Fantastical by Kristen Ashley, now you can read online.
Chapter One
Holy Crap
I heard birds.
They were singing. Not chirping. Singing. It wasn’t birdsong. It was just plain, old song but in chirps. It was hard to describe but there it was.
A lot of it.
It made me open my eyes.
Then I blinked and felt it. I was lying down in a bed but not my bed. The mattress was strange, very soft, very plush. I wasn’t on it, I was in it. It partially enveloped my body like a warm, comfortable, squashy cloud.
What on earth?
I stared at the sun washed walls, felt the bed and heard the strange birdsong.
One thing I knew for certain. I was not home.
I shot straight to sitting in the bed and looked around the room.
I was in a four-poster bed, gossamer, pale lilac curtains all around, a fluffy, pale lilac-covered duvet on top. The walls of the room were an even paler lilac and I looked around at the bizarre, white furniture.
A big wardrobe with scrolled feet, the sides bowed in, the top an arch. It was bulky and yet delicate. A miracle of construction. There was no way that wardrobe could stand on those flimsy, curled feet but it was.
Two tall dressers: one that zigged at the top, zagged in the middle and zigged again at the bottom; another whose drawers went up like steps on one side, a different miracle of construction for it appeared to be teetering yet stood true.
Then there was a dressing table with a big oval mirror on the top and two smaller ones to its side. The dressing table was also delicate with curly whirls for legs, around the mirrors and carved into the three drawers down either side. It was covered in fragile, intricate glass bottles, all of them in various shades of purple.
“Holy crap, I’m dreaming,” I whispered.
That had to be it. I was dreaming. Dreaming the most freaking real dream I had ever had in my life.
Suddenly, the door flew open. I jumped and looked to my right to see a blonde woman dance into the room wearing and old-fashioned blinding white nightgown, the voluminous kind that had a string at the neckline and gathers all around.
Yeesh, how did she get that nightgown so white? I was never good at keeping whites white. They always grayed out.
It had to be new.
Oh wait, this was a dream. Of course it would be that white.
“Cora!” she cried my name, whirling into the room, “Cora, Cora, Cora! Today is the best day of my life!”
She stopped at the foot of the bed, shoved a diaphanous curtain aside and smiled down at me while I stared up at her.
Whoa. Seriously. She was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes. Thick blonde hair. Delicate features. Petite. A stunner.
“Can you believe it?” she asked then clapped her hands. “I’m getting married today!”
“Uh –” I started but she rocked swiftly up to her toes and then danced gracefully on them to one of the two sets of French doors that were on either side of the dressing table.
She flung them open, the birdsong stopped, she stepped out on a Juliet balcony and threw her arms up and out to the sides.
Then she let out two beautiful, perfect notes in a gorgeous soprano, the birdsong started again, in earnest this time (and I thought it was earnest before) and I blinked through the sheer curtains as I saw a tiny colorful bird (and I knew there were colorful birds in the world but there weren’t birds that colorful) alight on her outstretched hand.
She brought the bird to her face and the bird chirped gaily at her instead of flying away.
Then she told the bird, “I’m getting married to the man I love today, Aggie! Isn’t that marvelous?”