Glittering russet eyes landed on mine.
“How unusual…” I uttered, unable to look away.
She groaned. “The falconer should keep a better watch on his birds. They’ll be dropping dead mice on your balcony next.”
Its broad wings unfurled as it launched into the sky.
A single feather lay on the balcony. Even as the wind blew, it remained.
“It’s a political trade.” My gaze still fixated on the single feather, until she placed her hand on my arm.
“Aren’t all royal marriages? He may be exactly what you’ve wished for.”
All I longed for was to be accepted, to be loved—to live a life far away from the palace. He would at least take me away from here. “Perhaps.”
“Well, you must ready yourself.” Her eyes narrowed as she assessed me. “You can’t meet him looking like that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“With the look of utter disdain. It doesn’t become a princess.”
I scoffed. Her lack of compassion didn’t become her either.
The midday sun blazed down on the field. Reina provided little comfort, as she seldom did. I had come to expect it—maybe even tolerate it—but after the news I needed more.
The thin branches of the willow tree freely danced on the wind.
My mother and I would lie under the willow, gazing at the stars. She told stories of a world beyond ours—of the fae kingdom, Nythrel, and its three territories. I knew about the mystical forests of Lythira, the bustling marketplaces of Kybar, and the crystal sea that surrounded most of Eyrsea. Each detail I forced myself to remember until I could picture each place in my mind.
After she died, I scoured our library for the tales, wanting to relive them, but none remained. All tales of the fae and their magic were burned after the war. Speaking of them was forbidden. I hadn’t known it was when my mother whispered theirstories in secret, but once I learned it, I never repeated it to another. Not even my younger sister, Ashlyn.
My fingers grasped a winding willow branch as the wind blew.
“Your Highness.” Sir Cael held out the bow to me. I rolled my quivering fingers firmly around it. “Aelira…” Hearing him utter my name, without my title, broke my trance. “I hear preparations are underway for a special visitor to arrive.”
I gripped the bow harder, digging my fingernails into it. “Has he announced it? He hadn’t even told me.”
“But you knew?” He squinted as the sun’s rays shifted. I nodded. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.” His voice lowered, meant for only me—a rare moment between friends bound by expectation and duty. “And how are you feeling about this news you do not yet know?” He pivoted toward me.
“If you had to guess?” The strings caught on my fingers as I launched the arrow. It plummeted straight into the soil.
He glanced around us, watching for those who would oppose him moving any closer. “I’m going to guess by that aim you are not happy with it.”
“You always make excellent observations.” Sarcasm laced my words as I dragged my teeth over my lip. Cael’s fingers brushed mine as he placed another arrow in my palm. The shaft rolled down my hand before I caught hold of it again.
“You usually find my observations useful,” he reminded me.
“Well, maybe you should keep your observations on the state of the kingdom and less on my terrible aim,” I scoffed.
“This Lord of the Vale…” He lowered his voice. “I hope he comes prepared.”
A sharp inhale caught in my chest, recalling everything I overheard. “Prepared for what?” My hands inched along the bow, gripping it harder.
“To handle you…” His voice was a whisper on the wind.
What had I done that made everyone think I needed to be handled?
“What dangerous words for a knight,” I said.
