Cheesy

Your heart felt like a lump in your throat as you dashed across the frozen grass and through the courtyard. In the distance, the horn echoed off the stone walls again. Erin lagged behind you slightly, her footsteps uneven as she tried to keep up in her restrictive maid uniform. As you ran toward the great gates, palace staff stopped to stare. Maids carrying laundry baskets stopped mid-step. Gardeners and guards on their morning patrol turned to look on with curiosity as their princess sprinted across the palace grounds, dragging her maid by the hand.  

Your shoe slipped on a patch of frosted pavement, and you took a moment to steady yourself, arms windmilling as you fought for balance. Then you gathered your skirts again and carried on. In the distance, you could see guards pulling the great gates open with a slow, grinding groan of iron and wood. Men on horseback began to file into the courtyard. You halted abruptly a short distance away, Erin nearly colliding with you from behind. Still clutching her hand tightly, you watched the men before you, your eyes darting desperately across the scene.

Some wore Sun Guard uniforms, others wore the distinctive northern black leather. A few knights hopped off their horses, leading them aside to make room for carts coming through the gates. A cart full of supplies rumbled past. Another followed, carrying men in the back — tied, beaten, their heads bowed.

Your heart hammered so hard you could feel it in your ears. You took a few hesitant steps forward, desperately searching for anyone you recognised. Palace guards mingled with the arrivals, helping them unload their prisoners, pulling them unceremoniously off the cart. 

Then you heard a loud, boisterous laugh. 

Sebastian walked out of the crowd, leading his horse aside by the reins as a knight spoke to him. He hadn’t seen you yet from where you stood. You thought he looked a little scruffy, but seemed unharmed. Instead of relief, fear shot through you.

Sylus isn’t there.

The thought made your mouth go dry, and your hair stand on edge. You stood frozen, gripping Erin’s hand, watching the scene before you. Your eyes began to water, and you couldn’t tell if it was from cold air or dread.

Where is he?

A flash of silver caught your eye, and you took an uncertain step forward. A Sun Guard with messy, silver hair emerged from the crowd, his back to you. He moved with a familiar, heavy step, dragging a well-dressed man by the arm and shoving him roughly towards the guards. The noble-looking man stumbled, his hands tied behind his back, and a guard steadied him.

Then the Sun Guard turned, and you saw his face. Your heart lurched in your chest.

“Sylus.” You gasped before you could stop yourself. 

You almost didn’t recognise him. He moved with the same steady confidence you knew so well, yet something about him seemed different. Mud clung to the hem of his cloak, while his face looked thinner. And tired. The bruising from Sebastian’s beating had been long gone, replaced by fresh, new bruises and a cut across his brow.

His gaze landed on you. You felt frozen in place, caught in the intensity of his stare. Then his face softened. As the hard lines, the wariness and the exhaustion melted away from his gaze, he looked exactly as you remembered him. A small smile spread on his face, and he took one step towards you. Then he stopped, his hands visibly twitching at his sides as if he was physically holding himself back. 

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. You let go of Erin’s hand and sprinted across the cobbled courtyard, your feet pounding against the cold stone. Without thinking, you leapt at Sylus. 

He caught you easily, lifting you into the air. You collided with his armoured chest, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. Your arms locked around his neck, clinging to him with desperate, trembling strength, afraid that if you let go he would slip away. Sylus held you just as tightly, his arms crushing you against him. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in. He smelled of cold outdoor air, leather, horses and woodsmoke. You nuzzled deeper into his hair, not caring about the mud on his cloak or the grime on his armour. From the corner of your eye, you saw Erin dash past you, disappearing into the crowd of knights.

Reluctantly, Sylus let you down, your feet touching the cobblestones. You took his face in your trembling hands, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. His cheekbones felt even sharper than usual. 

“You’re really here.” Your voice came out breathless, almost disbelieving. 

Sylus leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. His gloved hands rested on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles over your velvet dress. He closed his eyes, and a long, slow breath escaped him - as if all the tension he’d been carrying for weeks finally left his body. 

“I made a promise, didn’t I?” His voice was quiet, rough with emotion.

Without caring about your surrounding audience, you tilted your face up and pressed your lips to his. The feel of his lips on yours, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers made your eyes prickle with tears. Sylus gently bumped your nose, and you shivered in the cold winter air. 

You pulled back slightly, gazing up at him. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

“You smell like a barn animal.” You muttered, your voice cracking. 

Sylus let out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He placed his hand over yours, lifting it to kiss the inside of your palm. Around you, voices mingled with the clatter of armour and restless stamping of horses. Somewhere behind you, the great palace gates swung shut with a deep, echoing creak. Your surroundings disappeared into nothing more than a blur, leaving only Sylus standing before you.

Then a voice cut through the air.

“His Majesty calls for Prince Sebastian and Prince Sylus!” A guard announced abruptly, pulling you back to reality. You stepped away from Sylus, watching as he and your brother both sprang into action, pulling satchels off their horses. Still overcome with emotion, you didn’t understand what they were doing, but you hoped your father would allow you to go with them. 

When Sebastian walked up to you, you took a breath to speak. 

“Welcom— Ow!” Your hand shot up to your forehead where Sebastian had flicked you. 

“Don’t forget about your brother next time.” He laughed as you followed both men, scowling up at him.

When you arrived at your parents' throne room, they were already seated on their twin thrones. Beside them stood Lord Aster, visibly anxious, with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. On their other side, Prince Kaylen and Caine were discussing something in hushed tones, but they grew quiet when Sylus and Sebastian entered the room. You followed close behind them, watching your parents straighten in their seats, as if they were bracing themselves for whatever news was about to come.

Sylus approached your parents first, pulling a small wooden box from his satchel. He went down on one knee before them and, keeping his gaze low, he presented the box to them with both hands.

He’s so ceremonial, you thought, your breath catching. 

“Your Majesties.” His voice was loud and clear, echoing through the hall. “It is done.”

Your father leaned forward in his seat, taking the box out of Sylus’s hands. For a short moment, his eyes drifted to your mother, then back down at the box. He opened it, and his face immediately contorted. He quickly snapped it shut. 

“I said his seal would be enough.” The king said with a grimace, handing the box to Lord Aster. The advisor took it reluctantly.

“He did not part with it peacefully, Your Majesty,” Sylus answered, gaze still low. 

“Rise, Prince Sylus.” Your mother flicked her hand up. “You did what you had to do.” She offered Sylus a small, tired smile as he stood up. “Now, tell us what happened.”

“Mother.” Sebastian approached, standing beside Sylus, and handed your mother a stack of papers. “King Edward made outrageous demands. He accused us of spying on him!” He crossed his arms, voice indignant, as your mother eyed a letter with King Edward’s royal seal. “And he imprisoned me. Sylus was forced to rescue me.” 

Both of your parents looked to Sylus. 

“Things got… out of hand,” Sylus said after a short hesitation. “Harming royal guests is an unforgivable crime. We were within our right to use force.” You caught the slight twitch in his lips as he said that, Sebastian nodding solemnly beside him. “Unfortunately, the king himself got involved and did not survive the struggle.”

Listening to princes’ rehearsed explanation, something in the back of your mind told you that the events hadn’t been so simple.

Your parents seemed to stiffen. “Have you caused another incident?” Your father asked, rubbing his temple.

“Please, read the first letter.” Sebastian urged. “It will ease your worry.” 

Your mother pulled a document out of the stack, breaking the seal. 

“I, King Adrien of the Kingdom of Valmont—” The queen read aloud, “—accept full responsibility for the foolish actions of my late father, King Edward.”

Your mother paused, skimming the rest of the letter with a raised eyebrow. 

“As restitution for the damages caused, please accept the following sum…” She trailed off, lowering the letter. 

“Adrien. That boy should be no more than thirteen.” Your father's voice was full of suspicion. “Did you two dictate this letter to him?” 

The two princes shared a quick look. 

“He was very reasonable, Your Majesty,” Sylus answered smoothly. “Once his advisors became aware of the extent of his father’s actions, and…” He paused, a tiny, smug smile spreading on his lips. “That you now have Onychinus’s protection, they were very eager to find a peaceful solution. Provided that we forget about their attempt to extort Prince Sebastian.”

You imagined the boy king writing his first decree as ruler, likely hours or days after his father had met his demise. And Sylus and Sebastian looming over him, telling him what to write. The image made you shiver, despite the warmth of the castle.

“Yes, this is a reasonable outcome.” Your father hummed, watching your mother shuffle through the envelopes. “What else have you brought?”

“A written confession from Lord Hawthorne,” Sebastian pointed to a letter. “Admitting to conspiracy with a foreign power for personal gain. Along with correspondence proving it.”

“And what came of him?” The queen asked.

“He’s in the dungeons, Your Majesty.” Sylus declared. “Awaiting your judgment.” 

Your mother handed the stack of papers to Caine, who took them without a word. 

The room was quiet for a short moment, but it felt like hours to you. Your father sighed.

“You’ve kept your promise, young man.” The king leaned forward in his seat. You clenched your hands together, anticipating his next words. “And we will honour ours. We can discuss the details later. Lord Aster–” Your father turned to his advisor. “ –arrange a feast for tonight. All men who accompanied them are to attend. We will announce their rewards then.”

You let out a long, heavy breath of relief. Lord Aster bowed and quickly made his way out of the room, likely eager to offload the grim box to somebody else. The two older princes quickly approached the exhausted Sylus and Sebastian, patting them firmly on the shoulders and offering words of praise and congratulations. Prince Kaylen, in particular, looked especially pleased that this chapter of his life was over.

The feast arrived faster than you had expected. 

Ever since you’d laid eyes on Sylus, you’d craved to follow him around like a puppy on its mother’s tail. But to your great disappointment, you weren’t allowed. After a kiss on your hand and an apology with a promise to make it up to you later, Sylus was whisked away to be examined by the physician, to bathe, and to be dressed and made up in clothes befitting a prince. When he finally made his entrance at the feast, along with Sebastian, everyone cheered for them, like the returning heroes they were.

Once he sat down beside you at the king’s table, overlooking the banquet hall, your heart felt like it would burst out of your chest. All of your hopes and dreams, to finally sit with him at your family’s table, to have him accepted, had finally come true. No more tests and trials, no demands or conditions. No more fear and danger standing between you.

Once everyone had arrived, your father stood from his seat and the hall fell silent. Sneakily, Sylus reached under the table and took your hand in his.

“First, I would like to thank each and every one of you for supporting my son, Sebastian, and Prince Sylus on their dangerous mission…” Your father began to speak in that typical tone of voice he adopted whenever he was about to give a long speech.

