunks contain a fortune, trust me.” Father raised a hand, beckoning someone behind us forward. “Good, the priest is here. Stand her up and we can begin.”
    Aleksandr's hands were on my waist, hauling me to my feet. They were warm and the calluses snagged on the silky material. Humiliation burned on my face and I slapped his hands away, shoving him back. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
    “You sure you’re a princess?” he said, grinning. “I always thought the nobility had, you know…manners.”
    “Her lack of manners is why