A Courtyard of Roses
Gifted a candle that was said to make wishes come true, Alice Clemente burned it to find herself awake in a different world. She had wished for a life of adventure away from the city and its routine. With her wish granted, she was no longer in the 21st century and was instead lost in the middle of the Kingdom of Gladiolum, a place reminiscent of the 1800s. With luck, she soon gained connections to the rich and powerful of this new world— the nobility. However, how much of it was good and how much of it would eventually be detrimental? After all, mingling with royals not only meant extravagance and daily parties. It also meant warfare and death. Caught in the middle of the two princes and other nobles, Alice would soon have to face the battle between those two royal brothers― a fight for the throne. She had wished for adventure, after all, and she received just as such. Kept in the center of all this, would Alice be able to emerge from the rabbit hole unscathed? Or will the overwhelming troubles of love and war be too much for her to bear? *** “And what if you, too, are unable to help?” Alice threw the question back. “What if helping would risk everything?” Spade didn’t miss a beat. “You are everything.” “Don’t say things that you don’t mean,” Alice chided. “You’ll leave a trail of broken hearts.” “And would you believe me if I say that I have no intention of breaking yours?” Spade countered. “However, mine is yours to play with. Shatter it, fix it, do anything you desire. As long as it feels the warmth of your hand, I am content.” *** Image used in cover not mine.
The Wedding Ceremony
THE MUSIC THAT rang through the beautifully-decorated hallways of the church was bright, bold, and shot through a dash of adrenaline in Alice's veins. Her grip on the bouquet of flowers tightened, her lips pinched together as she stayed straight ahead past the doors that had been flung right open.
All the guests that had been invited to the wedding had been seated. At the sound of the music that cued the entrance of the bride, paired with the noise made by the opening doors, they spun back to look, standing to their feet. At the center of the raised platform in front, at the end of the aisle, was Spade, Alice's groom.
Her hands, though wrapped in the lace of her gloves, had grown clammy and sweaty. The fabric did little to nothing in sweat absorption, not that she particularly cared for that detail. She could barely remember how to breathe, how to walk, and how not to trip over her insanely long dress that dragged behind her steps.