But all you could focus on was the feel of Sylus’s bare, calloused hand on yours, and the familiar, confident smile on his face. You turned your palm and linked your fingers with his as your father addressed your guests. For a moment, you wished everyone in the room would disappear, so that you could be left alone with Sylus. You had so much to say to him, to ask him. So much you wanted to do with him now that he was back.

“...but we must not forget that fights are not won with swords only.” The king continued, his voice dripping with ceremony. “This new chapter of stability would not have been possible without the efforts of my dear daughter, Princess–” He announced your name, extending his hand toward you. 

Your eyes went wide, and you took a sharp breath, nearly choking on your own saliva. The sudden attention, and every pair of eyes in the room suddenly fixed on you, made the blood drain from your face. Someone in the far back of the room let out a hoot and began to clap. Then the rest of the room followed suit. Sylus gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you smiled stiffly.

“He’s exaggerating.” You muttered, shooting Sylus a nervous glance. 

He returned it with a warm, proud smile. “Not at all, sweetie.” He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “I owe you everything.”

Still unconvinced, and slightly mortified by the attention, you wanted to argue that he was also exaggerating. But you decided against it.

“As for the matter of rewards...” The king continued once the room had quieted. “In addition to gold, your queen and I will consider any petitions you may have.” Your father beamed at his guests. “Within reason.” He added, drawing a few laughs from around the tables. The king then turned to where the musicians stood, waiting for his speech to end. “Now start the music! We’re not at a funeral!” He ordered, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

As the hall erupted in cheers again, and the court musicians scrambled to begin playing, you took a look around the room. Seeing the princes of Onychinus at your family’s table set off butterflies in your stomach all over again. Some of the knights at the tables seemed embarrassed and nervous to be hosted by their ing, but as the night went on and the drinks kept coming, they visibly, and very audibly, relaxed. 

One group of knights had erupted into some soldiers’ song, and you watched them with fascination. At a nearby table, your eyes found Sir Caleb. The red-haired twins of Onychinus sat on each side of him, deep in an animated conversation. Mid-sentence, Sir Caleb suddenly looked up, his attention drifting away from his company. You followed his gaze to find Erin, weaving between the tables, carrying a jug of ale, stopping to refill a few cups. The moment she reached their table, one of the twins shouted, “It’s the ale angel!” and Sir Caleb immediately sat up a little straighter. She offered him a smile as she refilled his cup, and his face brightened in return. The moment Erin turned her back on them, one twin slung an arm over Caleb’s shoulder, while the other leaned in from the opposite side, talking over one another even more enthusiastically than before. You smiled into your glass, wondering whether Sir Caleb realised that he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he believed. 

Then a voice with a very thick Onychinus accent grabbed your attention. 

“...the prince slammed his foot on his hand!” The man’s voice carried through the music. He was tall, in a dark leather outfit, standing at his table, waving a large tankard of ale in his hand. “And he said, get me that axe.” The man gestured dramatically, deepening his voice, trying to copy Sylus’s tone. “And then he–” 

Two large hands shot up and covered your ears, gently turning you to face Sylus. 

“Pay attention to me, sweetie.” He said, a soft smile on his face and a slight flush on his cheeks. “We’ve only just reunited, and you’re looking at others.”

With a small pout, you pulled his hands off your ears and held them in your lap. “But I want to hear the stories about you.”

“I will tell you everything myself.” He leaned in closer. “So look at me.”

You huffed a laugh, unconvinced that he would tell you the whole truth. Reaching up to his face, you touched the healed cut on his brow, then traced a bruise down the side of his face. “What have you gone through?” 

Sylus grinned at your question. “Maybe my future brother-in-law got his hands on me again.”

“He did not!” Your jaw dropped, and you whipped around to look for Sebastian. Sylus laughed, shaking his head. You had missed that laugh of his. He took a breath to speak. “He didn’t–”

“Of course we will start the wedding preparations right away!” A few seats away, your father’s merry voice drew yours and Sylus’s attention. Prince Kaylen had disappeared from his seat next to Sylus and was now beside your father. His long hair was tied up in a high ponytail for the evening, and he seemed much more relaxed, compared to how guarded he’d been when you first met him.

“May I confess something, Your Majesty?” He asked as he refilled your father’s wine glass, then slid it closer. You narrowed your eyes, wondering if he had been waiting for your father to start drinking before approaching him. “Once Sylus departed with Prince Sebastian, I sent word of the engagement to Father. He’s already begun making preparations in Onychinus.”

“Hmm, yes. He would do that.” Your father stroked his chin. “We would have liked to hold it here, though.”

You straightened your posture and shot Sylus a nervous look, hoping this wouldn’t start another disagreement.

“We would be honoured to host your family at the Onyx Keep.” The prince placed his hand over his heart, his voice smooth as velvet. “We would like to show you the same hospitality you’ve shown us.”

Your father pursed his lips in thought, then turned to you. “Did you hear that, love?” He called out, making you jump in your seat. “It’s your choice. Is this what you want?”

Prince Kaylen smiled at you from behind your father, but the piercing look in his eyes was clear. We are going, they said. You did not mind. Feeling jittery at the thought of finally seeing Onychinus, you nodded vigorously. “Yes, Father!” 

The king sighed and picked up his glass. “So be it.” He held it up to Prince Kaylen, who tapped his own against it in a toast, sealing the agreement.

You sat at your dressing table, wearing a silk sleeping gown and brushed your hair absent-mindedly. Your evening dress was draped over a chair, your red hair ribbon carefully laid out on your dressing table. You’d worn it so often while Sylus was gone that you’d worried that it might start fraying. 

Knights, nobles and other allies who your father had invited to their feast were still in the banquet hall, emptying your father’s reserves. But exhaustion had caught up with you, and you’d excused yourself. You had hoped to slip away with Sylus, but everyone in attendance seemed to want a piece of him and Sebastian. It felt childish to be disappointed that you hadn’t had more time with him, but at the same time you couldn’t help yourself. Did Celia go through the same emotions today, too, you wondered. Or am I just spoiled?

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered to yourself, brushing through your hair. “We have all the time in the world now.”

Sighing, you stood from your seat, gathered your discarded dress, and sauntered lazily into your closet, looking for a place to store it. After hanging it up, you wandered back out into your room.

As if out of nowhere, a pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you into a hard chest.  You jumped, squeaking in shock, reaching up to start thrashing against their grip.

“Shh, it’s only me.” A voice whispered, the arms tightening around you. You stilled, then turned to find Sylus, gazing down at you. A small pink flush across his cheeks was visible even in the dim lighting.

“Sylus.” You sighed, melting into his arms. “You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry, my love.” Sylus held you close, resting his chin on top of your head. “I couldn’t bear to spend another night without you in my arms.”

Hearing that he’d been feeling the same way as you made your heart skip a beat. 

“Come.” You whispered, disentangling yourself from his arms. You took Sylus by the hand, pulling him towards your bed. Sylus climbed in after you, slumping on top of you with a heavy sigh. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling deeply. “I’ve missed you terribly,” he murmured into your ear. “Every day. And every night.”

You wiggled under him and wrapped your arm around his waist, holding him close. “I missed you, too… And they kept you away from me all day," you whined.

“Mmhm…” He sighed into your hair. “I may have been on the verge of murdering someone.” 

“No more murder.” You giggled at his breath tickling your skin. “You’re all mine now.”

“Always been yours.” He sounded exhausted, but his voice was still soft, reverent. “And we won’t be apart again.” 

“Were you ever afraid?” Your voice came out small. “I was afraid for you.”

Sylus didn’t answer straight away. He stilled, considering his answer. “I was only afraid that I wouldn’t be allowed to see you again on my return.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” You teased, drawing lazy circles where your hand rested on his back.

He lifted his face and gazed down at you, a tired smile on his face. You noticed, then, the dark circles that had formed around his eyes. You reached up to stroke his cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into your touch.

He lowered his face and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if it was a first kiss all over again. Then he pressed his lips to your again, firmer this time, lingering longer. He kissed you over and over, sighing into your lips, savouring the feel of them. Wrapping your leg around his waist, you pulled him impossibly closer. You wanted to erase every last inch of distance that had separated you for weeks. His hand gripped your hip, and he bit your lower lip gently, pulling it with his teeth. He trailed kisses down your jawline, sucking on the skin behind your ear. You clung to his body, your breath quickening. 

“I’ve thought about this every night…” Sylus drawled, dragging his lips over your neck, his hot breath making goosebumps raise on your skin. “...missed you…” His voice came out a little slurred.

His movements slowed. He lingered lower, at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. His grip on your hip loosened, his breath on your neck becoming slow and even.

“...Sylus?” You whispered, a little breathless, still clinging to him. 

Sylus didn’t respond, only relaxed further onto you. You breathed a quiet laugh and shifted under him, bringing your hand to his hair. Brushing your fingers gently through his soft silver strands, you watched him sleep, still half-slumped on top of you.

You sat on a lounge chair, book in hand. Reading seemed like a good way to distract yourself from thinking about Sylus. You had read the same paragraph five times already, until the words began to blur on the page. And yet not a single sentence had settled in your mind. As the days dragged on, you found your thoughts spiralling into worse and worse scenarios – catastrophising at every turn until you'd exhausted all of the worst possibilities. Conscious of how you could no longer hide your worry, you had begun to avoid company. The palace felt different too. The way the maids looked at you bothered you. Those quick, darting glances, the way they lowered their voices when you passed. The whispers and giggles were long gone, replaced by looks of pity. As if someone has died, you thought with annoyance, snapping your book shut. He’s not dead. He’s just… away.

Your brother had come to visit you shortly after you’d received Sylus’s final letter. Sebastian had written to Caine as well, explaining the events of the past days in greater detail than Sylus had.  

“You’ve been such a busy bee.” Your brother had pulled you into a warm embrace. “Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”

“I just didn’t want to bother you.” You’d answered with a small smile, melting into the comfort of his hug. The real answer was different, though. Because I stubbornly wanted to prove I could do it myself. But you didn’t want to admit that aloud to Caine. More doting and pity weren’t what you needed. 

Since that day, you had spent less and less time in the study. The sight of it only reminded you of Sylus’s absence, and the fact that there was nothing more you could do for him. It left you feeling helpless.

One morning, an invitation arrived from Madeleine. 

…it is of the utmost importance that you attend!!! And wear a dress that you won’t mind ruining.

You decided it wouldn't hurt to see what she was up to. So with Erin’s help, you found an old dress in the back of your closet – one you didn’t particularly like –  and donned it. As usual, you tied Sylus’s red ribbon in your hair and left for your carriage, your guards trailing behind you.

