And I’d just learned I was descended from Atlantia, a kingdom I’d been raised to believe was the source of all the evil and tragedy in the land. After all, there had been so much painful death to process. Maybe I was experiencing hallucinations brought on by stress. Perhaps I had some sort of ailment of the brain.
And those dreams surely hadn’t involved what had to be the kingdom’s worst-and possibly most insane-non-proposal of marriage to a man currently holding me captive.
Nor did they incorporate it being announced at a table full of strangers, half of which wanted me dead.
Never once did those little-girl dreams include a proposal that wasn’t remotely an actual proposal. Suddenly, I thought of all those girlish fantasies I’d had before I learned who I was and what was expected of me-daydreams given life because of the love my parents had for one another.
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