Pinky Promises
By Natalie Alascia-Dittfurth
He hasn’t said a word yet and I already know he’s insufferable.
Across the table, Prince Elioenai pins me with a look, lips tilted with the ghost of a smirk. I keep my gaze trained downward and return to picking at my food, too irritated to eat. He’s been staring at me for the entirety of dinner, yet he seems too cowardly to speak with me. But I don’t mind that.
I just wish my betrothed would look anywhere else but at me. Excellent first impression.
“Princess Lorelei,” King Ander says, “Would you tell us more about your beautiful kingdom?”
I hadn’t been listening to the beginning of this conversation, but the question tells me everything I need to know. “There’s not much more to tell, Your Majesty.” You don’t need to know anything else.
“What about the forest? I’ve heard it is enchanted, with creatures and magic of all kinds.” Well, look who finally decided to speak. ”Is this true?”
My eyes snap up to meet turquoise ones. A snide remark is dying to leap off my tongue, but I must bite it back with a soft smile, like I’ve done my whole life. “I have never been to the forest. I cannot answer that.”
The prince leans forward at the edge of his chair, a strand of umber hair falling across his brow. Hanging onto my every word. ”I have also heard of a sorceress of sorts living in your enchanted forest,” he continues, lifting an eyebrow. A challenge.
“I do not know what you speak of. There is no such sorceress in our kingdom,” Father answers for me, and he visibly stiffens in his chair. I school my features into not showing my disdain towards the prince, or the fact that I notice how pointed his questions are. Not that hiding what I feel really matters. He wouldn’t care. I have no control over what my curse makes him feel.
“Well, then,” Elioenai says, taking a sip from his glass. “I guess I will have to find out for myself.”
I do not know how I will bear being with this man for the rest of my life. Truly. We are pawns in whatever game our fathers are playing. Forced to marry for the political benefits. An alliance. The wedding will be the equivalent of a peace treaty, only with my vows instead of the king’s signature. This is not how I should be spending my life.
“Lorelei, Mother hisses in my ear with an elbow to my ribs. “Be nice.”
I am not sure when this evening I have failed to meet that request, but I straighten and plaster on a brighter smile anyway. And he’s staring at me again.
His eyes stay on me through the rest of dinner, and I annoyingly cannot decipher the intention behind them. I could have charmed him without knowing. He could just be interested in me. He could hate me. All I know is that I only feel up to giving him the satisfaction of eye contact twice. No one at the table addresses us, letting us start a conversation of our own and get to know each other. The only thing we’re starting is to get on each other’s nerves. Even if he’s already been doing that for the past hour.
This dinner could not get any worse.
Just as I think I can’t take any more, the plates are cleared and I am escaping to my room for the night. My heeled shoes click on the marble flooring as I stride through halls adorned in fine paintings and tapestries, illuminated by sparkling lamps. Right before I take the last turn to reach my rooms, I am forced to a halt. A rough hand clasps around my wrist.
Maybe it could.
Elioenai pulls me into a side corridor, one I curse myself for forgetting of its existence. “Let go of me, Prince,” I sneer, my attempts to yank my arm free proving useless. His grip is ironclad, a silent message that I am not going anywhere until I do as he wishes. So I stomp on his foot, shouting a plea of help to anyone who can hear me. He has no right to touch me, to drag me around my own palace, to—
He pulls me against him in the shadow of the unlit hall, startling me in a way that I wish it didn’t. His lips brush the shell of my ear as he murmurs into it. “Quit squirming and be quiet.”
“Don’t tell me what to-”
“I know about your curse.”
I am stunned into silence. My blood runs cold. My heart drops. No one but my parents and I know. He can’t know. How could my secret have gotten out?
He takes my choked gasp as a sign to elaborate. “You can charm anyone to do your bidding. With a glance. A smile. You make people fall so deeply in love with you that they would die for you.” His grip on my arm impossibly tightens when I try to step away. “Isn’t that what you were doing just now at dinner?”