When you arrived at her home, a maid led you to a half-empty, well-lit conservatory. As you walked through the doors, Madeleine’s bright laughter greeted you, along with the sight of Master Rafayel wiping a stripe of blue paint from his cheek. 

“Good morning, Maddie.” You called out, drawing their attention. “And Mister -er, Master Rafayel.” You corrected yourself, remembering that’s how Caine had referred to the artist.

“It’s lovely to meet you again, Your Highness,” the artist bowed, slow and graceful. “Please, just Rafayel is fine.”

“Come, come!” Maddie hurried over to you, hugging your arm and leading you towards a wooden tripod easel. A blank canvas rested against it. 

“Is this what you needed me for?” You asked with a small laugh.

“That's right!” Maddie beamed at you. “You’ve been nose-deep in books for too long now. It’s time for a lesson in fine art,” she said, gesturing at the scene before you.

“Ooh, exciting.” Trying to push the negative thoughts away, you did your best to match her energy. Pulling a high stool over, you settled behind your easel. Maddie sat on her own beside you as Rafayel pulled over a side table between you, arranging various supplies – charcoal sticks, chalk, brushes in every shape and size, and some small ceramic dishes of vivid paints already mixed and prepared. 

You sat on your stool, hands on your knees, waiting patiently for the artist to finish his preparations, as Maddie’s eyes followed him with excitement. 

“Your Highness,” he turned to you eventually. “Is there anything you’d like to paint?” His voice was gentle, his Lemurian accent coming through elegant and melodic.

The question gave you pause. You thought about flowers, or a landscape. Or a portrait? Surely you couldn’t manage a portrait in your first attempt. Then an idea came to you – you wanted to paint an animal.

“I’d like to paint a raven, please,” you said, feeling a little bashful at your choice. Picking up a piece of chalk, Rafayel nodded, then came around to your easel.

“I will show you how to sketch it out first.” He made the first marks on your canvas with confident strokes. As you watched the rough outline of a bird take form, Maddie leaned in.

“Why a raven?” She asked. “Won’t you be bored painting only with black?”

“Well.” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, heat creeping up your cheeks. “Prince Kaylen mentioned that Sylus has a pet raven.” 

“Then let us make this painting your fiancé’s welcome gift.” Rafayel glanced back at you, red chalk still in his hand. 

“I think he’d like that,” you mumbled with a small smile as you played with your hands. “Kaylen said the raven has been restless and attacking everyone at court ever since Sylus left. Even the king himself!” You attempted to steer the subject, hoping Maddie wouldn’t tease you for your choice.

“I can’t imagine that!” Maddie laughed as you both watched Rafayel work on your canvas. “A fearsome king like him, allowing a bird to peck at him sounds preposterous!”

“That bird likely sees the royal family as his flock,” the artist explained. “Ravens become extremely attached to their families.”

“Aww, poor thing…” Maddie cooed as she picked up a charcoal stick. “He must be so upset that his prince is gone.”

Her words sent a small pang through your chest. You were the same as that raven, waiting for your prince, not knowing when he’d return.

“And do you have any animal friends, Master Rafayel?” You asked the artist as he dipped a brush in paint and handed it to you. 

“A flock of seagulls like to visit my home,” he said, picking at his art supplies. “They can also be very demanding birds.”

You smiled at the image of seagulls circling his house, tapping on his windows and trying to steal his food. You began painting your raven with a shaky hand, trying your best to stay within the sketch that Rafayel had prepared for you. Your brush strokes were uneven and hesitant, but you kept going. The black paint was thick and rich, smelling faintly of linseed oil, and you focused on the simple task of filling in the spaces.

“Remember what I told you last time,” you heard the artist murmur to Maddie, and you sneakily side-eyed the pair beside you. Rafayel hovered beside your cousin, standing much closer than he did with you. She held a piece of charcoal, while Rafayel held her hand, guiding it across the canvas. You averted your gaze back to your own painting, biting your lip to stifle a giggle.

You had noticed that the artist had departed from your castle a while ago. Assuming that he’d returned home with your remaining guests, and consumed with Sylus's journey, you hadn't realised he was still in Solen. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to probe a little.

“Master Rafayel.” You piped up, interrupting their whispers as you glided your brush over your canvas. “I’m surprised that you’ve stayed here this long. This winter must be dreadful compared to the year-round summers of Lemuria.”

The artist straightened beside Madeline and tapped a clean brush against his lip as if considering his answer. “I’ve found inspiration here that I was missing in Lemuria," he answered finally.

“Hmm,” you eyed your cousin, who had suddenly gone uncharacteristically quiet as she worked on her own painting. “So it’s true that artists find their muse in unlikely places.”

“Indeed,” he answered, his voice warm.

You continued working on your artwork, making idle conversation. Rafayel wandered between you and Madeleine, offering pointers and guidance, occasionally taking your brush when you struggled. Whenever you made a mistake, he helped you correct it. You hadn’t known what to expect of a world-renowned artist, but Rafayel was surprisingly patient. Maybe Maddie warned him to be nice, you thought to yourself. At the very least, you were grateful that Rafayel hadn’t mentioned anything of the chaos he witnessed when Sylus first presented himself. Eventually your raven finally began to take shape. The body, the wings, the sharp curve of its beak - it was all coming together. Once all the black paint had been laid out, Rafayel guided you in adding some colour and highlights to the raven. A touch of blue, purple and pink – all leaving an almost iridescent sheen to its feathers. It seemed almost finished. All except his eyes.

“I’d like to paint his eyes red,” you announced. 

Rafayel handed you a thin brush, its tip fine and precise. “Eyes are the windows of the soul. Let's make sure they’re perfect.” 

You leaned in, holding your breath as you added the final touches. Kaylen hadn’t said anything about the raven’s eyes. No matter, you thought. I want them red. Like Sylus’s.

Once your painting class was finished, Madeleine squeezed you in a tight hug. Her arms were warm, and her faint, floral perfume had mixed with the scent of the paint. “You know you’re always welcome here.” She held, still not letting go. “Next time, we’ll invite the rest of the girls.” It warmed your heart seeing how considerate she'd been of you.

“I don’t want to interrupt you two.” You teased, patting her back lazily. She held you tighter, swaying with you for a moment, then pulled away. 

“Nonsense,” she answered firmly. “Once the painting is dry, I will have it delivered to you. So you can gift it to Prince Sylus when he returns.”

“If he does…” You mumbled, looking down at your hands.

“Not if.” Maddie held your cheeks, squishing them together, forcing you to meet her eyes. “But when.” Her voice was decisive, her brows slightly raised as if she wouldn’t allow any argument. 

You smiled behind her hands. “You’re right. When.” 

She released you, satisfied with your answer.

Despite your initial reluctance, you left Maddie’s home in better spirits than when you arrived. You found yourself looking forward to presenting Sylus with the painting of his pet. Even though your raven had a certain… brainless look in his eye, you hoped that Sylus would like it. You wandered the palace, day-dreaming of how to frame it for him, imagining how he’d react to seeing your amateur painting.  

He's going to laugh his breeches off, you thought, smiling to yourself. 

You studied your finished, dried painting, holding Madeleine’s letter in one hand. A butler stood nearby, awaiting your instruction.

Erin stood beside you, arms crossed, inspecting it with you. “He looks very… special.” She tilted her head, her lips twitching. “I mean, the pose is quite nice.”

“Master Rafayel helped with that.” You clarified, a little embarrassed by your painting.  

“Ah, I see.” She cleared her throat. “Please don’t worry, my lady. Prince Sylus will adore it regardless.”

Your lips curved to one side into a half-smile. “I think it deserves a golden frame. What do you think?”

“My lady.” Erin couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her. “I suspect Prince Sylus will ensure that your creation is displayed front and centre for all to see.” 

Resting your hands on your hips, you turned to your butler. “Please find a gold-painted frame to fit it. As extravagant as possible. If you can’t, then call for a craftsman.”

“Yes, my lady,” the butler stepped forward, carefully picking up your canvas and carrying it away with all the reverence it deserved. It may have been only your deranged-looking bird, but it still had Master Rafayel's touch.

You sighed, watching him go in silence.

“It has been a fortnight, you know,” you muttered, a sad smile tugging on your lips. Erin looked at you. “Since Sylus last wrote to me.”

“I’m certain that he’s well, my lady,” Erin reassured you as you linked your arm with hers and stepped out into the palace hallway. You weren't entirely sure where you were leading her – perhaps the greenhouse. It had become your favourite place to walk whenever your thoughts grew too loud.

“It’s a long time to go unheard of,” you said. “He should have gone in, seized that king, and come back. A couple of days should have been enough.”

“You said he would be gathering evidence, my lady.” Erin reminded you gently. “If something happened to any prince abroad, I am sure we would receive word immediately.”

“You’re right, Erin,” you hugged her arm tighter. “You always know what to say.”

You stepped out of the palace and into the gardens, heading towards the large greenhouse.  The cold air outside bit your cheeks, making you shudder. You huddled closer to Erin, your steps quickening. The large greenhouse drew closer, its glass panes catching the pale winter sun, steaming faintly against the cold.

Then a horn blared somewhere beyond the castle walls. 

The sound made you jump, freezing you mid-step. Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart seized, then began to pound against your ribs. 

You locked eyes with Erin. “Is that…” you whispered, afraid to finish your question. 

“Someone's at the main gates.” She breathed, the colour draining from her face. 

That same night, you lay awake in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling, unable to find sleep. Shortly after Sir Caleb had departed, doubt had crept in, settling deep in your mind. An incessant thought gnawed at you that perhaps your discoveries were nothing but nonsense. That as soon as Sylus read your letter, he would be so disappointed with you. Or worse – he would believe you, act on your advice, only to waste his precious time chasing false leads while the real culprits slipped away. 

Maybe Sylus would finally see you for what you really were. A stupid girl, a sheltered princess playing with something she didn’t understand. Caine would be embarrassed too, for letting you mess around with his work. 

You hugged your pillow closer, pressing your face into the fabric. Even if I were terribly wrong, Sylus wouldn’t hate me for it, would he? 

A sudden urge to jump out of your bed and run to your guards seized you. You wanted to send them off to find Sir Caleb and bring him back. You would tell him you’d made a mistake and offer him a whole crate of gold and jewels as an apology. But it had been hours since he left. Depending on how fast he rode, Sir Caleb was likely already in Willowby, knocking on inn doors, searching for Sylus and Sebastian. 

