“I’d rather hear about your goats.” My sigh escaped as I cradled a rose, its velvet petals cool against my palm.
We wandered through the garden, its perfume weaving through the air, while the noblewomen lingered over tea. The walk had been Fyrn’s idea, her attempt to pacify court murmurs about my nonconformity to Tallon’s hand-picked attire.
“My goats?” She wrinkled her nose. “Surely you don’t mean the Kuh’lir?”
“Tallon plans to take me to your father’s manor in a week. He breeds them, doesn’t he? It seems proper to learn more about them.” I brushed my thumb along the crimson petal and let the rose fall from my grasp.
Goats were safer ground. Anything was safer than Tallon.
“Nienna, are you well?”
Her question snapped my gaze to hers, sharp and searching, as though my secrets might spill across my face.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been distant all day.” Her hand clasped mine, firm but gentle, and her brows knit with concern. “If something else weighs on you, or if you’d prefer to rest–”
“No.”
Rest meant returning to my rooms, a gilded cage masquerading as a sanctuary. The entire palace suffocated me. Every hallway echoed with the fear of meeting the king or Tallon.
“What is it?” She lowered her voice, leading me past the colorful tea tables, away from the women exchanging pleasantries. Beneath a low-hanging tree, its leaves gilded with the first touch of autumn, she stopped.
“I see it in your eyes,” she pressed, her mask slipping to reveal unguarded worry. “Something troubles you. It’s about Tallon, isn’t it?”
Him and hisfather.
“Let me help you,” she added.
No one could fix this. My prison stretched far beyond stone walls and duty-bound corridors.
My resistance crumbled. I sank onto the bench beneath the tree’s shade and dropped my head into my hands. “I’m a princess—I’ll never marry for love.”
Her shoulders softened, and she sat beside me, eyes distant. “No one expects high ladies to,” she murmured, her words weighted by something more personal.
The wistfulness in her tone made me glance up. She wasn’t looking at me but at some unseen thing, beyond the flowers swaying in the breeze.
Her lips twisted into a fragile smile that never touched her eyes. “It’s not in the cards for me, either,” she added.
“You’ve accepted no betrothal,” I said, forming my words with care.
“Not yet. But the one I love—he won’t have me.” Her voice wavered, and unshed tears glimmered in her gaze. “I’m bound for a loveless union, to bear heirs and nothing more, while my heart belongs to another.” She scoffed. “And they say men have it hard.”
Her bitterness mirrored my own.
“I’d hoped I might grow to care for my match,” I admitted, the crack in my tone betraying my composure. My focus fell to my slippers, the grass brushing their edges. “At least enough to be his friend. To prove my worth.”
“He’ll never see mine.” Fyrn’s jaw clenched, her words sharp and brittle. “I’ll play the part, smile when required, but his heart will never belong to me.”
“You can’t imagine how much I understand that.” A grimace pulled at my lips. “I know you’re close to Tallon–”
“Acquaintances. Nothing more.” Her dry chuckle carried a hint of pain, as if she didn’t want to be attached to the man I loathed.
“When I’m forced to marry him, the stress alone might render me barren and send one of us to an early grave.”
Her brows knitted, her worry deepening. “Then leave. Break the betrothal.”
“No.” The weight of duty settled on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating. “For the sake of both kingdoms, I’ll endure. But could it even be called a marriage?”
