The air smells different here, salty from the sea, and cold. I’ve never seen the ocean, but even that novelty leaves me feeling bitterly homesick. My new coat keeps me warm enough, but it doesn’t stamp out the ache deep inside. Lately I’ve seen the inside of a carriage more than I’ve seen the world.
I didn’t know that pretending to be in love with the prince and watching him pretend to be in love with me would make me feel even lonelier. I didn’t know how hard it would be to live a lie.
Is it a lie, though? I turn Marcus’s words over and over in my head.He’s not like this with any woman.I can also tell when he’s truly happy.
The prince, happy with me? I’m not sure what to think.
We settle into yet another inn, and after a cold meal of cheese and bread, I go up to the room I’ll share with Lydia. This time tomorrow, we’ll be in Loegria. Before these few weeks, I’d never even traveled beyond Evandale, and now I’m going to see a whole different kingdom.Dietan’skingdom. I’m nervous. It’s one thing for the villages all around Alarice to welcome me as their future princess; it’s another to pretend to be a princess in his actual kingdom. Loegria is rich and cosmopolitan. Surely, the court will not be pleased he’s chosen a lowly barmaid.
Midnight. I can’t sleep, with my thoughts all jumbled up, so I decide to take a walk. With an early start scheduled for the morning, it might be my only chance to see the town and feel the ocean breeze on my face, even if only in the dark.
Under Marcus’s orders, the guards have been especially vigilant of late, accompanying me and Dietan absolutely everywhere, so I swap my fancy coat for Lydia’s plain wool one. I move carefully so I don’t wake her, shifting my weight without disturbing the mattress just as I did when my sisters were little and slept on either side of me. I turn the doorknob carefully and put on my shoes only once I’m outside the room. There’s a guard at the end of the hallway, and his partner is probably at the bottom of the stairs, so I head in the other direction, down the hidden service stairs that lead directly to the kitchen.
It’s the first time I’ve been alone since I first agreed to accompany Dietan on this journey, and the solitude is a welcome balm. With my hood up, I look just like any other traveler passing through. I don’t have to worry about being recognized because the streets are mostly empty. I wander through the buildings, the glow and laughter from nearby taverns pouring out onto the streets—like evenings at the Beak. As I crisscross my way through town, I don’t see a single other soul except for a lone cat that comes trotting out of the darkness to weave between my legs. I scratch it behind the ears before it bounds away. As I arrive at the sandy dunes of the shore, the cold sea breeze hits my face, invigorating me. The night is calm, and without the moon, only a curtain of stars overhead reflects off the dark water. When the sunrise begins to peak above the blue horizon, I return to the inn before anyone notices I’m gone.
I slip off my shoes before entering the room. But I pause as I step through the doorway, my hand on the doorknob. There’s a chill in the air that wasn’t there before. The room is dark, but it feels different from when I left. There’s a sound from the window—the curtain, rustling in the breeze—while the rest of the room is eerily still, setting me on edge.
Something’s wrong.
I run to light a candle and gasp at the scene.
The bed is empty; sheets and blankets pool on the floor. A picture frame on the wall has been knocked askew, its glass broken. A chair lies on its side, one of its legs broken. My coat lies rumpled on the floor. The curtain is half-torn from its hooks, billowing like a ghost in the open window.
I run over to Dietan’s adjoining room and don’t bother knocking. I fling the door open—his bed is empty as well.
Oh dear goddess. Ice-cold dread washes over me. I bound down the stairs of the inn, shouting. One by one, Dietan’s men poke their heads out from the other rooms, confused but alert. When I make it to the tavern on the ground floor of the inn, Marcus is there, sword already in hand.
“Aren, what’s wrong?” Marcus asks.
“Where’s Dietan?” I cry, fearing the worst.Did the Kilandrar get him?I can already see his pale, lifeless face frozen in a scream, blue lips that will never feel warm again. A shudder racks me, terror tightening in my chest like a vice. My breaths are coming too fast, too shallow, as if the air itself is turning to stone in my lungs.
From behind comes a familiar baritone. “I’m here! Aren?”
At the sound of his voice, a wave of relief crashes over me. My chest heaves as the crushing weight of fear lifts, leaving me lightheaded with the sheer, desperate gratitude that he’s here—that he’s alive.
Dietan comes through the front doors of the inn, having just been from outside. He is unhurt but tired. He likely didn’t go to bed at all, either.
I run toward him before my mind can tell me to stop. I throw my arms around him in a wave of relief. He stiffens, surprised, but then his body begins to melt into mine as he wraps his arms around me in return. He releases me and braces his hands on the outside of my arms, studying me with intense worry.
His face is tight, concern pinching his features. “What’s the matter? You’re shaking.”
My relief is short-lived when I remember why I ran downstairs in the first place. “Lydia. She’s gone! She’s—”
Dietan doesn’t wait for me to finish. He pushes past the crowd drawn by my screams and bounds up the stairs to see for himself. I run after him as Marcus starts yelling orders to his men.
Inside the room, Dietan grows preternaturally still. His eyes are focused, narrowed to slits as he takes in the scene. He barely moves a muscle, save for the ridgeline of his jaw.
Marcus arrives shortly on our heels. “We’ve secured the perimeter but…” The general looks into the room and curses. “You’re sure she was here?”
“Yes, when I left her, she was right there.” I point to the now-empty bed and the pile of sheets on the floor.
“You left the room?” Dietan asks, rounding toward me, suddenly very angry. “On your own? Without telling anyone?”
“I wanted to take a walk—” I don’t finish my sentence because Dietan starts shouting over me.
“Promise me you’ll never do that again! Not without me or one of the guards!” he yells, his face turning red.
“Dietan, I’m all right,” I say, instinctively putting a hand on his arm to calm him. It’s the first time I’ve called him by his first name. The first time I call him by his name rather than “your worship” or “my lord.”
