One
Eight winters ago...
Alwin
Once upon a time, in a kingdom not his own, a young prince sat in his carriage, deep in thought as the road still untraveled stretched before him.
He rolled a small golden ball around in his palm with his fingers, twisting it without thought as his other arm rested against the carriage window.
A toy, lavish as it was. It had grown worn with use, its shine slightly dulled and the engraving on it all but faded away. Alwin couldn’t remember what it had said in the first place, he onlyknew that having it within his grasp brought him comfort. Its golden luster drew on a memory of a different hand wrapped around it. A child holding it up proudly, showing it to Alwin, inviting him to play in a gentle, kind voice as the sun glistened on a head of golden hair.
That warmth was needed in a place such as this.
The forest of Falchovari wasn’t known for its kindness. Surrounded on all sides by thick, looming trees, the sight of the sky above was a rare, dappled glimmer. There were tales of worse things than wolves that set upon the unsuspecting travelers who ventured forth, especially for those who strayed from the main paths along bumpy side roads close to the Dark Forest.
“Your Royal Highness!” his coachman called over the heavy sound of hooves and rolling wood. “Farwin is signaling in the distance. He’s scouted something to the west!”
Alwin’s heart lifted and he leaned out of the window to spot Jurgen, the captain of his guard. The older man spurred his horse to trot closer, the huge black steed snorting and tossing its head. The horses had been unsettled ever since they’d left the main road.
“We should be careful approaching. It could be anything, Your Highness,” Jurgen grumbled.
“I’m sick of the sight of trees, old friend. We’ve been traveling in circles for days now without any sign of a village or a local to ask for directions. We can’t even find the way back,” Alwin said. It was like the trees themselves had formed a wall behind them, twisting and moving, even though he was sure that was just his imagination. “At the very least this will give us a landmark.”
“I know you’re worried about your brother, but my job is to ensureyoursafety.” Jurgen ran a gloved hand over his outgrown grey beard in agitation, before shaking his head and looking around them with a keen, suspicious eye. “I should have neverlet us leave the main road. We should have waited for it to be cleared or turned back to the castle.”
“The decision was not yours. Don’t burden yourself with troubles that aren’t your own.” Alwin smiled to lighten the mood. “You aren’t as young as you used to be to carry them.”
Jurgen snorted. “A fine jest coming from the boy who used to drop his sword at the slightest breeze.”
Alwin rolled his eyes. “Will you never let that go?”
“Hallin is a windy kingdom, Your Highness. I’m simply doing my duty to make sure its heir knows how to defend himself. Especially when you insist on switching jobs with the coachman and guards.”
Any humor was quickly swept away as a distant call of…something…echoed through the trees. Jurgen sat up straighter and the horses whinnied, everyone doing their best to soothe them.
Alwin set his jaw. “We’ll see what Farwin found. Anything is better than this, and we all deserve a rest.”
Jurgen could do nothing to argue with the order, so he nodded, urging his horse to the head of the party.
Alwin sat back in his seat, uncomfortable but helpless to do anything about it, much less let it show and scare his men—some of whom were growing as skittish as the mounts they rode upon, tossing their heads with wide eyes at the snap of every branch, a second from bolting.
The letter from his brother was burning a hole against his heart; the troubled bid calling him home as fast as his horses could carry him.
Alwin had needed to read no more than that simple request before he had said his goodbyes to Queen Schön, cutting his official visit short. It had weighted his decision to venture off the paths and not wait, Lorenz’s words running on a loop through his head.
Trouble at home. Please come, Brother. I need your help.
These days spent lost had tripled his anxiety, leaving him staring at the canopy above him every night after they’d bedded down, wishing he could fly.
Equal to his role as prince and heir was his role as a big brother. He’d taken one look at Lorenz in the cradle of his mother’s arms and their weight in his heart had shifted and balanced immediately.
Wait for me a little longer, Lorenz, he silently begged.
They rolled on until the waterlogged ground and trees made it impossible to maneuver the carriage.
He caught sight of his worn reflection in the water as they passed. His dark hair was curling over his forehead in sweaty tangles, and only his eyes remained bright, the glowing green a gift from his mother.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!” came the distant, excited call from Farwin at the top of a steep incline, his bright orange hair a beacon in the darkness, the green and gold of Hallin standing out among the trees.
