YA alternate-world fantasy. Chubby Princess Benevolence had a scrappy, indulged childhood: she was heir to the throne, but she was the daughter of only the king's younger brother, and therefore didn't actually have much to do with the court. When her parents are killed and Ben falls into the custody of her pitiless aunt the queen, she is entirely unequipped to deal with the strict and interminable lessons in courtesy, the tiny portions of ladylike food her aunt allows her, or, when relations with her aunt reach an impasse, her imprisonment in a bare tower room for everything but meals. But that little stone room has a secret, and soon Ben is learning magic from on an old and dusty book - magic that gets her in worse trouble than she's ever been in, but might also allow her to save her kingdom from the danger besetting it.
For most of the length of this, I thought it was a fun read - not great, but inoffensive and nice, in a not-quite-fairy-tale-themed way. My only real complaint was with the narrative voice: the frame is that the heroine is recounting these events as an old woman, and the voice really did feel like an old woman's. Which is a valid style, but not what you expect from YA, especially given the very contemporary-YA-ish cover.
I finished it with some niggling annoyance at a couple of character choices, but still with the impression that it was a fun, harmless read. But the niggling annoyance has grown, to the point that I'm actually angry at the book at this stage - and I didn't think I'd cared about it enough to be angry, but there.
The general gist of the book's message is that people aren't black-or-white, and that a rather immature sixteen-year-old's idea of wickedness is probably going to be rather overblown. Ben grows up a lot over the book, and realises that she's been doing several people rather an injustice, and making things worse for herself. In particular, she realises that the queen is actually admirable in a lot of ways, and that a good part of why they got on so badly was Ben's own immaturity and stubbornness. Which, all right, as far as it goes, complex characters are a good thing - except that the queen doesn't have any similar revelation, and never suffers or feels badly for her treatment of Ben. She locked up her niece for months and denied her enough food to eat. To turn around and say that this was her niece's fault and they're all going to get on like wildfire now that Ben's grown up some is, actually, incredibly disturbing.
The other character I wanted to strangle was the love interest, a prince from the warlike kingdom over the other side of the mountains. He and Ben fail to get on from their first meeting, and continue failing to get on through all their subsequent meetings. The author seems to be working with the idea that enmity-turns-to-love is more interesting than admiration-turns-to-love, but the thing is that there has to be a reason for the enmity to turn to love. Prince Florian is a war-mongering, arrogant, petty boy, who treats the heroine appallingly when he knows who she is, and even more appallingly when he thinks, as he does for a good part of the book, that she's a fat little peasant boy his soldiers have taken prisoner and chained in the kitchen tent. He also tries to invade her kingdom, and makes free comment to the fat-little-peasant-boy about how doltish and repulsive Princess Benevolence was. We as readers are let in on how he's really misunderstood and a true prince when the two of them have a heart-to-heart one evening in which Florian makes some atrociously sappy and entirely out-of-character revelations about his ideals for true love, which do nothing to establish his decency as a human being, only his rather tenuous grip on reality. When Ben confronts him later about the gap between his ideals and his plan to marry somebody he barely knows and dislikes, he has her thrown into jail with a death threat hanging over her head, for her disrespect.
Somehow she gets over all this when she thinks he's dying, and they have a rather rapturous kiss. This doesn't even need the Stockholm Syndrome thing to be a terrible romance, but I might be OK with it if there was even some acknowledgment that he was desperately unlikeable but she liked him anyway. Instead we just have Ben feeling terrible and apologising about having accidentally done something to humiliate him once, without even mentioning that maybe she's still ahead in the humiliation stakes, as far as their personal interaction goes. Just. Angry reader fists, all right?