It’s too late now. Trying to shake off the negative thoughts, you forced yourself to think about the day Sylus would return - the image of his face, the warmth of his arms, the sound of his voice. You clung to it like a lifeline until you finally managed to drift off into uneasy sleep.

The next day passed slowly and torturously. 

You leafed through documents without seeing them, your mind consumed by Sir Caleb’s journey. He was surely in Willowby by now. You wondered if he had managed to find Sylus. If Sylus had seen your letter. How he looked as he read it. What he thought of it. 

Knowing it was too early to hear back, you trudged on with your day. 

The day after, there was still no sign of Sir Caleb. Surely he would spend the night at Willowby, you reasoned. Let his horse rest at the very least, then ride back the next morning. You kept your hopes up, telling yourself that you shouldn't expect to hear from him yet. If he rode through the night, maybe he had collapsed in his own bed immediately and slept through the day. It would be irresponsible, you thought, but you’d let it slide. 

Day three was when worry truly set in. His instructions were simple: find Sylus, deliver the letter, and come straight back. What could be delaying him? As the days stretched on, you were plagued by the thought that Sir Caleb never managed to reach Sylus. And if he were attacked and killed on the road, it would be your fault. After all, you knew the roads were dangerous, and you sent a lone man to brave them. 

You tried to reassure yourself with other possibilities. Perhaps he did arrive safely, but he couldn’t find Sylus straight away. Sylus could have been out in the woods chasing bandits, and Caleb had to wait in the inn. But the hope felt thin.

What frightened you the most was that not only had Sir Caleb not returned, but your messenger had brought no letters from Sylus either. Maybe he had grown upset with you when the messenger turned up at Willowby without a reply from you. And refused to write again. He wouldn’t be that petty, you told yourself. And if Sylus were too offended to write, surely Sebastian would. Every day that passed without word, you spoke to your father, to Caine, to Lady Celia – none of them had heard from Sebastian either. It had turned into a daily ritual.

Then a different fear began to take shape. They received your letter, and they acted on it. They went to investigate the Hawthorne estate, and something happened to them. But where had Sir Caleb gone to, then? 

One morning, unable to wait any longer, you sent your guard to look for Sir Caleb at his home. He returned with no sign of him. You hadn’t dared to tell anyone what you’d done, except Erin. And every time you looked at her, you were overcome with guilt. But if she blamed you, she never showed it. She looked at you with the same gentle smile, and offered the same quiet reassurance that Sir Caleb was strong, and knew what he was doing. Still, occasionally you caught her staring out of the window as she arranged flowers or pausing mid-stitch on her embroidery. She hadn’t asked about Caleb, but you recognised the longing look in her eyes. You had also grown fond of watching Sir Caleb wander the palace looking for Erin, following her around like a big, loyal puppy. There was something so pure about the pair, and you wouldn’t forgive yourself if he didn’t return.

You came close to confiding in Caine and Prince Kaylen when you sat with them for tea, but the words died in your throat. You were too afraid of being scolded for acting without seeking advice, or being told what a huge mistake you’d made when it was already too late to turn back. Prince Kaylen had been growing frustrated in Solen, counting the days until he could return home. You had noticed the way he tapped his fingers against the teacup – the same restless energy Sylus had when he was pretending to be patient. You wondered whether he missed his wife. If he worried about her the way you worried about Sylus. Despite getting to know him better, you were still terrified of angering the crown prince if he found out you’d put Sylus at risk, or needlessly delayed his departure. 

You swung slowly in your seat in the greenhouse, watching your gardeners tend to some tropical plants that had been given to Sebastian as wedding gifts. The glasshouse was one of your favourite places in the palace. It was as large as a mansion and heated all year round to sustain plants from every corner of the world. A small fountain burbled in the centre, with benches and swings dotted around the space, along with a small dining area where you liked to host your friends. Your favourite swing sat beneath a canopy of wisteria, where you could hide from the world. When Sylus was only known as Sir Skye, he used to stand next to you and gently push the swing as you talked. And when the greenhouse was empty enough, you’d invite him to sit with you.

That day, you sat there, swaying gently by yourself as the head gardener pointed out the leaves on a young Lemurian palm tree to his apprentice. You could catch snippets of their conversation, the older man explaining something about patience, and how many years it would take for that tree to bear fruit.

You noticed a butler wander into the greenhouse, then as soon as his eyes landed on you, he made a beeline straight for you. He handed you a letter with a bow, and your heart began to pound. You took it, thanking him, your fingers trembling.

Seeing your name in Sylus’s handwriting sent waves of panic and relief both crashing through you. He’s alive and well. You repeated the words to yourself like a prayer as you opened the envelope with shaking hands. 

Darling,

You must be terribly upset with me right now. I promise that I did not intend to worry you with my silence, and you may scold and punish me as much as you wish once I return. But please believe me, I had a good reason.

Your knight arrived safe and sound and delivered your letter to me. The first thing I asked Sir Caleb when I saw him was how you were. He assured me that you were well, although he also noted that you looked like you hadn’t slept much. For my sake, please make sure you sleep and eat plenty. 

After reading your letter and studying your map, I must say – I am impressed with your findings. Sending Sir Caleb instead of a messenger was good thinking, too. I always admired your heart, and now I find myself falling in love with your beautiful mind as well. I suspect that when my princess sinks her claws into a mystery, nothing in this world would persuade her to let it go. 

The next morning, we set off to monitor Hawthorne’s toll bridge. We managed to intercept an attack a few miles down the road, but unfortunately we couldn’t obtain any proof. Stalking the bridge was becoming too time-consuming, and we were running a risk of being discovered.

I decided a more direct approach was needed. I sent the twins to break into Hawthorne’s home and search through his records. We couldn’t find any written proof linking him to King Edward, although the twins found a draft for a petition. He plans to request permission to expand his winery further east toward the Belrose estate. Sebastian will have undoubtedly written to your father about this, so I will spare you the details.

We continued to monitor Hawthorne’s estate - after all, even if he didn’t keep any letters, surely someone had to carry them. Late one evening, we spotted a messenger leave through the rear gates. We decided to follow him, and once he’d ridden past Belrose and south toward the border, we intercepted him and relieved him of his post. And would you believe it – he carried a request for ‘more men, gold and Philos swords’, addressed to none other than our good friend King Edward. 

This was proof enough for me.

Sebastian and I both suspect that Lord Hawthorne is driven by ambition for Belrose’s lands. Did King Edward promise them to him? I will find the answer once we ride south. 

We will soon set off toward the border, announcing a friendly visit by Prince Sebastian, while the rest of us will accompany him disguised in Sun Guard uniforms. I can’t say that I’m thrilled to wear the uniform again, but the twins certainly are. I will ensure that they’re on their best behaviour while in Sun Guard armour, so they don’t damage your royal guard’s reputation. Once we are inside King Edward’s castle, we will play it by ear.

I understand that committing my plans to paper puts all of your hard work at risk. Yet if the worst were to happen, I couldn’t bear the thought of disappearing on you without writing one last letter. Or at the very least, without telling you this – 

You were right. 

Whatever awaits us down south, please know that I have no regrets. If I could turn back time and begin this journey again, regardless of how it ends, I would still choose the road that led me to you.

By the time you receive this letter, we will have already departed. Once I pass the border, I will be unable to send or receive any more messages. So please, sit tight and wait for me – I promise to return with good news soon. And when I do, I will make sure that everyone knows that I couldn’t have done it without you.

Love you always, 

Sylus

P.S. I have decided to borrow Sir Caleb for the time being. Please apologise to Miss Erin on my behalf. If he happens to return a little banged up, she is welcome to blame me entirely.

You sat back in your swing, the letter trembling in your hands. Reading it several times over, your eyes kept coming back to the words.

You were right. 

Resting your head back, you stared up at the hanging wisteria flowers above you. You repeated the words in your mind. Sylus had believed you and immediately took action. And he proved you right. You felt a small flicker of pride in your chest. Deep down, you knew that wasn’t what mattered the most. But you couldn’t help it. You’d been useful. Perhaps for the first time, your efforts reached somebody beyond the palace walls.

Despite this, your heart clenched again. He was already gone. If the letter had left the night before, then Sylus would have crossed the border yesterday. He was in Edward’s territory now – possibly even at his castle gates. Your eyes searched the letter until they landed on “we will play it by ear”. These words terrified you more than anything else. Sebastian playing anything by ear did not bode well. Even less so if Sylus was involved. Sebastian needed a voice of reason, and Sylus certainly wasn’t that. Would they attempt to negotiate? Would they kick off and start a conflict? Would Sylus ambush the king at night and…

You sat back in your leather chair, staring up at the ceiling. A fresh pile of post sat on your desk, most of it already opened and screened by palace officials. Nearby, on a little trolley, sat a steaming pot of tea and a tray of biscuits, courtesy of Erin. To keep your energy up, she had said.

Over just a few short days, the mountain of letters had been reduced to a few neat stacks, arranged on a desk nearby. Your task had been tedious. Mind-numbing even. It made you wonder how long Caine had been putting it off, if he had allowed it to get this bad. Much of the incoming post consisted of lords and ladies seeking advice on rulings and legalities, land and property disputes, and surprisingly – petty squabbles. From a lost cow to a runaway wife to a dispute over the allowed height of a hedge, all of it went back to your staff to deal with. But it did give you a glimpse into the everyday lives of your subjects.

On a nearby desk, you had set aside a pile of written accounts of suspicious activities. A guard had seen a hooded man run into the woods a day before an attack. A shepherd came upon an abandoned camp up the mountains. You couldn’t be certain whether they were related, but you didn’t want to risk missing any detail. Another pile consisted of various complaints from merchants and townsfolk. Traders had been attacked on the main road, their gold and goods taken from them and their guards beaten. Recently, a merchant had disappeared along with his stock. The only thing left behind was an empty cart, while his horses were found grazing on some grass nearby.

Your most important letters had come from Lady Alice Belrose, who governed an estate in the south-west region of your kingdom, where most of the trouble seemed to brew. The Belrose family was one of the oldest and wealthiest noble families in Solen, second only to yours. Their vineyards were known for producing Dragon’s Blood, King Aylus’s favourite wine, and they sent crates of it up north every season. Her own daughter was now known as Princess Adeline, after she married your brother Caine. Lady Alice was also the only person outside the palace who knew that Sebastian would travel south. She had kindly compiled a list for you of disturbances and robberies that her subjects had reported to her.

