CHAPTER 1.
“Sophilia,” Mother began as she brushed some hair from my shoulder to my back. “This is King Erron.”
The King of Baysleth, the dark realms, stood before me.
I curtsied deeply. When I lifted my head, I had to crane far back as if I were standing before a great oak tree. The King was broad-shouldered, tall, and dressed in a fine dark blue jacket and trousers. Threads of silver ran through the fabric of his jacket, catching my attention as I ran my eyes up to his face again, and noticed his finely trimmed black beard and dark brown eyes.
He was handsome, and despite being from the dark realms, seemed friendly as he smiled down at me.
“Hello, Princess Sophilia.” Erron's voice was deep, tone kind as he took my hand and gently kissed the knuckle. Father used to do this to me when I was little. It was a sweet gesture, a sign of respect the King didn’t have to show, but he did. “You are quite a beautiful girl. Is she not, Ian?”
Erron looked to the boy standing stiffly at his side. He was just as pale as his father, with white-blond hair tucked behind his ears and peculiar light gray eyes. He wore finer clothing like his father with the same corded silver in the fabric.
“This is my son, Prince Ian. Your betrothed.”
The boy didn’t smile as he stared at me, and the one I’d forced on my lips died just as quickly. One single look told me he wasn’t happy about this arrangement. Who would be, when your partner had been decided for you? And to a complete stranger!
I was given a small portrait of Ian’s likeness one month ago when the arrangement was finalized. The rendering was accurate to the real one, now that I could compare them. The same sharp cheekbones and wide, pouted mouth, large eyes.
Except, the artist had taken some liberties with his expression. The painting, which I had studied for an embarrassingly long time over the past few weeks, gave me the impression that Ian would be gentle and kind, much like his father. I gathered this from how his eyes stared back at you with calmness, the light gray of his eyes reminded me early morning just before sunrise.
I was utterly smitten with his face.
But the real Ian standing before me looked… Cold. Even colder than Erron, who had a prickly reputation but at least tried to show some form of friendly manners to me and my parents.
Still, I held my hand out to him as a gesture of goodwill, another thing Father had instructed me to do. The boy stared at my hand and his nostrils flared with a suppressed sneer. He didn’t even want to touch me.
This was getting off to a splendid start, wasn’t it?
Ian glanced at his father in a questioning plea, and the older man nodded to him. With reluctance, the boy took my hand and shook it.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, trying again with cordiality as my mother pressed a warm, supportive hand to my back.
“And you.” Ian’s words were forced as he looked everywhere but at me.
It was… really hard not to take that personally. I wasn’t the most beautiful maiden to grace the light realms, but this was my finest dress. It was made of a rich green satin, which Mother told me complemented my eye color, and was lined with white lace. She gave me a white lace choker to match.
I had taken extra pains this morning, waking up early so my handmaiden could curl my dark gold hair into lovely waves. I wore a flower crown of white yarrow, we even darkened my lashes and colored my lips a shade of light pink.
When I had looked at the finished product in the mirror, for the first time in my life, I smiled back at myself. I felt pretty... and genuinely excited to meet my betrothed. The handmaid and I had performed tiny miracles that morning, and this was as good as it was going to get.
Ian, it seemed, was less than dazzled. If only I could have shown him what I looked like before I was swathed in beautiful fabric and makeup, then he’d be impressed!
As it was, I remained humiliated by the ongoing silence and even saw the Baysleth King uncomfortably shift his standing weight to one side as he forced out a chuckle. “Ian.” He elbowed his son in encouragement.
The boy straightened to attention and frowned again, as if he was remembering instructions his father had laid out for him privately. Just as mine had done for me.
Gods, this was awkward!
“Would you like to walk with me in the garden?” Ian asked, his voice droll.
It was my turn to glance at my father, the light realm King of Algernon. He smiled and nodded down at me.
Ian’s elbow lifted as he approached my side. Not wanting to disappoint my parents, I wrapped my hand around Ian’s offered arm and we strode away together.
Our parents were whispering behind us as we left, until something was said that made them all burst into laughter.
I held back a flinch.
“I hate this,” the Prince muttered as their laughter died. I glanced up at him. Though we were likely close in age, roughly fourteen, he was practically a foot taller than I.
“As do I,” I replied.
His head turned to me. “You do?”
“Being traded like a cow for a sack of grain? What demented person would like this?” I asked.
The smallest uptick of a smile curled Ian's lips. Something in my chest bloomed when his face softened like that. Like I had won a prize for amusing him, considering how disappointed he’d been before.
