My head felt fuzzy, as if it were stuffed with wool. I often felt this way when I’d slept too long. I reached out, sighing and stretching awake, then heard someone gasp. My eyes shot open, but it took me a few minutes to process what I saw.

I was lying in my bed, exactly where I’d gone to sleep the previous night. My bedchambers were as they always were… except they were full of people. An older couple stood beside me, the man holding a sobbing woman. Near the couple, ranging down one side of my bed, were more people: courtiers, judging by their appearance. They hung back but stared openly at me. All very strange things to awaken to, indeed. But the strangest of all was the man beside me.

He stood alone on the opposite side of my bed, and he was gorgeous. The kind of man women followed in the street because they just couldn’t help themselves. I’d seen his kind before, and my usual reaction was to ignore them. His type wasn’t worth the trouble. I was a princess. I needed to be the one who was fawned over. I could hardly be seen fawning over someone else. That simply wasn’t appropriate.

So I gave his striking features only a cursory glance, stopping infinitesimally longer on his eyes. I couldn’t help myself; they were green, like moss in the deepest part of the woods, and they nearly shimmered. My gaze skittered away from his, then headed downward: across the width of his chest, the muscles in his shoulders, and his corded forearms. He was beautiful and built like a warrior. That just wasn’t fair.

“Seraphine.”

I heard my mother’s voice and turned to look for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Seraphine, it’s me,” the older woman said.

I peered closer, beyond the wrinkles and gray hair to the pale blue eyes, the pert nose, and the freckle on her cheek.

“Mother!” I sat up and shrieked.

Everyone in the room drew back……... except for my parents and that beautiful man. My parents! Yes, that old man was my father.

“What? How?” I shook my head. A memory tried to surface, more an echo of a thought. “Did something happen to me?”

“Oh, my beautiful girl.” My mother crumpled over me and hugged me to her as my father sobbed openly.

“Mother?” I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sad, but I was beginning to get scared. “Tell me what’s happened. You’re frightening me.”

“You were asleep,” the beautiful man said. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all: thoughts, images, feelings?”

“I went to sleep, and…” I frowned. “I think there was someone in my room.”

“There was,” the man confirmed. “A witch. We don’t know who cast the spell on you, Princess, but it was strong. It put you into a sort of holding state. You were asleep, but you didn’t age.”

My mother cried brokenly, covering her lined face with her hands.

“Seraphine.” My father stroked my hair away from my face. “It’s so good to look into your eyes again.”

“Father, who did this to me? Why?”

“We think it was Queen Meara who sent the witch,” my father growled, “because we wouldn’t give you to her son in marriage.”

“So she put me to sleep?” I couldn’t understand why she would choose that, of all the horrible things she could have done. “Why not just kill me?”

“Because she wanted your parents to suffer,” the stranger said.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” I asked him. “You look a little familiar.”

“We have met”—he smiled softly—“in a dream.”

“In a dream?” I said with confusion. Something tickled at the back of my mind.

“Your dream, to be exact.” He took my hand, and my parents eased back.

I frowned from them to him, then caught the glimmer of gold on my hand: the hand he lifted to his lips to kiss. I was still trying to figure out where the ring had come from when his lips touched my skin. The contact sent something zinging through me, some kind of awareness. I inhaled sharply and looked up into his face. His eyes were glowing softly, focused intently on me. His lips still hovered above my hand, and he looked pointedly down to the gold band.

“You mean it literally, don’t you?” I whispered. “You were in my dreams.”

“It was the only way to reach you and free you from the spell,” he said softly.

“You were the one who broke the spell?” I asked him with surprise.

“We did it together, Seraphine,” he corrected me gently. “There was only one way to break the curse—true love. You called to me, and I journeyed here. Your parents told me of the curse, and I vowed to save you. I worked on a cure for months before I found a way to enter your dreams. But in the end, it took the both of us to break the spell.”

“The both of us?” I blinked. “True love? What are you talking about?”

“We fell in love in your dreams, Seraphine.” He said with a soft look. “And we were married. My name is Rune Bromley, and I’m your husband.”