As you went along, you marked each location on a map pinned to a wall nearby. You stood from your chair and marked another spot. Most attack sites were dotted along the southbound main roads, as well as the forests and rivers around them, seemingly gradually spreading eastward. You wondered whether these bandits were growing bolder. A lot of the local robberies were of food and produce, making you think they were congregating somewhere and venturing out into towns. But when it came to merchants, they only seemed to target Soleners heading south to Philos. The type of goods taken seemed to be random, as if they didn’t particularly care what they stole, as long as it hurt your family’s pockets. However, you noted that it was usually smaller, easily portable goods that were taken. Heavy shipments like building materials and iron passed through the roads mostly unbothered. You found that very strange, and yet you couldn’t form a link between the attacks. It was almost as if the bandits knew when and where to strike.

You had gone through the identities of the attacked merchants, but you couldn’t find anything significant linking them. Some were small-time merchants; others carried cargo for large traders. Some worked directly for the crown, while others seemed unrelated. The only thing connecting them was that they were all Soleners. Traders and travellers from Philos and Onychinus passed unharmed. You wondered whether Edward wanted you to suspect Philos, or if he simply didn’t want to provoke them.

You flopped down into your chair again, eyeing the new post. You reached and pulled an envelope, and ripped it open without looking, unfolding the letter.

Dear Caine

Oh. You looked at the ripped envelope properly, reading the words HRH Prince Caine II, stamped with Lady Alice’s vine leaf seal. You mentally apologised to your brother for opening his personal mail and stuffed the letter back into its sleeve, wondering how it had ended up in your pile. You reached for a different letter, but your eyes drifted back to it, curious what Lady Alice would be writing about. Maybe he won’t mind me reading it, you thought, looking around you as if someone would catch you snooping. He must have left it there for me on purpose. Satisfied with your reasoning, you took the letter again and scanned the contents.

I am pleased to inform you that Prince Sebastian and Prince Sylus have been disposing of pests around my estate with great efficiency. Despite this, scoundrels are still finding their way to travellers along the roads, even those venturing on different routes. My own merchants are still attacked, even after making last-minute changes to their arrangements. How is this possible?

Word has spread of their success, and people have begun to ask questions. This forced me to announce that I have sent my guards to patrol the roads. I hope you won’t mind me taking the credit for the time being–I thought it prudent to conceal the princes’ involvement for now.

However, I have some concerning news. The very next day after my announcement, one of my vineyards caught fire. Once the fires were contained, a servant found a note, stating: “Do not meddle in matters which you do not understand.” I fear that somebody does not want me to interfere, and they are likely within our borders.

I no proof of anything, but I would suggest looking westward. Whatever is poisoning these lands did not grow in mine.

P.S. Give Adeline my regards, and please send more portraits of my grandchildren. They must have grown already.

You stared at the letter, processing the information. Lady Alice’s property had been attacked. And she seemed to imply that someone had been feeding the bandits information. But how could one of your own people do this? You didn’t understand what they had to gain. You went up to your map, your eyes fluttering between the letter and the parchment, hoping that everything would suddenly click into place. She said to look westward–but what, or who, was that way?

You felt foolish staring blankly at the map, knowing full well this was completely going over your head. If Caine were here, you thought, he would immediately know what to do. Your shoulders slumped in defeat.

A palace clerk would do a better job than me.

Resigned that you would have to pass this on to Caine to unravel, you trudged back to your seat, dropping onto it with a huff, tossing the letter aside. You played with a trinket absent-mindedly, feeling a little bitter at just how sheltered and… ignorant your upbringing had left you. But then, you realised, you had never really asked for more, had you?

You grabbed a letter reluctantly, and your pout immediately disappeared at the sight of Sylus’s handwriting. You ripped it open with renewed enthusiasm, adjusting yourself straighter in your seat as you read the words on the paper.

My love

Your heart fluttered at the writing all over again, as if it were the first time he called you that.

I am so happy to hear that you are keeping yourself busy in my absence. I was half-afraid that you would be so worried for me that you might take off in the middle of the night to find me.

You laughed under your breath. You had been fantasising about doing exactly that.

I would like you to rest assured that your brother and I are getting along splendidly. There’s nothing like a few brawls and some nights in a dingy inn to set aside our differences.

We have successfully cleared four different caves and bandit camps together, although we’ve found no proof of who sent them yet. I have to say, though, you Soleners even give your caves magical, fairytale-like names. The Fairy Ring. The Crystal Deep. The Whispering Cave. Fascinating. In the north, we normally call them something like the Devil’s Backside, and call it a day.

You smiled at his musings. He was as intrigued by your customs as you were by his. You wondered whether Sebastian would argue against their newfangled friendship, though.

I dreamt of you last night. We were at the Onyx Keep. Wintertime must be making me think of Onychinus.

It was nighttime in my dream. We were standing on my bedroom balcony, watching the snow fall around us. You said you had never seen this much snow before. I drew a little cat in the snow, like so…

You lowered your eyes, smiling at the crude drawing of a cat. Its head was round and chubby, with a mischievous smile on its face.

You pouted and complained that it should have been a leopard instead. Then you offered to clear the snow from my hair, and when I leaned in, you stuffed more snow down my neck.

The last thing I remember before waking up was your laughter. I miss the sound of it. I wish I had recorded your voice in a music box so I could listen to it here.

But as I lay in bed at night, I can’t help but wonder–do you dream of me, too?

They say that soulmates share their dreams. If I happen to wander into yours, please don’t chase me away. I’m beginning to think that stealing a few hours with you each night would be the only way to survive this separation.

You sighed, gazing wistfully at the letter. You thought I would run off after you, you thought with a quiet giggle. But look at you… pining.

You pressed the letter to your chest and wiggled in your seat, imagining Sylus tossing and turning at night, thinking about you. You hastily cleared room on your desk and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out your writing supplies.

Of course I wouldn’t just sit around and wallow in misery…

You scribbled with a grin.

…but I do miss you every day. You must hurry and return soon – so that I can show you just how much I’ve missed you.

Has Sebastian told you the legend of the Fairy Ring? If a fairy tries to lure you deeper inside, you must not–

Your pen stuttered to a stop. You took Sylus’s letter again, gazing at the list of caves. You stood up slowly and walked over to your map. Dragging a finger up and west from Willowby, you located a small cave symbol on the map. The Fairy Ring was a well-known landmark; you were certain that was the one. You picked up a charcoal pencil from a desk nearby and circled it. Following the marking of the mountains, you found the other two caves, drawing a line between them. Further west was a fourth, and you placed a question mark over it. Was this the fourth camp that Sylus mentioned? Then, tracing your way back to Willowby, you circled an area known to be the Belrose estate.

There had to be a missing puzzle piece connecting all these locations. But you still couldn’t see it. I need more information. Setting your letter down, you began to rummage through a pot full of rolled-up maps.

Topological Overview of Solen

Natural Resources

Capital City And Surrounding Areas

Lordships and Administration of Solen

“Oh!” You whispered to yourself, pulling out the map. Pinning it next to your own, you compared the south-western regions.

“Lordship of Belrose,” you muttered as you followed the outlines, drawing them over your map. It encompassed all of Lady Alice’s estates, Willowby, and–you realised with a bated breath–most attack hotspots.

Then you inspected your new map, searching for who resided west of Lady Alice. Your eyes landed on Lordship of Hawthorne. Another winemaker lord. As you traced his lordship’s borders, you strained your memory for what you knew of him. You had always found him unpleasant, so you had never paid him much mind, personally. While he certainly couldn’t boast of being a king’s favourite, his vineyard did well. Well enough to gain significant wealth and expand his vineyards dramatically over the past summer.

With the back of your pencil, you traced the main trade route through Lord Hawthorne’s lands, into Lady Belrose’s, and south towards the border. Your eyes lingered on the Stara River, tracking your steps back up the river leading from Belrose and through Hawthorne. Looking over at the administrative map, you noticed a red line where the main road crossed the river. Pulling the corner closer, you inspected the legend–your eyes landing on the red symbol.

Toll bridge.

“Huh…” you muttered. “A traveller checkpoint.”

You placed your pencil across the checkpoint, separating the area into two sections and revealing a glaring distinction. All roads further into Hawthorne’s estate seemed safe, while past the checkpoint, the attacks began. Your eyes went wide in surprise.

Then a thought struck you. Every merchant was required to declare their goods and pay a toll when passing this checkpoint. Your breath caught. Hawthorne’s guards would know exactly who was on the move… and when. Thinking back to Lady Alice’s words, travellers were intercepted regardless of whether they changed their routes and travel times. It would seem impossible, unless they all passed through the same checkpoint first.

You took a shaky breath, trying not to get ahead of yourself.

You considered the possibility that one or more of Hawthorne’s guards were conspiring with the attackers. They could leak information, the bandits would attack, then share the spoils. Or somebody with access to toll records could be involved.

Could Lord Hawthorne himself be protecting them?

You shuddered at the thought. If he did, this would be way beyond you.

Chewing on your lip, you ran back to your desk, flipping open your log book. Standing hunched over the pages, you traced the table with names and occupations of all victims.

Independent merchant.

Aster family.

Fish merchants.

Belrose family.

Crown.

Belrose family.

You turned a page.

Wool trader.

Independent merchant.

Crown.

Valesse family.

Independent merchant.

Flipping through more and more pages, a realisation dawned on you. All nearby noblemen had reported losses over the past month. All except Hawthorne. Why wasn’t he suffering? Perhaps the bandits simply did not dare venture past the bridge, knowing it would be heavily guarded.

No.

That didn’t explain how the attackers knew exactly when to intercept merchants. A leak within Hawthorne’s lordship was becoming more and more likely. If this was true, every hour Sylus spent clearing another cave was another hour the real culprit remained hidden.

I need to tell Sylus everything.

You pulled out a pair of scissors from your drawers and walked up to your map. For a moment you hesitated, looking around, considering tracing the map instead. Eh… there's no time. Caine can buy another. Holding the lower left corner, you carefully cut out a square of your entire south-western region. Placing it on your desk, you looked sadly at your unfinished letter.

“I’m sorry, Sylus.” You set the paper aside. “I will write sweet nothings to you next time.”

Then you dipped your pen in ink and began to write a new letter.

Once you had finished writing all of your findings, you sat back in your chair, staring at the fat envelope. It was sealed with wax and wrapped up in twine like a Winter Festival gift.

“It’s all well and good that I wrote this,” you said. “But how will I get it to him?”

