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First published September 22, 2013





“For the love of all that is good, he's wearing more feathers in his one cap than I have in my entire wardrobe. Tell us, sir -did you attack a stray peacock on your way to the ball tonight?”
“That is enough, Rinda!” My father's voice was furious. “How dare you humiliate your family before the court?”
But I was just getting started.
“I refuse to marry an old man who resembles a dried up carrot,” I said in my loudest voice.
"Your highness,” the earl began again, shocked. He looked at my father in a mixture of confusion and humiliation and jammed the cap back on his head, smoothing his hand down the hideous orange jerkin.
“Oh, like that's much better,” I said. “Now you truly look like a carrot.” The feathers really did jut from his head like a crown of leafy greens. “Perhaps if you wore a sack over your head instead of that cap—”
“Too hairy,” I told the next one, giving him a disdainful look. “I shouldn't have to brush my husband like a messy rug.”
The crowd tittered, half-horrified, half-amused. They parted to let me through, eager for any sort of gossip or entertainment to divert them. Like crows near for a carcass, they hovered over my shoulder, waiting for me to point out the next unfortunate suitor.
“Too poor,” I told the next one, and stroked my lovely belt of jet beads. “I'm not about to marry a pig farmer.”
“I am a baron, your highness,” the man said, his dark blonde hair revealed as he broke into a sweeping bow, trying to save face.
“Not with those clothes, you're not,” I replied, my voice droll. He glanced up and I saw his mouth thin with dislike. Good. I turned away from him as if he were beneath my notice.
“Too ugly,” I flat out told the next. “Too short,” were the next two. I made sure to point out each humiliated man so the rapt audience would know just who I was humiliating. “Too freckled. Too pale. And you. Goodness, no, not you. You hold your wine goblet like a woman. And you? Are you even old enough to be here? You're scarce more than a stripling.”
