Synopsis
Everyone knows that fairy tales end with "happily ever after," but is that really the ending?
It's just the beginning!
Don't Go Swiftly, Darling is the second book in a series exploring what happens to the children of those fairy tale characters who lived "happily ever after." Set in 17th century Spain, Don't Go Swiftly, Darling tells the story of Catalina, Cinderella's eldest and most willful child, who has fought her arranged marriage since the day she was first told about it. When her husband-to-be sends notice of his return, Catalina does what every princess should do in the situation: she runs. With her brother Rafael at her side, who is running away from problems of his own, she breaks away from their parents' watchful eyes and decides to explore what life is like outside the castle walls.
Don't Go Swiftly, Darling turns fairy tale conventions upside down, taking the reader on a journey through heartbreak, growing up, true love, and dealing with the past.
It's just the beginning!
Don't Go Swiftly, Darling is the second book in a series exploring what happens to the children of those fairy tale characters who lived "happily ever after." Set in 17th century Spain, Don't Go Swiftly, Darling tells the story of Catalina, Cinderella's eldest and most willful child, who has fought her arranged marriage since the day she was first told about it. When her husband-to-be sends notice of his return, Catalina does what every princess should do in the situation: she runs. With her brother Rafael at her side, who is running away from problems of his own, she breaks away from their parents' watchful eyes and decides to explore what life is like outside the castle walls.
Don't Go Swiftly, Darling turns fairy tale conventions upside down, taking the reader on a journey through heartbreak, growing up, true love, and dealing with the past.
Chapter 1
Princess Catalina stared out the tower window of her bedroom in the castle of Peracense. The eldest of King Matias’s collection watched as torches lined the steep road leading up to the mountainous castle. From her post, she saw the guests her mother always invited to her balls clopping along, and she wondered if her best friend hid in there somewhere.
The sixteen-year-old pushed aside a black wave that slipped past her veil. She wished she had time to wash the sweat from her tan skin before being thrown into the royal ball. Then again, she supposed she deserved such handling since she ignored her mother’s orders to stay in the castle for the day. It was just too hard to resist a jaunt in the country. At least the queen hadn’t sent her precious doves after the princess.
She pushed herself away from the window’s ledge and shut the red curtains. Catalina glanced up at her white-washed ceiling and sighed. Her bedroom, although quaint and less extravagant than the rest of the castle, was the princess’ favourite place next to the great outdoors. No one could enter without her permission, namely her younger brothers. She wondered what trouble they managed to get into while she was gone.
A loud knock came from the arched door. “Princess, may we come in?”
She glanced at the raised stool placed in front of her large, oval mirror, at the gown hanging off the sewing model. “Yes.”
Her maids filed in one by one in a row and took over the quiet space she called home. The princess was moved to the stool and spread her arms as she was stripped of her hunting habit and forced into the ball gown specially crafted by her mother. She was used to these creations to the point where she could at least stand them, but no matter the colour or arrangement, she always felt like a pumpkin. As she intently watched the maids work on the raspberry skirt, she grew somewhat fond of the dress.
At least it isn’t orange. Visions of last month’s ball flashed before her and the princess shuddered. Such a horrible thing. How did I ever get through the night? Her best friend Patrice likely helped her sneak out.
“There, Princess, how’s that?” Gloria, an aged maid with sagging jowls, asked with needles sticking out from her tattered sleeve. With her beady eyes scanning the dress for any last touches, all five maids waited anxiously for the princess’s approval.
Catalina tilted her head slightly, watching as loose waves of coal framed her dark cheeks. The dress, with vertical lines cutting across the straight skirts, looked decadent on her, or that was how her mother would phrase it when she saw her later.
“It will do. Hand me the amber necklace and matching earrings.” One of the newer maids, still clumsy in her movements, dashed over to the desk and tripped on the carpet. Her face flushed and Catalina tried not to look as Gloria gave the girl a tongue lashing. Gloria herself grabbed the jewellery and clasped it around the princess’ neck. Catalina grinned when she saw the finished product.
“Thank you, ladies. You’re dismissed.” The maids curtseyed simultaneously then filed out of the room.
Catalina shifted her eyes to the door. “Gloria, where are my brothers?” She couldn’t put it off any longer.
The head maid paused. “I believe the princes are with His Majesty in the West Wing Library. Would the princess like me to fetch them?”
Catalina stepped off the stool she had balanced on for the last half hour and shook her head. “No, I can fetch them. It will give me something to do. Thank you, Gloria.”