You thought of handing it to your messenger. He was a loyal man, worthy to be entrusted with their whereabouts. But a thought nagged at the back of your mind. What if your messenger was attacked on the way, and the letter was stolen? If this was true, and an enemy saw the letter, it would endanger Sylus, your brother and Lady Alice. Someone reliable and strong was needed. Briefly, you thought about Prince Xavier or Prince Kaylen. You shook your head. There was no way a prince would ride a horse for hours to deliver a letter. You had no proof anyway; would they consider it that important?

Brushing your fingers through your ponytail, you felt the red ribbon that Sylus had gifted you at the night fair. Twirling the ribbon absent-mindedly in your fingers, you wondered whether Doctor Zayne could find someone. The easiest solution was to ask Caine but… for some reason, you wanted to do it yourself. With a little pang in your chest, you wondered whether that was foolish and prideful.

A Sun Guard would surely deliver it safely. But would it not be obvious if one of your royal guards dashed south on a horse?

Who, then? You struggled to think of someone strong, reliable and inconspicuous.

The feel of your silk ribbon brought you back to the image of Erin handing hers to Sir Caleb at the jousts. The memory made you smile to yourself, filling you with nostalgia. It was bittersweet now, knowing you could never go back to that time. To your puppy love for your sworn guard, to Erin blushing at Sir Caleb’s display.

Sir Caleb. He was strong and fast. People said he could ride like the wind, as if he had wings on his back. You bit your lip. But was he trustworthy? Surely he would not betray you if he had affections for Erin.

You placed your palms on your chair’s armrests, lifting yourself and wincing at how stiff you’d become in your seat. Even with a cushion beneath you, your backside ached. Crossing the room, you swung open the door of your study abruptly, making your pair of guards stiffen and stand at attention.

“I have a task for you,” you spoke to them, eyes flitting between the two. “I need one of you to search for Sir Caleb, please.”

Your guards shared an uncertain look. “Apologies, Your Highness,” one answered gingerly. “Who is Sir Caleb?”

“Of the Xia Orchard,” you answered plainly. Their expressions remained blank. “Sir Apples?” You offered with a sigh.

Understanding washed over their faces. “I’ll fetch him, my lady,” one answered, stepping toward you.

“Please bring him to me as soon as possible,” you instructed. “And be discreet.”

“Yes, my lady.” He answered with a bow and turned on his heel, his heavy steps echoing down the long hall.

Several hours had passed since your guard had departed. Still glued to your desk, you waited anxiously, wondering whether he couldn’t find Sir Caleb, or whether the apple knight had refused to see you. You hoped that wasn’t the case.

Then a knock came to your door.

“Come in!” You called out, adjusting yourself in your seat.

The door opened, and Sir Caleb walked in. He approached your desk and dropped to one knee. “Your Highness,” he said politely, keeping his gaze low.

“Y-yes. Hi. Hello.” You stammered, wincing inwardly and wanting to slap yourself for your awkwardness. Unsure why you were so nervous, you cleared your throat, trying to recover. “Sit, please.”

Sir Caleb rose and took a seat across from you, worry etched all over his face. He was dressed in a nice, elegant outfit, and it was clear that he had been in the middle of something when your guard had found him and dragged him away. Oddly, it gave you relief seeing that he was more nervous than you. He waited for you to speak.

“I have a request to make of you.” You began, putting in your best effort to sound regal. “For a very sensitive issue.”

Sir Caleb’s face relaxed, and you wondered whether he had been expecting some sort of reprimand. Hmm, what for? You thought with amusement, fighting the urge to smile.

“What can I do for you, my lady?” He asked, the curiosity showing on his face.

“My brother and my fiancé are… away.” You explained, and his eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise. “I need someone to deliver an urgent message, and I need them to be fast and discreet.”

“You can count on me, Your Highness.” Caleb’s answer was immediate, placing a hand over his chest. “How far do you need me to ride?”

Doubting your plan, you hesitated, chewing on your lip for a short moment. Please don’t refuse.

“Willowby,” you finally answered.

Sir Caleb looked confused, questions visibly churning in his head. “What message do you need me to take?”

Opening your desk drawer, you pulled out the thick envelope and slid it across the desk. “It is very important that nobody other than my brother or Prince Sylus gets hold of this package.” You explained. “Would you do this for me?”

“I swear to you, my lady.” Sir Caleb declared, his voice firm as he reached for the parcel. “Nobody else will lay eyes on it.”

“You also cannot tell anyone that you’re meeting them.” You instructed. “No one can know that they’re there.”

“Yes, my lady.” He nodded. “And where in Willowby will I find them?”

This was what you were worried about. “All I know is that they’re staying at an inn.” You pursed your lips. “One described as dingy, with straw beds.”

“Not a problem, my lady.” He seemed unfazed. “I will find them.”

His confidence brought you relief, and you smiled. “Thank you, Sir Caleb. I promise I will reward you generously upon your return.” You reached into your desk drawers again, rummaging for your purse. “And of course, for your travel costs–”

“About this, my lady…” Sir Caleb’s voice came a little sheepish, making you pause and glance back at him. “I don’t require any gold. But I have one reward I would like to request.”

“Yes?” Your eyebrows rose at the sudden shift in his demeanour.

“May I ask..." He shifted in his seat. “Once Prince Sylus returns, do you plan to move to Onychinus with him?”

His question stunned you for a moment, and you blinked at him. “Yes, I will be going north.” Your heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“In that case, my lady,” he looked at you earnestly, his fists balling in his lap. “Please allow me to escort you north as your guard.”

You did not expect that sort of request. It left you at a loss for words for a moment. “You wish to be my sworn guard?”

“No, my lady.” He shook his head. “I would rather not swear such vows. But I would like to follow you north.”

“This is all that you want?” You narrowed your eyes at the knight. “I may not return here.”

“This is all the reward I need, my lady.” He answered firmly. Humming in thought, you eyed the man in front of you as you crossed your arms. You were starting to see the real intent behind his request.

“I will do you one better.” You offered with a knowing smile, as Sir Caleb perked up in his seat. “You may join me in Onychinus. And I will promise you that, if one day you require my blessing to marry a certain maid, you will have it.”

Sir Caleb’s eyes widened a fraction. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He answered, and quickly rose from his seat, tucking the envelope into his coat’s inner pocket. “I will leave at once.”

“One more thing, Sir Caleb.” You rose with him and walked around the desk. “You must avoid Lord Hawthorne’s men, and any of their checkpoints.”

He nodded firmly, and you walked with him out of your study, where your guards stood watch.

“Provide Sir Caleb with anything he needs.” You turned to one of the knights. “And let him choose a horse from the stables.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard answered swiftly and stepped towards Sir Caleb.

“Safe travels,” you offered Sir Caleb one last smile. After a deep bow, he turned and went on his way.

You watched him walk in silence with your knight, holding your breath, half expecting something to go wrong. Then, once they turned a corner, you let out a deep, long breath and staggered one step back, leaning into the door frame.

“And this area here.” Lady Jade rapped the map with her wooden pointer. “Is the Frostlands. A vast, uninhabited, frozen wasteland. And Queen Vaelia is very interested in it.”

You dunked your pen in ink and quickly scribbled your notes as she spoke. “Why would she be interested in it? There’s hardly anything on the map.”

“Because,” Lady Jade adjusted her glasses. “She thinks there may be treasures or ore underneath all that ice. She offers pay to any adventurers willing to explore it and map it.”

“She seems very enterprising,” you mused, gently biting your fountain pen. “What is she like?”

The question you truly wanted to ask was: Is she difficult to impress? King Aylus was starting to seem less intimidating, and more… agreeable, the more you learned about him. But the queen was still very much a mystery to you.

“How shall I say this?” Lady Jade paused, crossing her arms. “King Aylus is known to leave a lot of the ruling in her hands.”

“But it is the king who comes from the Qin family, is he not?” You tilted your head.

“Yes, but…” Lady Jade sighed, “We’re getting off topic; we’re discussing Onychinus’s geography today.”

“No, please!” You leaned forward, dropping your pen. You were far more intrigued by Sylus’s family than by mountains and rivers. “Tell me more about them.”

Lady Jade looked conflicted for a moment, then sighed.

“Alright.” She gave in, knowing you would not focus on your studies otherwise. “King Aylus was not…” she paused, looking for the right words. “...meant to rule at all.”

“Oh!” You picked up your pen, but she raised her hand in protest.

“Don’t write any of this down.” She warned, and you dropped the pen immediately. “This is not a part that will go into the history books.”

You sat still, eager to hear more.

“King Aylus is the old king’s nephew,” she began, taking a seat opposite you. “Despite having no legitimate heirs of his own, it is widely known that the king did not favour Aylus. He was never in line to inherit Onychinus.”

“He overthrew the old king, didn’t he?” You knew that much. “His uncle was a tyrant. With our support, he rallied the nobles of Onychinus, took the crown for himself and started a new age of prosperity for Onychinus.” You recited the story, as it had been taught to all children.

“Well, yes.” She shifted in her seat. “That is the official story that will go on record. And it is true, the old king was as stupid as he was cruel. But that’s not why Aylus overthrew him.”

“Then why?”

“Queen Vaelia,” Lady Jade’s tone was flat, matter-of-fact. “In his youth, Aylus spent several years in her family’s duchy. According to rumours, they fell in love and wanted to marry. But her family had other plans for her. She is meant to be queen, they said, not just some lady.”

You listened without interrupting, your heart thrumming with every word.

“So, they refused." She continued. "Then Aylus declared to them that he would make her queen, if that’s what they wanted.”

You blinked at her, struggling to comprehend. “And that’s why he started a rebellion? All for Vaelia?”

“Indeed.” Lady Jade smiled. “Like father, like son, don’t you think?”

You flushed at her words, heat creeping up your neck.

“There’s another part to the story that will likely be forgotten once we’re no longer here.” She continued. “How did King Aylus manage to raise an army? Why did so many nobles join his cause? And where did all this gold come from?” She raised her hands, adding drama to her tale.

“Because…” you muttered, already expecting this would be the wrong answer. “Everyone hated the incompetent king?”

Lady Jade shook her head.

“No one has ever proved it, but many believe that Vaelia’s family supported him in secret.” She said, her voice quiet. “They claimed to be neutral, that it was not their conflict. But they wanted her to be queen, no? So, allegedly they gave him a push. Gold. Whispers in the right ears. And then he found himself here,” she motioned around her. “Training with your father.”

You sat back into your seat, stunned. “All this,” you whispered, astonished. “To make Vaelia a queen? He gifted her a kingdom.”

And not just any kingdom, you thought as you stared at the map before you. The expanse of Onychinus dwarfed every kingdom on the map, Philos being the only power on the continent that still matched their might.

