“To you, the Lost Princess, and your safe return home,” Urien said, then lifted his mug for a drink. His eyes studied me over the rim.
He might have boyish charms, but this was the type of man others took for granted, easily underestimated. I knew his kind well from picking pockets in the noblemen district.
“I’m not returning.”
“Staying lost, then?” he asked, setting his mug aside.
“I simply don’t need finding.” Gods, how I wished my friends would wrap up their games.
“More than a few people might argue that.”
My eyes rolled. “Sainte being one of them?”
“Aye,” he chuckled, “he would be the first to say it, and I don’t suppose he would be the last. Many would welcome your return.”
“Would you?” I asked, watching him carefully.
He leaned back and threw an arm over the chair beside him. “Do you think I would be here if I didn’t want you in Wynterborne?”
“I don’t know anything about you. You could be loyal to King Adrastus, sent to–”
“Prince Regent Adrastus. Please do not exaggerate his title.” His nose lifted in the slightest distaste for my brother’s name.
I shifted in my seat. “Not king? Was he not crowned after my father passed?”
Urien cocked his head, casting me a sidelong glance. His features narrowed with suspicion. “No. He is named regent. Did you not know?”
“I left when I was six,” I spat, arms crossed tight.
“He cannot ascend the throne as king—perhaps in name only for now. The official claim to that title hinges on those Borne of Wynter relinquishing their rights. And the whereabouts of a particular princess remain unknown, her body never recovered.”
My lips pressed into a tight frown. “Not that I’m interested, but what exactly is expected of me?”
“Challenges, sweets. You cannot slip in and take the crown from Adastrus, but you can confront him. He would falter in the face of the gods’ trials, and that’s what we’re counting on.”
“So you expect me to undergo some challenge,survive, then rule a kingdom I know nothing about?”
“You think you know nothing? It’s in your blood,” he said. “We were in the dark. We had no hope—until two months ago. Sainte claimed he knew the whereabouts of the Lost Princess, the one capable of challenging Adastrus. Few believed him, and even fewer followed his lead.”
“Why now? If my safety was a concern before, why the sudden change?”
“You’re nearing your twenty-first birthday,” he said, shaking his head at my ignorance. “Adastrus cannot rise to the throne until all siblings come of age and forfeit their rights. If your survival is known, you can challenge him.”
“Then tell them I’m alive and leave it at that. Let him be regent. Surely he grasps the intricacies of ruling better than I do.”
The room stilled, and I bit my cheek to refrain from glancing at my friends for support.
“Choose your words carefully.” Urien’s voice lost all semblance of friendliness. “Prince Adastrus has no allies here, and you would be wise to remember that.”
“Sorry,” I huffed, staring at the tabletop.
“You’re our last hope, sweets. We only ask that you ride to challenge him. The gods will sort him out, but without your intervention, he will assume the throne on your birthday.”
“I don’t think you understand,” I murmured. “I was never meant to rule. I have no allegiance to Wynterborne. Most of my life was lived away from it. Do I strike you as leadership material?” I scoffed, throwing my arms out.
Covered in fish guts, blood, sweat, and grime, emitting an odor that rivaled a pigsty, I managed a rueful grin. My shirt hung in tatters, fluttering with each movement. My trousers barely reached mid-calf. One boot was held together with twine after the laces snapped.
His gaze tracked my body, as if taking in every flaw. “Appearances are not everything,” he said. “It’s what is inside that makes the difference.”