Once Gloria was gone, she went over to her closet and pushed back the clothes. She placed both hands against the back of the closet and pushed, hard. The board fell back and revealed a hidden doorway leading towards the West Wing. She picked up her skirts and went inside. It helped to have a suspicious great-grandfather who thought secret passages were necessary. It certainly cuts down on walking in these ridiculous shoes.
As she hurried along, trying not to get her skirts dirty, Catalina envisioned what the evening held for her. Introduction, dancing, dinner, dancing again, making unwanted conversation with gentlemen then dancing with said men yet again, and finally, goodnight!
She would give anything to skip the men and simply dash over to the stables. Perhaps Patrice would be up for a short jaunt in the country. Catalina envisioned what her mother would say if she caught her, and decided tempting fate a second time wouldn’t be wise. She had to get used to following her mother’s lead, or so her father told her.
Catalina came upon a torch and gave a swift pull. The stones moved aside and she walked out into the dimly lit hallway. She squinted then turned on her heel once she found her bearings. To her right she heard the low drawl of her father. Did he move from the library? She picked up her skirts and went over to the door where she thought the voice was coming from.
She tried the handle. The door was locked. Strange, she thought. These rooms were only used for special occasions, like her mother’s birthday or a tournament, when the castle was overflowing with guests. Again she heard her father’s voice, this time clearer. Following after it was a woman’s, but it wasn’t her mother’s.
God be good, not again. She bit her lower lip, trying not to tear the skin, and bent down to get a look through the key hole.
Her father’s back was to the doorway. He looked to be doing up the buttons on his waistcoat. A pair of female hands laced around his neck, drawing his head down for a kiss. An innocent part of her heart thought it could be her mother, but Catalina shook her head. The queen would be in her own chambers preparing for the ball. She had no time to socialize.
Catalina didn’t need to see anything else. The princess rose to her feet then knocked loudly.
“Father, are you almost ready for the ball?” Her voice shook.
Matias cursed quietly. “Tell your mother I’ll be there soon, Cat.”
His daughter did not reply. She found her brothers soon after in the library, just where she was told they would be. The princess wondered who fed Gloria the lie about her father’s whereabouts.
Rafael and Hugo dueled across the Persian carpets, messing up their dark curls and knocking over pieces of furniture. She walked around their little battle, watching the flames reflect off the gold buttons that lined their long coats. She noticed a tear in Hugo’s ruffled, long-sleeved shirt.
“What on earth are you two doing?”
“Dueling,” Rafael, the elder, grunted. “What does it look like?”
Catalina shook her head, clasping her elbows with her opposite hands. “Mother won’t like you covered in sweat. She’ll know.”
Hugo shrugged. “It’s not as if you aren’t as sweaty as we are, dear Sister.”
She sighed. Her brothers were some of the most unruly gentlemen in the kingdom, or so said her mother. Catalina went to the window and rested there, watching Rafael hack away at his brother. She shook her head. Rafael had such a foul temper some days; she wondered where he got it from. Her mind drifted to her father, and the thought stopped there.
When they were little, she remembered wrestling with Rafael in the nursery. He wouldn’t let her win, so the “tournament” went on for hours until Ella came back from chapel. Once she saw them, she pulled them apart and sent them both to different rooms until bedtime. She explained how Catalina couldn’t behave in such a way because she was a princess and “princesses do not get into barbaric fights, no matter how tempting.”
The princess took a step back and turned to the windowpane. Outside, the sun began to set. Carriages still lined up to the palace doors. She recognized a few faces from this height, but she still couldn’t see Patrice. I don’t think I can make it through this event without her.
The door opened. She thought it was her father, but instead a maid with pock marks curtseyed before them. Her gaze went to Rafael and Catalina found her heart turning green with envy. Everyone looked to her brother, despite her holding the “eldest sibling” card.
“Your Highness, the queen requests you meet her at the entrance to the ballroom for your introduction.”
Rafael grunted at the maid. Catalina thanked her then went to her brothers. “You heard the maid. Sheath those swords, both of you. What would Father say if he saw you like this?”
Hugo shrugged. “We’ve done worse.”
Rafael just smirked. All three knew Matias wouldn’t care one wit if the boys were misbehaving.
The royal princess rolled her eyes. “I doubt that would make our mother feel better.” Catalina led the way to the ballroom.
She spotted her mother lingering by the red curtain. Catalina saw she was trying to inspect her work before it was too late to fix an error. Catalina watched as the queen found her husband, who had snuck up behind the princess. Ella glided over and kissed his cheek. Matias’ hand went to his wife’s swelling stomach during the embrace. Catalina stared at the ceiling.
