Chapter 2: The Prince

Despite her exhaustion, Gwen’s first night at the palace was a sleepless one. She had been given a typical guest room, comfortable but plain, with a bathroom attached to the bedroom and her luggage already carried up. It wasn’t as nice as her room back home, but that wasn’t what kept Gwen up at night. She woke at even the slightest of sounds, rising frequently to make sure the door was still locked and there was no one hiding in the corners of her room, waiting for her to fall back asleep before striking. Furniture and paintings, fuzzy in the dark, transformed into assassins and ghoulish faces.

Gwen dreamt of her father, like she did every once in a while. But instead of the happy memories that shone with sunlight and blurred at the edges, she found only nightmarish imaginings. She was in Rialta palace again in a room just like this one, only everything seemed so much bigger. She heard the scream again, listened to the sheets rustle as Evangeline ran out of the room in her nightgown as long and white as a ghost.

Then Gwen and her father switched places and suddenly the screaming was coming from her, only her mouth was making no sound at all. Red bloomed from the middle of her chest, her mother cradling her with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes.

Gwen awoke with a start, soft early morning light filtering through the blue tulle curtains. She put a hand under her pillow, panicking briefly before her fingers found the cool handle of her dagger. She breathed a sigh of relief and drew it out. Heartbeat slowing, Gwen checked the room once more before relaxing and rolling onto her back. She held the knife up and unsheathed it, running her fingers along the well-worn handle and letting the familiar shape calm her.

She knew every inch of this knife, from its polished ebony handle to the tarnished gold embellishments to the engravings on the long silver blade. Gwendolyn Anastasia Moorkavia. She flipped the blade over. Don’t trust anyone. She had read those words hundreds of times, maybe even a thousand. She had only been six when her mother had first given her this knife, but she still remembered what Eira had said.

“Keep it with you, always,” she said, folding Gwen’s hands around the handle. “Under your pillow when you sleep and at your side when you’re awake.”

“Why?” Gwen said.

“Because,” Eira pulled the knife out of its sheath and Gwen read the words there for the first time. “You never know who might try to hurt you.”

“Like someone hurt Father?”

Eira pursed her lips and stood up. “Yes, like someone hurt Father.” The silver, intricate dagger had remained at Gwen’s side ever since, until strapping it on under her clothes every morning had become a habit as routine as brushing her teeth.

Gwen rolled out of bed to shower and get dressed. She was twisting her hair into a tight bun when a knock sounded on her door. Gwen spit the pins out of her mouth and swiveled to see the clock on her nightstand. It was five minutes to breakfast. Was it the prince at her door, here to escort her downstairs? Gwen checked the mirror one more time and opened the door.

Much to her dismay, it was not Prince Will that stood outside but his hulking guard, towering over her. “Will asked me to escort you to breakfast,” he said.

“Oh,” was all Gwen could think to say. She slipped out of her room, careful to keep a bit of distance between them. She didn’t know how to act around him. Were guards supposed to be politely ignored? Were they equals? Did she outrank him, or did he have more authority? Thankfully, Candon started down the hall and she followed. The short walk was spent in total silence, as if they each expected the other to speak first. It was obvious the guard had not warmed up to her, and Gwen was not going to be the first to break.

They made it all the way to the Great Hall without exchanging a word. The chatter of the room overwhelmed Gwen as they stepped inside, but much to her surprise, Candon led her straight through the clusters of tables and to a side door.

“Where are we going?” Gwen said as he held open the door.

“Breakfast,” he answered. They walked along a path of mossy stone pavers and past a row of potted fruit trees. Candon snapped an orange off and peeled it as they walked, the sweet citrusy scent mixing with the crisp morning air. They walked across a wide green lawn, still a little damp with morning dew and interrupted only by a white gazebo at the far end. Will and Calida were already sitting around a circular breakfast table as Gwen and Candon approached the gazebo and veered away from each other to opposite sides of the table.

“You’re here!” Will said, looking up and smiling.