And I wanted to win more, stupid and belittling as it was to feel that way. I wanted to change his mind about me. I so desperately wanted to be… liked.
“That’s a decent analogy to what this is,” Ian mused, looking forward again as we moved through my mother’s gardens. She tended to many of the impressive rose hedges herself, though it required a larger staff to maintain the grounds entirely. It was a beautiful spring day, and I was glad we could show off the palace at its best.
“And our parents seem to take pleasure in our discomfort,” I added, glancing over my shoulder at the four who watched from afar.
“Then let me do what I was tasked with so that we may end this… discomfort,” he said. Ian still couldn’t look at me, and I felt utterly repulsive again. “Tell me about yourself.”
My fingers nervously fiddled together. “Um, what do you want to know?”
Ian flicked me a bored look. “Your birth sign?”
“Sun Archer.” It meant I was born in the daytime, early winter. “Yours?”
“Moon Aquine.”
I had read somewhere that all monarchs from the dark realm were born in the nighttime. In Ian's case, sometime in late winter or early spring.
“Do you have hobbies?” Ian asked, still sounding so terribly disinterested.
“I can play the piano, though I’m not as good as my older sister. If you’d like a headache, I would be glad to play for you sometime.”
He didn’t laugh or even smile. Most people liked self-deprecating humor, but Ian wasn’t one of them.
“Then, how do you fill your time, if not by practicing piano?” he asked.
I glanced away and bit my bottom lip. Did I share this part of myself with him? Would he laugh at me?
“What is it?” We had stopped walking. I watched some of his blonde hair cross over his forehead. He looked interested, for once. And was staring at me. Which gave me enough courage to speak:
“I’m writing a book.”
His eyebrows raised. “You are? What about?”
Well, he didn’t mock me outright. That was a positive start.
“It’s a… comedy.” My cheeks flared as I spoke, now regretting that I had brought this up at all, and I didn't miss that his lips turned downward into a frown. “About a Duke who has a malady in his behind–”
“Do you know anything of the dark realms?” Ian interjected.
“Um, no. Not really.”
“I know everything about your Kingdom. I attend all of my father’s advisory and military meetings. I know which borders they defend. Where they practice trade, our economy and yours. Can you say you know anything about the state of the world? Are you even aware we are nearing war with the northern region of Tazalum?”
“I… think I knew that.” I had heard Father talk about it during dinner a few weeks back. But he had never invited me to his military or political meetings. Not even my older sister attended them, as far as I knew.
Ian responded with a condescending scoff. “It’s not conjecture. It’s fact. We are on the brink of war. My country and yours, together, against the northerners. You and I are a representation of our country’s alliances.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“Does it? Because you seem to know nothing about it.”
“I know I’m to marry you,” I replied quietly.
“Which means nothing to me at present.” He lifted his chin, staring with disappointment. And somehow, that felt even worse than disdain.
“I am the future King of Baysleth.” His gaze flickered over to our parents, who were now chatting animatedly, having no idea what was happening over here. “They will not be the ones left to deal with incompetence, I will. I will not tolerate weakness or embarrassment, or be dragged down by anyone less than worthy of me or my Kingdom.”
My hands clenched into fists, surprised by the anger that rose in me. “You don’t know me. How can you say that I’m unworthy after a two-minute exchange?” I was supposed to be sweet and docile for this man, per my father’s instructions, but I don’t think Father expected Ian to be so… rude.
“That is all the time I needed. You don’t know anything about my Kingdom, or even your own. You are content to put flowers in your hair and write little stories while wars rage on your behalf. Are you not ashamed?”
That was… true.
My shoulders slumped as I fought back a sting of tears. As a Princess, I was pampered. Spoiled and coddled. I knew I was to be Queen of his realm. Even so, it still seemed a lifetime away.
I…I was only fourteen! This was supposed to be a simple meeting, where two people could get to know each other so we wouldn’t be strangers at the altar.
But Ian seemed far more mature and serious than I realized. If he were thrust to the throne tomorrow, no doubt he would be a competent King.
But me?
I’d be completely lost. And utterly terrified.
A fat, unseemly tear tracked down my cheek as I lifted my gaze and was horrified to see Ian smirking at me.
He liked that he’d affected me by belittling my intelligence.
And in the heat of the moment, I had no retort or witty comeback. Instead, my throat felt tight and clogged and my mind completely blank, making me an even bigger fool.
I wish I could say that I stomped off from Ian looking proud and aloof.