I swallow. He is correct about my curse, how I have the unnatural ability to attract people. A lovely gift from the sorceress to my parents for reasons left unknown. But he cannot seriously believe I was trying to charm him tonight. If anything, I was trying to discourage interaction. “I don’t have control over it,” I say lowly, wondering if one wrong word will leave me dead. “It’s not my fault if I-”
“How fascinating,” he snaps dryly with a roll of his eyes. “Now, I need your help.”
“Help? What could you possibly need me for?” We’re not even married yet and he’s already demanding of me.
In the shadows, his vibrant eyes are like a flame in the night, standing out against the rest of him. Dark, wavy hair falls freely in front of his eyes. “You’re doing it again.”
If I wasn’t locked in his grasp, and knew how to without breaking my wrist, I’d have punched him in the jaw right about now. “How many times do I need to explain that I don’t control the curse? And how do you even kn-”
“That is my business. All you need to be concerned with is helping me.”
“And what makes you think I would help you?”
He tilts his head and frowns, as if considering a thought. “Not sure. Maybe the fact that I would tell my father and anyone else willing to listen what you can do, little charmer.”
Little charmer. I stomp on his foot again, and this time he grunts and loosens his grasp enough for me to pull out of it. I spin on my heel to make a run for it, but I am tugged backward almost instantly—by his boot stepping on the hem of my dress, I deduce from a glance over my shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” I hiss through my teeth, yanking my peach colored gown free before it tears.
“Plenty. But maybe one less thing, if you help me.”
I scoff, “Why am I so important to your little plan, Eldorian?”
“Because, you are.” He smirks, tilting his head to the side. “This is going to be an insufferable marriage if we don’t learn how to help each other.”
It already is an insufferable marriage.
“So, will you help me?”
I glare at him, shattering the last piece of the mask I’ve struggled to keep on all night. Deciding to help him is a blind bargain. He could be sacrificing me to the sorceress, for all I know. I’ve heard town rumors. I never trust anyone I first meet, especially someone who pushes and pulls me around like a toy. Why would the outcome of assisting him be good?
“What would I get out of this, if I agree?”
“Well,” he starts, taking a slow step toward me. “Isn’t keeping your secret enough?”
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
Elioenai sighs and reaches out a fist, though his pinky finger is extended. “I’ll pinky swear.”
He is actually intolerable. “You’ll what?”
His shoulders slump, eyes narrowed in irritation. “Are you actually asking me to explain this?”
“Yes, please enlighten me.” I am in no mood for tricks. Or his attitude.
Again, he sighs of frustration. “Okay, little charmer. Where I come from, a pinky promise holds the promisor to their word. If they fail to fulfill the promise, they will be sentenced to an eternity of serving the other. It’s an old spell created by the queen a couple centuries ago.”
His story about a pinky promise and whatever magic is associated with it sounds so fake I could laugh. And I am not stupid enough to fall for it. “And why would I believe something as ridiculous as that?”
“Because.” He still has his pinky outstretched, waiting for me to do… something. “I’m from Eldoria. The spell originated in Eldoria. If I fail to keep your secret, I will have to do your bidding forever.” His eyebrows raise, voice deep with a seriousness I’ve never heard from him. I let the silence stretch, let him wonder what I will say next. Annoy him, if only to please myself before I give him what he wants.
“Little charmer, you’re going to have to say if you agree or not at some point. I do not plan on staying in this hallway all night.”
“Fine” I scoff. My gaze falls on his hand, his poor finger pointing at me. “How does.. this pinky promise work?”
“You’ve really never made one before, have you?”
“Like you said, it’s an Eldorian custom. Hasn’t reached Lyndor yet.”
His lips twitch. “Stick out your pinky like I am doing, and link it around mine.”
I wasn’t aware that this required physical touch. And I am quite content with him never touching me again.
Nevertheless, I mirror him, our fingers linked for a long, painful second before he breaks away, sealing our deal.
What have I gotten myself into?