“Ahlan wa sahlan,” Calida greeted them, already sipping a steaming cup of black tea with her feet up on the chair next to her.

“What’s for breakfast?” Candon asked, pulling the chair out from under her feet and sitting in it. Calida made a face at him, but she forgot about the slight immediately as Candon handed her the other half of his orange.

“I asked the cooks to make traditional food from each of your home kingdoms, so you wouldn’t feel so homesick,” Will answered. “For Calida, eggs, labneh, and za’atar…” Gwen recognized the Niranian style eggs in a dish on the table, as well as a bowl of yogurt. She didn’t recognize the bread he’d pointed to, flatbread with some kind of dried seeds or sauce on it, but Calida had taken several helpings of it. “And for Gwen, cherry vareniki, Moorkavian toast, rye bread, and raspberry jam.”

“Thank you,” Gwen said, looking at the table. The back of her throat ached as she saw the familiar dishes set out among the other foods as if they belonged there, as if having plates of vareniki and grenki between the pancakes and orange-juice pitcher was an everyday occurrence in Rialta.

They dug in, serving themselves whatever they wanted and occasionally asking the other to pass them a dish. Gwen was touched by Will’s thoughtfulness. The delicious, familiar tastes did remind her of home, in the best possible way. 

“I was thinking we could go horseback riding today,” Will said, speaking to them all. “You can get the lay of the land and familiarize yourself a bit. I can show you some of my favorite spots around town.”

“Sounds fun,” Calida said. “Where are we going?”

“The beach, of course,” Will began. “Although there is this little cafe along Cornelia Street that I really like…” Gwen’s attention trailed away from the conversation as she looked past Will to the rest of the gardens. Past the lawn and citrus trees she could see flashes of color between yellow-green bushes, a formal garden of sorts. Beyond that was a thick green hedge wall. A maze, maybe?

“I’ll have to show you the gardens sometime,” Will said.

Gwen snapped back to reality. “What?”

“I said I’ll have to show you the gardens sometime,” the prince repeated. “Just the two of us. You know, a tour of the castle grounds.”

“Just the two of us?” she blurted out. Her mind skipped through a million different scenarios in a second. It was an ambush. It was a joke. It was a trap to get her alone. He knew the lay of the land, but she was several inches taller than him. He didn’t look to be stronger than the average person of his height and build, but she knew better than to underestimate an opponent.

“Yeah, if that’s alright,” he said, smiling. Gwen’s brain skipped around in a panic, his easy smile beginning to fade. “I mean, I can ask Candon to come along if you would prefer not to–” he stammered.

“No no, that’s not what I meant,” Gwen said quickly, realizing she had taken too long to answer. Involving the guard would mean she’d be outnumbered, but the fact he hadn’t included him initially meant it was less likely to be a trap. Which meant he wasn’t trying to trick her– he was trying to ask her out. She looked down at her breakfast. “Sorry. That would be great.”

Will looked flustered, his ears turning bright red. “Sure, we can talk about it later.”

Gwen lost her nerve and bit into a piece of toast, feeling embarrassment burn her face. She snuck a look at Calida, knowing she had been witness to the awkward exchange and hoping the other girl had pretended not to notice.

Calida had definitely noticed. “Oh my god,” she mouthed to Gwen conspiratorially, tilting her head in Will’s direction when he wasn’t looking and giving her an encouraging smile.

Gwen smiled back as best she could, but her mind was still scrambling. If Calida approved of a relationship between her and Will, did this mean she didn’t hate her? Were they friends now? Was that a good thing?

And what was with her own reaction to Will’s offer? He’d been being friendly, and she’d nearly ruined it. Will was nice enough from what she’d seen so far, and thoughtful if the breakfast was any indication. His kingdom was beautiful, and he didn’t look half-bad himself. There were far worse matches that could have been made.

Yet she couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. She barely knew him. There was no reason to believe the prince was anything other than he appeared to be, but her mother’s warning echoed in her head nevertheless: Don’t trust anyone.