Chapter 1: The Princess

Every instinct in Gwen’s body screamed to run.

Instead, she pasted on a smile that barely hid the panic in her eyes as she and her sister descended the steps in the Great Hall of Rialta palace, uninvited, unexpected, unwanted. Their heels echoed on the tiled steps and Gwen could feel her pale skin flushing with the weight of so many stares. It seemed everyone in the kingdom was watching, whispering to each other in shocked silence at the sudden reappearance of Moorkavian royalty.

It had been fifteen years since she’d been here last.

Her older sister gripped her arm tightly, but whether it was because of her own nervousness or to keep Gwen from bolting she couldn’t say. Evangeline had been ten years old the last time they’d stepped foot in this palace. Old enough to remember everything in vivid, nightmarish, haunting memory.

Gwen remembered none of it, but it didn’t matter. Evangeline wasn’t the one here to marry a prince.

“Which one is he?” Gwen whispered as softly as she could. But Evangeline didn’t need to answer, because at the far end of the room a boy about her own age was pushing back his chair and coming to greet them, dressed in traditional Rialtan blue. As he reached them, she saw fair hair, freckles, and blue eyes. These features, at least, tugged at some memory from the back of her mind.

“Hello, your Highnesses,” he said as Gwen and Evangeline curtsied. The prince took Evangeline’s hand and kissed it with a bow, then turned to Gwen, his touch soft and gentle. The room breathed again, tension shifting into a new sort of energy now that the ice was broken. Gwen hoped he couldn’t tell how clammy her hands had become. “I’m Prince Will. Welcome to Rialta.”

“We’re unexpected, I’m sure,” Evangeline said in awkward Rialtan.

“Yes, sorry about that,” Gwen added nervously.

Will gestured them further into the room, giving Gwen a smile that didn’t quite smooth over the lingering tension in the room. But it helped.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answered. “Won’t you sit?”

The girls followed as the prince led them to a long table, and Gwen allowed the prince to pull out a chair for her as she sat. Dishes she didn’t quite recognize sat in the middle of the table, their delicious aroma reminding Gwen she’d barely eaten all day, too preoccupied with travel and stress. A servant hurriedly placed dinnerware in front of her and Evangeline, and Gwen reached for the serving spoon from the dish in front of her. The rest of the table had already been served, but Gwen felt it rude to ask everything to be passed around again.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re here,” Evangeline said, her hands folded in her lap. She was fidgeting under the table, a nervous tic she and Gwen shared and one that Evangeline preferred to keep hidden. Gwen supposed it was a relief Evangeline was just as scared as she was.

“Well, yes,” the prince admitted. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Not that you aren’t welcome here,” he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. Another tell. He must have been nervous too. “Because you are, I mean.”

Everyone knew they weren’t welcome, but Gwen appreciated the diplomacy.

“The tradition, your Highness,” Evangeline said. “You recently turned twenty-one, didn’t you?”

The head of the girl next to Gwen shot up in surprise. “What?”

“Yes,” the prince stammered. His eyes flicked from Evangeline to Gwen to the Niranian girl who’d spoken. Gwen could tell he was fighting to maintain a slippery grip on diplomacy, but failing to hide his shock.

Gwen couldn’t blame him. When the Rialtan prince came of age, it was a tradition for him to choose a princess from among the surrounding kingdoms to marry. That princess would rule alongside him as the next queen of Rialta. It was a bizarre and outdated tradition, but she was here, wasn’t she? If things went according to plan, she was to be that queen.

“And you are?” Evangeline said to the girl, no doubt intending to intimidate her.

“Calida Niran,” the girl said, unimpressed. “Princess Calida Niran.”

“You mean to say that all three of you are to…?” the prince said incredulously, still reeling.

“Try and marry you? No, no,” Evangeline assured him in an almost deadpan voice. “I have my own business to attend to. Gwen will be the only one staying at the palace. As per tradition, of course.”

“Of course,” the prince repeated, speechless. He looked around as if for help. Gwen blushed, feeling awkward on his behalf. Luckily, Calida came to the rescue, turning to Gwen with a smirk.

“Looks like I have some competition,” she said, extending her hand to shake. Gwen extended her hand hesitatingly. Although Calida’s words were not necessarily friendly, her smile seemed to be more teasing than malicious.

“For goodness sake, I don’t bite.” Calida rolled her eyes, thick black lashes turning skyward. Long black hair framed her features and reached almost to her waist. Her wide smile and deep dimples were the cherry on top of an already-gorgeous sundae. This was the crown princess of Niran. Had Gwen arrived, this was who the prince was supposed to marry. This was her rival.

“This is Candon,” the prince gestured, still struggling to find the right words. The grumbly young man in uniform next to the prince gave Gwen a chilly look.

Gwen returned the expression, her eyes narrowing slightly as alarm bells went off in her head. A guard, and a personal guard no less. The title instantly set her on edge, her fingertips brushing the knife hidden under her dress. She wore it often, and even slept with it under her pillow, as familiar and comforting as a stuffed animal was to a child. She peeled her attention away from the guard and took a breath.

“Nice to meet you, she told Calida. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around the palace this summer.”

“Same here!” Calida said. “I’d love to know more about your culture. We have quite a few Moorkavian refugees in Niran.”

