One
"Fix your face, Aelia."
I pulled my attention to the side to see my cousin's handsome face giving me a meaningful look.
I sat up a little straighter in the saddle, schooling my expression back into indifference. It would not be appropriate to have the Princess of Windemere looking sullen and difficult as she greeted yet another noble marching across the plains in pursuit of her hand.
"I hate this, Arkadian," I told him, reaching up to scratch beneath my crown. It was itchy, with real stalks of godsgrass woven in among the golden ones that ringed my white hair.
"Which part? The fact that you’re being forced to choose one of these men, or the fact that you don't know whether that Castering lord from yesterday is here for you or the trade summit?"
He laughed at my dark look.
"He is not here for trade," I said, clenching my jaw. "Markus brought me his offer this morning."
"Well, he's the one to beat so far," Arkadian said, angling his head to catch my reaction.
"Hardly. The terms were atrocious. I would need to agree to allow him to set me aside if I didn't provide him with two strong sons in five years."
Arkadian's brows shot up in surprise, but I wasn't sure what else he might have expected from Castering, where they prized manly brutality above all.
"That is not even the worst of it," I added. "If he set me aside, he would retain the crown of Windemere for himself."
"Dear gods! Was he really so stupid as to bring that offer to the council?"
I rolled my eyes. "Apparently."
It really was too bad. The Castering lord was the best-looking of all the nobles who’d passed through the gates so far. He was tall and solidly built, with soft brown eyes and an exceptionally strong jaw line. It had been abitter disappointment to find that he would not even lower himself to meet my gaze.
I squinted my eyes against the sun angling over the hills ahead. The retinue of riders coming up the Godsway was growing nearer. I was beginning to be able to make out their general shape and number.
Ancient custom dictated that we ride out into the godsgrass to meet noble guests as they arrived to the city. It generally wasn't done as often in those days, but the King's Day celebration was a special occasion. Most of these men were coming to make a play for my hand and the throne it would soon sit upon.
My mare danced a few steps under me with barely restrained excitement. She was a spirited horse and longed to gallop any time she got the slightest suggestion to do so. The quick-moving horses heading our way were just such a suggestion, and she was dying to ride out and meet them.
I tightened my hold on the reins, patting her neck soothingly as she huffed and fidgeted.
The regent gave me an angry glare from his position in front of me.
I glared back, showing him my hands on the reins.I am trying to manage her, you bastard prick.
Markus Smeck, my uncle and the ever-present thorn in my side, ruled for me as Regent of Windemere. Though I had reached my majority three years earlier, I remained unmarried and ineligible for the crown.
"To answer your question," I said, darting my eyes back to my cousin. "I hatethis." I waved to acknowledge the group heading down the road, growing ever larger as they crossed the rolling hills.
I spoke low enough so that only Arkadian could hear. "I hate that I am on the cusp of power, and I am forced to share it with someone else simply because they have a cock and I do not."
"Trust me, Aelia. I understand. It’s more than unfair. But these are the laws of the land, and until someone changes them—" he gave me a meaningful look, "—they will do things the way they have always done things. Make a good match, and you can finally begin to fix that."
"How can I make a good match when I am forced to choose betweenthesehorrible men?" I gestured again to the group of darkly dressed riders, now nearly upon us.
Minototians; vile, disgusting creatures.
The riders trotted in front of us, fanning out with their horses to make an arrow shape. The point of the arrow was a tall, thickly muscled man in dark gray robes with his cowl pulled up over his shaved head.
The Windemere herald rode out on his bay mare and shouted, "The Regent of Windemere, Lord Markus Divestra Smeck, Protector of theGodsgrass Kingdom, and Guardian of the Realms of Men, welcomes the Lords of Minototia to Windemere."
I waited, staring straight at the tall man in the middle of the line. Of course, he would not meet my eyes.
