"Oh, come on! You don't seriously believe that nonsense, Mum, do you? The concept of locking up princesses in towers so some hot, strong man rescues them? It's just... wrong! They only do it for their image anyway; no one even remembers the girls. It's only Prince Oh-aren't-I-just-so-great Charming who's remembered! You remember the Rapunzel incident, don't you? Mum? MUM! Come on! At least pretend you're listening!" I stop pacing and wildly flailing my arms to get her attention, realizing it's useless anyway.

My mother finally looks up from the letter she was reading, the one claiming that now that I had turned 17, I was old enough to be locked up in a tower to rot until someone decided it was time to save me. She sighs, simply looking at me from under long, dark lashes with tired eyes. "I know you're right, but..." She trails off, staring at the envelope the letter came in, still lying on the table. I can read my name in cursive, green ink: Naila Fae of Westonport. It's a ridiculous name, long and pompous and oh-so-princess-y. Which makes sense, of course, given the fact I am one, yet it still makes me feel ill every time I think about it. It's not like I don't appreciate the life I get to live, but if I had the choice, I'd rather be raised in the village of Westonport than in the castle like a lamb for slaughter.

"Naila, I understand your concerns—" my mother starts. Oh God, this is bad. I already know I've lost and brace myself for the "but" I already sense coming. "But it'll be fine. I met your father the same way, and this isn't up for debate. You're going, whether you like it or not." With that, she leaves the dining hall, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. "But Mum!" I call when she's halfway out the door. "What about Kate? When they sent her away, she never came back!" My mother turns around slowly, the reflection of tears shimmering in her eyes, but then they're gone. "What happened to your sister is not one of your problems." With that, she turns around, not bothering to close the door behind her and leaving me behind, gobsmacked.