“Sure,” Gwen said automatically. Refugees? she thought. I need to practice my Rialtan. Perhaps Calida had meant to say “immigrants,” and that was just a diplomatic slip-up. Or maybe Calida had deliberately chosen that word, passive-aggressively implying the conditions in Moorkavia were so bad the people were forced to seek refuge elsewhere. Gwen would have liked to dismiss the thought, but she couldn’t help it. What was Calida really thinking? Was she sincere, or was she just putting on a show in front of the others? Was this an act to gain information and get close to Gwen, or did Calida genuinely want to know more about her people? “So… how long have you and Will known each other?”

“Oh, forever,” Calida answered, much to Gwen’s dismay. “Every Peace Ball and Summer Solstice festival the families get together. It’s been that way since we were kids.”

The families. Rialta and Niran. Once upon a time Moorkavia had been a part of those celebrations. Now they were outsiders, intruding with an invitation that had long since expired. Whether it was intended or not, the implication was not lost on Gwen. She was not one of them.

“How is your family?” the prince asked. “Your mother, I hope she’s doing alright?”

Gwen hesitated. “Yes.”

“Couldn’t be better,” Evangeline cut in. Gwen glanced at her. In truth, the queen was practically a recluse. There were rumors she had not left Moorkavia castle in over ten years, and as far as either sister knew, the rumors were true.

Gwen returned the question politely, attempting to smooth over Evangeline’s abruptness. “How are your parents?”

“Very well, thank you,” the prince answered. “And eager to meet you after the dinner, I’m sure.”

The conversation died away, and Gwen hated the silence that descended, broken by the clink of glasses and conversations of surrounding tables. Why did meeting new people require so much effort? Why did holding a conversation take up so much energy?

“I’m sorry we were so unexpected,” Gwen blurted out. “And that we arrived right in the middle of your celebratory dinner. It’s…” She didn’t quite know what to say next. That she and Evangeline had no business being there at all? That they should have had the decency to send a letter ahead of time? She was thinking it, but she also knew that showing up unexpectedly was perhaps the only way she and Evangeline had been allowed inside at all. The Rialtans, with their pacifist history and peace-loving king and queen, might have found some way to politely avoid the situation had they been given advance warning, but they would not turn them away now that they were on their doorstep. It was awkward and rude to take advantage of them this way, but nothing could be done about it now. “I wish things could be different,” she finished.

“Don’t worry about it,” the prince said, and Gwen looked up, surprised. “It’s not the end of the world. Actually,” he shrugged, meeting her eyes. “It’s kind of nice to get caught up after all these years.”

A servant leaned over and began to clear away their plates, stacking them with a clatter. Another servant bustled by with an armful of soiled dishes and a curious but cautious glance towards the newcomers. Evangeline stood, brushing her hands down the front of her dress.

Gwen hovered while Evangeline and Will shook hands and started the usual back and forth of diplomatic goodbyes. All she wanted to do was say goodbye to Evangeline and disappear into whatever palace bedroom the Rialtans had scrambled to find for her. Not even dinner could stave off the exhaustion of a nine hour carriage ride, and the stress of being around so many unfamiliar people was taking its toll.

It wasn’t until after she and Evangeline had spoken to the king and queen– insistent, friendly, and unbearably eager to meet them– that Gwen and Evangeline found a moment together out of earshot near the door.

“Are you driving back to Moorkavia tonight?” Gwen said, slipping into their native tongue so they could speak freely without being understood.

“No, I’ll find an inn or something,” Evangeline said. “I’ll be close in case you need any help.”

“Not sure how much help you’re going to be if I’m stabbed in my sleep tonight,” she said a bit snidely.

Evangeline flinched, and Gwen immediately regretted her words.

“Do you have your dagger?” Evangeline snapped, embarrassed Gwen had noticed.

“Yes.” Gwen glanced at the guard at the door as her fingertips near her side twitched. She imagined the silver dagger strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath the layers of her dress.

“Then you’ll be fine,” Evangeline said. “Keep it with you at all times, though try not to be so obvious about it. The prince seems nice enough and you can fool the Niran princess for a while, but stay away from the prince’s guard if you can.”

Gwen gulped. “You really don’t think it’s safe here?” Already her mind was filling with visions of the night ahead, terrifying imaginings mixing with her own brief memories. This was not her home. She didn’t know the ins and outs of the passages, which sounds in the hallway were maids and which were assassins with long knives and shadowy uniforms. Sleeping in a palace crawling with guards, she was a sitting duck. 

“It’s not safe anywhere,” Evangeline replied. “‘Don’t trust anyone,’ remember? Especially not Rialtans and especially not their guards. Just because they have a crown or wear a uniform doesn’t mean they have your best interests at heart.”

“Then why–”

“It’s safe enough,” Evangeline interrupted, her mouth set in a line. “Nothing’s going to happen, but even if it does, you know how to take care of yourself. Mother made sure of that.”

But no matter how many years Gwen had spent learning self-defense, diplomacy, history, languages– nothing had prepared her for this. “I don’t even know him,” Gwen said, desperation leaking into her voice. “How am I supposed to convince him to marry me? How am I supposed to convince myself?”

“Because you have to,” Evangeline said, her blue eyes intense. “Our kingdom is dying, Gwen. This is the only chance we have of saving it.”

“Your Highness,” a guard said, approaching. “The carriage is ready.”

“Goodbye Evangeline,” Gwen said. Evangeline turned to go but Gwen grabbed her wrist, pulling her in for a brief hug. It was stiff and awkward, but Evangeline must have sensed Gwen’s worry because she didn’t pull away.

“Goodbye Gwen,” she said. “We’re counting on you.”