“Don’t you all look divine! I’m being put to shame,” Ella said with a chuckle, her cheeks rosy and copper eyes standing out against her metallic gown.
Matias rolled his eyes. “Hardly, darling. Gold has always been your colour.”
Rafael nudged Hugo who shoved him back. Catalina grabbed one ear of each and pinched hard. She kept eyeing her mother. Look my way, look my way! I need to tell you . . . Or did she? I don’t want to ruin her night before it even begins. Catalina swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Announcing King Matias, Queen Ella, Prince Rafael, Prince Hugo, and Princess Catalina,” the announcer bellowed. The velvet curtain pulled back and the royal family was greeted with applause and bows from their subjects as they glided down the massive staircase. Catalina smiled shyly at the crowd. There were so many people, at least one hundred more than the month before. She waved like she had been taught, trying not to shake, and she noticed her mother did the same, but with more confidence.
Please, don’t let me fall.
The sixteen-year-old pushed aside a black wave that slipped past her veil. She wished she had time to wash the sweat from her tan skin before being thrown into the royal ball. Then again, she supposed she deserved such handling since she ignored her mother’s orders to stay in the castle for the day. It was just too hard to resist a jaunt in the country. At least the queen hadn’t sent her precious doves after the princess.
She pushed herself away from the window’s ledge and shut the red curtains. Catalina glanced up at her white-washed ceiling and sighed. Her bedroom, although quaint and less extravagant than the rest of the castle, was the princess’ favourite place next to the great outdoors. No one could enter without her permission, namely her younger brothers. She wondered what trouble they managed to get into while she was gone.
A loud knock came from the arched door. “Princess, may we come in?”
She glanced at the raised stool placed in front of her large, oval mirror, at the gown hanging off the sewing model. “Yes.”
Her maids filed in one by one in a row and took over the quiet space she called home. The princess was moved to the stool and spread her arms as she was stripped of her hunting habit and forced into the ball gown specially crafted by her mother. She was used to these creations to the point where she could at least stand them, but no matter the colour or arrangement, she always felt like a pumpkin. As she intently watched the maids work on the raspberry skirt, she grew somewhat fond of the dress.
At least it isn’t orange. Visions of last month’s ball flashed before her and the princess shuddered. Such a horrible thing. How did I ever get through the night? Her best friend Patrice likely helped her sneak out.
“There, Princess, how’s that?” Gloria, an aged maid with sagging jowls, asked with needles sticking out from her tattered sleeve. With her beady eyes scanning the dress for any last touches, all five maids waited anxiously for the princess’s approval.
Catalina tilted her head slightly, watching as loose waves of coal framed her dark cheeks. The dress, with vertical lines cutting across the straight skirts, looked decadent on her, or that was how her mother would phrase it when she saw her later.
“It will do. Hand me the amber necklace and matching earrings.” One of the newer maids, still clumsy in her movements, dashed over to the desk and tripped on the carpet. Her face flushed and Catalina tried not to look as Gloria gave the girl a tongue lashing. Gloria herself grabbed the jewellery and clasped it around the princess’ neck. Catalina grinned when she saw the finished product.
“Thank you, ladies. You’re dismissed.” The maids curtseyed simultaneously then filed out of the room.
Catalina shifted her eyes to the door. “Gloria, where are my brothers?” She couldn’t put it off any longer.
The head maid paused. “I believe the princes are with His Majesty in the West Wing Library. Would the princess like me to fetch them?”
Catalina stepped off the stool she had balanced on for the last half hour and shook her head. “No, I can fetch them. It will give me something to do. Thank you, Gloria.”
Once Gloria was gone, she went over to her closet and pushed back the clothes. She placed both hands against the back of the closet and pushed, hard. The board fell back and revealed a hidden doorway leading towards the West Wing. She picked up her skirts and went inside. It helped to have a suspicious great-grandfather who thought secret passages were necessary. It certainly cuts down on walking in these ridiculous shoes.
As she hurried along, trying not to get her skirts dirty, Catalina envisioned what the evening held for her. Introduction, dancing, dinner, dancing again, making unwanted conversation with gentlemen then dancing with said men yet again, and finally, goodnight!
She would give anything to skip the men and simply dash over to the stables. Perhaps Patrice would be up for a short jaunt in the country. Catalina envisioned what her mother would say if she caught her, and decided tempting fate a second time wouldn’t be wise. She had to get used to following her mother’s lead, or so her father told her.
