“But father! I do not love him!” I said.
“But honey. He’s such a fine suitor. You just have to spend more time with him,” my father said confidently. I sighed, and bit back comments. I was the princess. I was suppose to be seen, not heard. Tradition was that the king would choose the man his daughter was to marry. A tradition that I hated.
“But father-”
“Jade! Enough! You have to give him time. You can not just look at him and say you do not like him,’ my father said. I pouted, but said no more. I walked angrly to my room, and slammed the door behind me.
“Why can I not choose whom I want?” I whispered. But father wouldn’t approve anyway. The man I loved was the stable tendor. My father wouldn’t approve of a man whom spent most of his time tending to horses. No, instead I was to be married to a man I didn’t love just becasue my father liked him. It was tradition.