“It was the only way.” Lady Jade shrugged. “Luckily for the people of Onychinus, Vaelia is much wiser than his uncle.”

“Do you think Prince Kaylen would tell me more about her?” There was so much more you wanted to ask, but you worried whether it would offend the prince. The mere suggestion that his family schemed in this way could anger him, whether it was true or not.

“I don’t see why not.” Lady Jade pulled you out of your thoughts. She grabbed the armrests and rose from her seat with a huff. “Alright. I’m going to show you where they make their gold. Grab your pen; you’re going to memorise every single mine.”

You groaned and picked up your pen again, dipping it in ink.

Marcia’s Emerald Mine.

Crow’s Hollow.

The Devil’s Eyes, a ruby mine.

Then the mines along the Old Mountains, starting with Nestor’s Mine, then The Sleeping Giant’s Cave, The Black Maw Mine…

And er…Vrana’s… something? Bird Cave? No…

Should I try to learn them in alphabetical order instead? It may be easier…

You walked the grand palace halls, reciting as many landmark names as you could remember under your breath, while your two gargoyles followed close behind. But despite your best efforts, you still found Sylus’s family much more interesting than their gold mines. From the way your family and the Qin princes spoke of them, King Aylus came across as fierce, driven and fearless. Passionate, almost to a fault, you thought. But you hadn’t learned very much about Queen Vaelia yet. If Prince Kaylen truly took after her, you feared that she would be more difficult to win over.

They all seem so extraordinary. Maybe I’m not doing enough. But how could I ever…

Lost in thought, you turned a corner and came upon two butlers. They were perched atop ladders, holding a large, heavy painting between them.

“Hmm, higher…” Your brother Caine stood below them, a stack of papers pressed to his chest.

The butlers hoisted it higher, as he hummed and tapped his chin with a finger. “A little higher…”

Then he noticed you, and his face lit up - or as much as it could, considering his injuries. He still wore a splint on his nose, the bruising now fading from purple to green, brown and yellow, spreading under his eyes like dark circles.

“What are you doing?” You stood beside him, gazing up at the painting.

“Sebastian received this piece from Master Rafayel as a wedding gift.” He explained, his voice still slightly nasal. “I’ve finally found a suitable place for it. The windows behind us will ensure it’s well lit.”

“Is this good, Your Highness?” One of the butlers managed with a grunt, his voice strained as they struggled to hold the large canvas steady.

“Ah, yes. That’s fine,” Caine called out. “Make sure that the oval painting above is lined up with the centre.”

The butlers carefully lowered the painting and began preparing the wall. You studied it as they worked - it depicted a turbulent sea, its waves violently rolling and crashing against jagged cliffs. The sky was red and angry, its colour bleeding into the foaming water below. On the cliff stood the figure of a woman with long, dark hair, gazing out into the storm without a hint of fear. You couldn’t explain why, but the painting gave you an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Something about it unsettled you.

“Do you think Lemuria has red seas, then?” You tilted your head.

“I don’t think so.” Your brother muttered. “But the Lemurians speak of a pink beach.”

“A pink beach?!” You gasped, linking your arm with his. “I don’t believe that! You’re making it up!”

Caine laughed, the movement making a few papers slip from his grasp. You bent down to help him collect them from the floor. You picked up a piece of paper, noticing it was a letter.

…I humbly implore your assistance in recovering my losses…

“What is this?” You asked, still scanning the letter. “It looks like a petition.”

“That’s exactly what it is.” The prince sighed. “I’m cataloguing all letters of complaint, petitions and suspicious activities from the south,” he explained, as you handed him the letter, adding it to his stack.

“Are you looking for clues to help Sylus and Sebastian?” You eyed the papers, suddenly very curious to read them.

“That’s right,” Caine said with a warm smile.

You bit your lip, an idea coming to you. “Can I help?”

Caine’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you sure?” He leaned into you, lowering his voice. “You may find some, er… distressing details in those letters.”

Irritation prickled under your skin, and you exhaled sharply through your nose. “I am more than capable of reading distressing details!” You held your chin high, crossing your arms.

“It’s long, tedious work.” He looked unconvinced that you were up to it.

“Yes, but…” You lowered your gaze, feeling ashamed of the words that you were about to say. “They’re risking their lives out there. I want to help them, rather than sit here useless and wallow in self-pity.”

Caine pursed his lips, visibly beginning to waver as your pleading eyes seemed to strike him right through the heart.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Caine exhaled, defeated, and shook his head with a warm, placating smile. “Follow me.” He motioned for you as he turned on his heel.

The smile quickly returned to your face, and you took off after him, leaving the butlers behind to finish their task. Caine led you to a study and placed the stack of papers on the desk… atop a much larger pile. The desk was positively overflowing with paperwork.

“These are all complaints from the south?” Your eyes went wide as saucers, making Caine chuckle.

“No.” He shook his head. “This is every single letter that we received this past month.” He walked up behind you and gently pushed you forward by your shoulders. “Your first task…” He continued, sitting you down on the leather desk chair, “is to sort any relevant letters from the rest.” You looked up to find your brother smiling brightly down at you, looking too pleased to leave this task to you.

“That sounds easy enough…” You said with an awkward laugh.

“Letters bearing a royal stamp have already been actioned by palace officials. You can set them aside for archiving.” He patted your shoulder reassuringly. “Anything irrelevant that still hasn’t been seen to, you can hand back to Lord Aster. He’ll find someone else to deal with it.”

“And anything relevant to our issue?” You asked, a little nervous to hear his answer.

Caine tapped a log book that lay closed among the piles of letters. “You must record every detail that stands out to you. Names, locations, complaint details. Follow my notes or do it your own way.”

You reached over and gingerly opened the large log book. You flipped through the pages, skimming your brother’s handwriting. You found pieces of information neatly arranged into rows and columns. Then you slammed the book closed decisively and turned to him, excitement already brimming in your chest. “Leave it to me, brother!” You beamed at him. “You go focus on your princely duties and broken nose!”

Caine laughed at first, instinctively touching the splint on his nose. Then he regarded you thoughtfully for a moment, as though weighing your words. Finally, he nodded. “I will have the incoming post delivered to you, then.”

As Caine made his way to the door, you dragged your chair closer to the desk and rolled your sleeves up, eager to begin your work. “I will leave you to it, before you change your mind,” he said, quick to make his escape.

“C-Caine!” You called to him before he could close the door behind him. He looked back at you over his shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t disappoint you!” You said, a little flustered.

“Of course.” He gave you a warm smile, then eyed the mountain of paperwork. “Don’t curse me later if you regret this.”

You peeked at him over the stacks of letters. “I might do.”

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke. Then laughter filled the room.

“Call for me if you need assistance.” Caine shook his head as he turned to leave.

You nodded vigorously, and he closed the door behind him, leaving you in silence with your mounds of paper. You stared at the letters and still-sealed envelopes scattered before you, unable to hide the awe on your face.

For the first time since Sylus had ridden through the palace gates, the waiting no longer seemed so daunting.

I have a job.

You stood in the palace courtyard, wrapped in a warm shawl, watching the men around you ready their horses. Sylus wore a black outfit - all wool and leather, something that looked like his men had brought from up north. You watched him attach his swords to his belt, his brow furrowed as he fiddled with the straps. Nearby, Sebastian was helping a knight finish loading supplies onto a cart.

There were surprisingly few men and horses out. There wasn’t an army. No crowds gathered to send them off with fanfare and celebration. Instead, they were leaving before sunrise, slipping away while the palace and capital still slept. You recognised the red-haired twins and a few other men from Prince Kaylen’s entourage, all wearing plain, black armour.

Sylus glanced over his shoulder and caught you watching him from the steps. He crossed the courtyard slowly and stood before you, a forced smile on his face. Noticing the small clouds of your breath in the cold morning air, he reached up and pulled your shawl tighter around you. His hands found your shoulders, his thumbs stroking you gently. You stood in silence for a long moment, neither of you knowing what to say. He sighed and pulled you into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head. You burrowed into his embrace, sniffling lightly. It’s only the cold, you told yourself.

“Send a messenger as soon as you settle in Willowby,” you muttered into his chest. “I want to know everything.”

“Mmhm.” His arms tightened around you. “I promise you, the messengers won’t get a moment’s rest.”

You wrapped your arms around him, imagining climbing into the cart and setting off with him. By the time they found you hidden in their supplies, you reckoned, it would be too late to turn back.

“Why are there so few of you?”

“More will join us as we pass through the capital.”

You sighed and fell silent again, melting into his arms, trying to squeeze every second you had with him.

“Please be safe.” Your voice cracked. “No showing off, and no taking risks.”

“I promise to be careful,” he whispered above you. “I’ll come back before you know it.”

“And you must eat well, and–”

A flash of white caught your eye, halting your words, and you pulled away from Sylus, glancing toward the palace steps. Lady Celia ran down the steps and threw herself at Sebastian. He caught her, lifting her into the air, and she clung to his shoulders, hiccuping and sobbing words that you couldn’t make out. Not wanting to stare, you took Sylus’s hands, lowering your eyes.

“See?” He said softly, and you looked up to find him gazing down at you with a sad smile. “Could be worse. At least they’re not interrupting our honeymoon.”

“If we get to have one at all…” You mumbled, your eyes stinging with tears.

“I’ll make sure that we do. It’ll be the honeymoon of your dreams.” He squeezed your hands. “I swear to you.”

“You’re making a lot of promises.”

“And I’ll keep every single one.” He answered without a hint of hesitation, and you cracked a small smile through your tears. With a sigh, you reached into the neckline of your dress and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to him. He held it to his face with a small smile, closing his eyes for a moment. “It smells like your perfume.”

“And when it fades, it means it’s time to return,” you said, dabbing your eyes with your sleeve.

“I’ll treasure it,” he murmured, folding it carefully and placing it into his coat’s inner pocket.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, letting them linger for a moment before pulling back. You whined and chased his lips, grabbing onto his coat and pulling him back toward you for another kiss. You squeezed so tight your knuckles turned white. When you finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling together in the cold morning air. He looked toward the horizon, frowning at the pink and orange rays bleeding into the sky.

“It’s time to go,” he whispered, reluctant to move despite his words.

You gripped the fabric of his coat harder, your voice coming out small and weak. “Not yet.”

Gods, you sound pathetic, you thought as your vision blurred again.