Catalina came upon a torch and gave a swift pull. The stones moved aside and she walked out into the dimly lit hallway. She squinted then turned on her heel once she found her bearings. To her right she heard the low drawl of her father. Did he move from the library? She picked up her skirts and went over to the door where she thought the voice was coming from.
She tried the handle. The door was locked. Strange, she thought. These rooms were only used for special occasions, like her mother’s birthday or a tournament, when the castle was overflowing with guests. Again she heard her father’s voice, this time clearer. Following after it was a woman’s, but it wasn’t her mother’s.
God be good, not again. She bit her lower lip, trying not to tear the skin, and bent down to get a look through the key hole.
Her father’s back was to the doorway. He looked to be doing up the buttons on his waistcoat. A pair of female hands laced around his neck, drawing his head down for a kiss. An innocent part of her heart thought it could be her mother, but Catalina shook her head. The queen would be in her own chambers preparing for the ball. She had no time to socialize.
Catalina didn’t need to see anything else. The princess rose to her feet then knocked loudly.
“Father, are you almost ready for the ball?” Her voice shook.
Matias cursed quietly. “Tell your mother I’ll be there soon, Cat.”
His daughter did not reply. She found her brothers soon after in the library, just where she was told they would be. The princess wondered who fed Gloria the lie about her father’s whereabouts.
Rafael and Hugo dueled across the Persian carpets, messing up their dark curls and knocking over pieces of furniture. She walked around their little battle, watching the flames reflect off the gold buttons that lined their long coats. She noticed a tear in Hugo’s ruffled, long-sleeved shirt.
“What on earth are you two doing?”
“Dueling,” Rafael, the elder, grunted. “What does it look like?”
Catalina shook her head, clasping her elbows with her opposite hands. “Mother won’t like you covered in sweat. She’ll know.”
Hugo shrugged. “It’s not as if you aren’t as sweaty as we are, dear Sister.”
She sighed. Her brothers were some of the most unruly gentlemen in the kingdom, or so said her mother. Catalina went to the window and rested there, watching Rafael hack away at his brother. She shook her head. Rafael had such a foul temper some days; she wondered where he got it from. Her mind drifted to her father, and the thought stopped there.
When they were little, she remembered wrestling with Rafael in the nursery. He wouldn’t let her win, so the “tournament” went on for hours until Ella came back from chapel. Once she saw them, she pulled them apart and sent them both to different rooms until bedtime. She explained how Catalina couldn’t behave in such a way because she was a princess and “princesses do not get into barbaric fights, no matter how tempting.”
The princess took a step back and turned to the windowpane. Outside, the sun began to set. Carriages still lined up to the palace doors. She recognized a few faces from this height, but she still couldn’t see Patrice. I don’t think I can make it through this event without her.
The door opened. She thought it was her father, but instead a maid with pock marks curtseyed before them. Her gaze went to Rafael and Catalina found her heart turning green with envy. Everyone looked to her brother, despite her holding the “eldest sibling” card.
“Your Highness, the queen requests you meet her at the entrance to the ballroom for your introduction.”
Rafael grunted at the maid. Catalina thanked her then went to her brothers. “You heard the maid. Sheath those swords, both of you. What would Father say if he saw you like this?”
Hugo shrugged. “We’ve done worse.”
Rafael just smirked. All three knew Matias wouldn’t care one wit if the boys were misbehaving.
The royal princess rolled her eyes. “I doubt that would make our mother feel better.” Catalina led the way to the ballroom.
She spotted her mother lingering by the red curtain. Catalina saw she was trying to inspect her work before it was too late to fix an error. Catalina watched as the queen found her husband, who had snuck up behind the princess. Ella glided over and kissed his cheek. Matias’ hand went to his wife’s swelling stomach during the embrace. Catalina stared at the ceiling.
“Don’t you all look divine! I’m being put to shame,” Ella said with a chuckle, her cheeks rosy and copper eyes standing out against her metallic gown.
Matias rolled his eyes. “Hardly, darling. Gold has always been your colour.”
Rafael nudged Hugo who shoved him back. Catalina grabbed one ear of each and pinched hard. She kept eyeing her mother. Look my way, look my way! I need to tell you . . . Or did she? I don’t want to ruin her night before it even begins. Catalina swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Announcing King Matias, Queen Ella, Prince Rafael, Prince Hugo, and Princess Catalina,” the announcer bellowed. The velvet curtain pulled back and the royal family was greeted with applause and bows from their subjects as they glided down the massive staircase. Catalina smiled shyly at the crowd. There were so many people, at least one hundred more than the month before. She waved like she had been taught, trying not to shake, and she noticed her mother did the same, but with more confidence.
Please, don’t let me fall.