The Bruised Princess: Once Upon a Short Story, #3

By A.G. Marshall

A desperate girl on a stormy night...

Rachel is searching for sanctuary from her abusive father, but finds herself a guest in the castle instead. Why does everyone assume she is important, and why do they insist that she sleep on an enormous mattress tower?

Can she unravel the mystery and find a happy ending, or will she be trapped in something even worse? See for yourself in this romantic retelling of The Princess and the Pea.

The Bruised Princess is book three in the Once Upon a Short Story collection.
Discover a unique twist on your favorite fairy tales with these standalone adventures!


This short story of 6,500 words (about 25 pages) was originally given as a gift to my newsletter subscribers. Trigger warning: contains mentions of physical and verbal abuse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avanell Publishing
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201468941

Book preview

The Bruised Princess

A Short Story Retelling of The Princess and the Pea

A. G. Marshall

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Contents

The Bruised Princess

Author’s Note

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The Bruised Princess

No.

The word that had sealed Rachel’s fate echoed through her head with each thunderclap. It roared on each gust of wind.

No.

She stumbled and fell. Cobblestone streets were difficult in the daylight and treacherous at night. Her gauzy silk skirt ripped as her knee hit the rocks so hard that she knew it would bruise.

At this point, one more bruise wouldn’t matter.

I won’t.

She should have run sooner. Should have bolted out the door as soon as Bette pulled the gown from the wardrobe. It was far too fine for an ordinary dinner, even one with company. She should have sensed trouble at once.

By the time she had realized what was happening, Father had her in his iron grip. He guided her to the table, looking solicitous to the casual observer as he held her arm. When she balked, he pinched hard enough to cause the first bruise of the evening.

Rachel stopped running to catch her breath. Rain and tears mixed together and streamed down her face. The downpour had extinguished all the lamps, and the streets were unlit. She had been to the city a few times, but she didn’t know it well enough to find the church in the dark. She waited for the next flash of lightning and searched the horizon for towers.

There. Lightning snaked across the sky and framed a pair of tall spires.

I won’t.

She whispered into the wind to reassure herself. No one else believed her, but she meant it.

Now that she knew which way to go, she resumed her jogging across the slippery cobblestones. She held back a groan as every inch of her protested the movement.

Well, almost every inch. They had spared her face and hands and any skin that a fine dress would show. No man wanted to take a visibly battered bride to the altar.

Rachel