Instead, while ducking my head, I turned like a coward and ran.
My housecarl Tavus found me fifteen minutes later around the time I’d run out of tears.
I was seated against a stone wall of the palace perimeter near a barn. I hadn’t heard him coming over the sounds of the horses snorting in their stables and goats bleating.
A shadow loomed over me and I looked up.
Tavus was in his thirties and had a handsome face, black hair with light, warm brown skin, and hazel eyes that teetered on green. His thumbs were hooked into his leather pants, his belt sagged with the weight of the sword’s sheath at his left hip.
“What did the little shit say to make you run away, Filly?” he asked.
I rubbed the side of my hand under my eyes self-consciously, knowing that the black makeup I wore had run. I probably looked like a rabid raccoon.
“He said I was unworthy,” I whispered.
Slowly, he lowered himself in front of me until he was fully squatted.
“Run that by me again?” I could hear the tenseness in his voice.
I pressed my face against my drawn-up knees, feeling the sting of fresh tears. “I don’t want to.”
“Filly.” A large, calloused hand rested upon my shoulder. I smelled the leather he wore and let it soak into my senses. Tavus worked for my family long before I was even born, and his scent had become familiar and comforting to me.
“He’s a boy. Gods, he’s barely lost all his baby teeth by the looks of it. He knows nothing of judging worthiness.”
My heart clenched, torn between Ian’s cruel words and Tavus’s kind ones. I was more apt to believe Ian. Tavus was lying to make me feel better. And… Ian didn’t care. His smirk proved that.
“You don’t even know why he said that,” I whispered. “You weren’t there.”
“I don’t need to know, and I don’t care what a bratty prince thinks. I know you better than him.” He rose to his feet abruptly. “I’m going to talk to your father. I knew this marriage arrangement was a mistake–”
“No!” I shot my hand out and grasped his forearm. “Tavus, don’t.”
He stared down at me, his fiery, intense stare making me realize he was more angry than even I was. Tavus was hurt for me.
“It’s okay. Ian… wasn’t wrong. He thinks I’m naive and spoiled. I don’t know much about the Kingdom’s affairs. Or his Kingdom’s affairs. He talked about a war coming, and I… I had no idea–”
“You’ve barely turned fourteen,” he interrupted gruffly. “You don’t need to know all of that.”
I frowned, tracing a circle over my kneecap. “But I should… shouldn’t I? I can barely point out his Kingdom on a map, nonetheless tell you anything about it. All I do is…”
“Live. You have a life, Filly. This is what your parents wished for you and your siblings. To have a simple, happy childhood. I don't want you to be in those war rooms, nor does your Father. The time to learn to be a Queen will come, but not now. Stand up.”
I did as he asked, dusting off my skirts from my lovely dress that…. I didn’t really think was lovely anymore.
Tavus lifted my chin with his forefinger and thumb and smiled with his ridiculously handsome face at me, his white teeth a start contrast with his dark skin, his black hair brushing across his forehead so beautifully. Gods! I wish I could marry him instead.
My cheeks flared a deep red as I stared up at him.
“You’re going to return to the dining hall and have lunch with the Prince and his parents. You’ll slog through it. And when they leave tonight, you’ll go back to your life as it was and you’ll forget everything the brat ever said to you.”
Well… easier said than done.
I opened my mouth to speak, but another tear spilled down my cheeks. Defeated, I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I’m pathetic, Tavus."
“Then you’re letting him win. And the Filly I know doesn’t quit. She’s competitive and tenacious. And annoying as all hell.”
Holding back a smile, I felt him fix and straighten the flower crown on my head.
“He’s your peer. Not your superior. Don’t ever let him make you feel less than.”
“Okay.” I swiped under my nose one more time and then straightened up as we began our return to the castle’s entrance. “I can do that.”
“'Atta girl. Hurry your pace, I want to get to the dining hall before they do.”
“Why?”
Tavus procured a black, rubbery cushion that was the size of a saucer from his pocket. I recognized it immediately as a prank toy my brother and I had joined our allowance money together to buy at a fair several years ago.
The device was inflated with air, and when someone sat on it… well, it made quite a funny, indecent sound.
My father found it less than endearing when we tried using it on a 80-year-old ambassador from a country we were still in terse relations with. Tavus had been the one to to confiscate it. I had no idea he’d kept it this whole time.
“I’m going to bribe your little brother with a few gold coins and see if he’ll slip this in the Prince’s chair.” Tavus grinned at me and I laughed aloud.
He always knew how to cheer me up.