Sylus cradled your face in his hands and pressed one last, tender kiss to your lips, like he was trying to imprint the feel of them into his memory. When he pulled back, your hand shot out, catching his before he could step away. For a breath, he held on, his fingers curling around yours. Then slowly, reluctantly, he stepped away from you, his hand slipping from yours. He turned and headed towards his horse, pulling his gloves on as he went. He climbed onto his horse, and set off without looking back. One by one, his men followed after him. With one last kiss to his wife’s lips, Sebastian peeled himself off her, and hopped on his horse, galloping to catch up with Sylus.

Lady Celia approached you and stood at your side, eyes puffy and red with tears, as you watched them ride off in silence. In the distance, you caught Sylus leaning toward Sebastian to say something, who seemed to bristle like an angry cat and hissed something back, gripping the reins tight. Sylus laughed in response as they rode on.

“See? They’re getting along already.” You linked your arm with hers. She laughed weakly, dabbing her tears with her sleeves. Watching Celia desperately try to hold it together made you remember Sylus’s words.

At least they’re not interrupting our honeymoon.

You felt an odd sense of comfort by the thought that you weren’t the only one going through this. Sebastian and Celia had their own story, and the knights and henchmen were likely sent off with similar farewells.

“I’m so sorry.” She sniffled beside you. “I’m such a crybaby.”

“Look at me, I’m just as bad.” You said with a small laugh, wiping your own tears. You watched the great castle gates close shut, the men disappearing behind them.

A chill went through you, making you shiver.

“Let’s get inside, then,” you squeezed Celia’s arm. “Before everyone sees us blubbering.”

Once you were inside, you managed to keep a straight face until you reached your bedroom. As soon as the guard closed the door, you flopped onto your bed with a heavy sigh, kicking off your shoes. You grabbed a pillow and hugged it close, curling your body into it. You could still feel his touch, his warmth on you. You pressed your face into your pillow, letting it muffle your sobs and soak up your tears.

Your thoughts wandered back to the last time you cried like this in your bed, when Sir Godwyn had retired.

All of my guards seem to leave me behind like this. You laughed bitterly at yourself. I’m never taking a sworn guard again.

Except the first time you’d been crying over losing your glorified babysitter, as the servants called him. This time, you were crying over your fiancé.

Eventually the fatigue from your sleepless night caught up with you, and you succumbed to the warmth of your bed.

You woke up to a soft knock on your door. Wiping your face with a hand, you pushed yourself up, confused and disoriented. When you peeled your eyes open, they felt dry and tender, the feeling making you wince. You couldn’t tell how long you’d slept, or what time of day it was. You instinctively patted the bed beside you, reaching for Sylus, and then you remembered. He was gone.

“Come in,” you called out, your voice thick with sleep. After some rustling on the other side of the door, Erin entered, carrying a tray of food.

“Your Highness.” She placed the tray down and sat beside you, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Do you want to talk?”

Ugh, do I look that pitiful? You thought, seeing the look in her eyes. You placed your hand on top of hers.

“Thank you, Erin. For now…” You tried to give her your best reassuring smile. “I’d prefer a distraction.”

“Yes, my lady,” she said, deciding not to press. “How about a bath and some food? I made your favourite."

“You’re a star.” You patted her hand gently before letting go.

The rest of your day passed in a daze. Erin told you various stories and gossip from around the palace as you soaked in your bath. You listened for the most part, but your mind kept drifting to Sylus, to his mission, and the danger he was walking into. You wondered whether he had already reached Willowby.

“Sir Caleb says his family has acquired apple seeds from a faraway kingdom,” Erin said, as she patted your hair dry with a soft towel.

“I wonder if they taste good.” You leaned your head back into her hands.

“I don’t know about that. But he says that they’re supposed to bloom into lovely pink blossoms in spring.”

“They sound beautiful,” you muttered absentmindedly. “He’s trying to impress you.”

As Erin protested behind you, your mind drifted to Celia. You wondered if she had made any friends at the palace yet.

“Erin.” You looked at her in the mirror. “Would you please invite Madeleine and Eleanor to dinner?”

“That’s a great idea, my lady.” Erin seemed genuinely pleased as she reached for your hairbrush.

“And…” You paused. “Please invite Lady Celia, too.”

When you first ventured out of your room that day, you discovered that you had not one, but two guards. You stared at them for a moment. They stood, expressionless, at each side of your door like a pair of gargoyles.

Father, you sighed. He really meant it when he said I’m not going anywhere.

Then a second day came without your Sylus.

And a third.

Then a fourth.

It felt so… odd, not having him around. It didn’t feel right spending your days without him leaning against a wall, humming a tune, pulling out some blade from god-knows-where and inspecting it. Your new guards were twice as many, yet twice as quiet. Most of all, you missed the banter. The way he teased you. Not even Maddie dared say half the things he said. On a few occasions, out of pure habit, you turned to your guards for comment, and all you received was a hesitant “yes, my lady” or “no, my lady”. The awkward silence afterwards felt so wrong. Your family checked on you often, with hugs, words of comfort and encouragement, and eyes full of pity.

Anxiety crept up on you each day that you’d received no word from Sylus. Willowby wasn’t that far, and the roads were decent. Your mind raced with scenarios of what could have delayed his letter.

They were ambushed by bandits.

He’s been injured.

The messenger was attacked.

“Argh, you’re ruminating again!” You spoke to the quiet library, slapping your hands onto your cheeks. “His mission is more important than belly-gazing and writing lovesick letters!”

Your words brought a sudden realisation. Sylus couldn't afford to lie down and feel sorry for himself, and neither should you. He was working for your future. You ought to do the same.

But what do I do?

You looked down at books spread out on the desk before you. The Intricacies of Statecraft by Magister Thaddeus lay open. It was a book so tedious that a palace official had allegedly set fire to his own beard out of frustration. You slapped it closed and pushed it away.

What’s the point of studying this? Neither Sylus nor I will be inheriting any thrones. I’d be better off learning about Onychinus.

You paused. That was an idea. It wouldn’t do to arrive in Onychinus ignorant of their customs, traditions, and history. You only knew as much as anyone did, which wasn’t nearly enough if you were going to be marrying their prince. You had your tutor, and you had Prince Kaylen; they were plenty enough to prepare you.

“No more dodging Lady Jade.” You declared, slapping your hands on the desk and standing up from your seat, ready to hunt down your tutor.

Then the library doors swung open, making you jump.

“My lady!” Erin barged in, waving a stack of papers. “The messenger’s here.”

You gasped, beaming at her. She hurried over to you, and you took the letters, heart thrumming in your chest. You threw yourself back in your seat and opened the first one you saw, ripping the envelope.

Dear Sister,

Oh. It was your brother.

I thought you should know that all is well. Everything is going according to plan, so please do not worry.

You relaxed back into your seat, flooded with relief. You felt like a weight you’d been carrying for days had finally lifted.

However.

That fiancé of yours is one royal pain up my backside. He is near impossible to work with. Every hour he tests my patience. He is arrogant. He is aggravating, and I believe he does it on purpose. How do you tolerate him, dear sister?

As soon as we arrived, he disappeared in the dead of night. One evening he returned with some scoundrel who’d been sniffing around the village. I’ve never seen a man dragged by the foot like that.

Now that he is not hiding his identity, it’s as if he’s unfettered. He can be downright terrifying, if I have to be honest. Not to me, obviously, but to others. I am glad we are not his enemies.

I must say, your taste in men is appalling.

You clutched the letter to your chest, a small giggle escaping you. “That’s my Sylus!”

“Are they well?” Erin hovered near you as you quickly read the rest of his letter.

“Yes!” You handed her Sebastian’s letter excitedly. “See for yourself!”

As Erin read your brother’s complaints, you looked at the second envelope. You peeled the seal off and pulled the letter out, suddenly feeling oddly nervous to read it.

My love,

I can imagine that you’re upset that I didn’t write sooner. We’ve had to be discreet in Willowby - it’s only a small village, and we’ve already encountered a few suspicious characters.

Unfortunately, none of them carried any proof of where their orders come from. I managed to squeeze some information, however, about a cave where bandits are supposedly hiding like rats. I hope that at least one of them will be literate enough to carry written orders.

You imagined Sylus capturing enemies and squeezing information out of them. Venturing into dark caves and clearing out bandit camps. Rescuing captured merchants. You wished you could see that side of him.

I miss you terribly. All I have is a straw bed, your handkerchief, and my memories of you to keep me going. It still smells like cherry wine - did you already know that it’s my favourite?

“Silly man.” You let out a small laugh. He was speaking as if he’d been gone for years, rather than mere days.

I can’t wait to return to you. If we’re lucky, we won’t linger here for much longer.

And once I’m back, you’ll never be rid of me again.

Love you always,

Sylus

You stared at the letter for a long time, feeling yourself become emotional again as the memory of his departure came flooding back. You wiped a stray tear with your sleeve, then folded the letter carefully and pressed it to your chest. Erin gazed down at her hands in silence, not wanting to intrude.

“I need to write to him.” You blurted out as you rose suddenly from your seat, making Erin scramble up after you. “Please make sure no messenger leaves yet.”

You looked over your finished letter one last time. Your desk was littered with bunched-up papers, all discarded for various reasons. Your handwriting wasn’t pretty enough. You misspelt a word in your excitement. You changed your mind and scribbled a few words out, then started all over again.

Noticing your bottle of perfume on your vanity, you remembered Sylus’s words.

…did you already know that it’s my favourite?

Chewing on your lip, you grabbed the bottle and spritzed your finished letter, the familiar scent of cherry and spices filling the air. Then you folded it carefully and stuffed it in an envelope. Placing the letter down, you began to write his name.

His Royal Highness Prince Sylus of Onychinus

You stared at the words as the ink dried. His full name and title still felt unreal.

Pulling your desk drawer open, you took your personal seal and inspected it. You’d received a seal of your own when you had turned thirteen, and despite its age, it still looked pristine. You rarely ever found use for it. You dripped some hot wax onto the envelope and pressed your stamp in, leaving a seal in the form of a rising sun with a blooming rose beneath.

Once you’d handed your letter to a guard, you threw yourself onto your bed, giddy with excitement. You pulled Sylus’s letter from your bedside drawer and read it again. Even his handwriting was so distinctly his. It looked a little rushed, too. You could almost see him scribbling it in some dimly lit inn room. If this had been an official military campaign, they would have travelled with their own great tents, proper beds, and all the comforts befitting princes. This mission afforded no such luxuries. You wondered whether Sebastian grumbled about it. You couldn’t imagine Sylus complaining about the lack of comforts. He always took things in stride, and if he did complain, it was usually only to make you laugh.

You hugged the letter to your chest, imagining the look on his face when he read yours. You wondered whether he was waiting for your reply, or if he was too focused on his task.

Gripping the letter tighter, you shook your head.