And Dane just plans to hand me over.
Something inside me curls up, tight and afraid. I need to stop thinking about this. No one can bethatpowerful. My own father’s magic always seems vast, allowing him to harness the weather and keep Astranza’s fields bountiful and prosperous—a king providing for his people. Rumors about his magnanimous abilities swirl through Astranza, too.
But they’re not all true. Even Father has limits.
The seamstress pokes me again, and I have to suck back a yip. It’s so cold that I’d honestly let them light this dress on fire while I’m wearingit. I hope the pins are drawing blood, because there will be sparks of crimson on the bodice in the morning, and that might be reason to delay the wedding.
Maybe that’s worse. Maybe this vicious king wouldlikespecks of blood on my dress.
I glance at the window again, but there’s nothing. Just the silent moon, taunting me.
My chest tightens. Asher’s duties have taken him far from the capital city in the past, but it’s rare, and he’s never been gone for so long. But if something happened to him, no one would even think to tell me. An assassin from the Hunter’s Guild would never be associated with the prim and proper Princess Marjoriana.
But Asher is my dearest friend. Myonlyfriend.
I glance at the frosted windowpane again. He could be hurt. He could bedead.
The very thought makes my throat go tight, and I have to swallow.
Charlotte reaches out and squeezes my hand, and I blink away tears.
“Maybe he won’t besohorrible,” she murmurs.
She’s still talking about Maddox Kyronan, and she probably thinks I’m overwhelmed with emotion about the proposal. I huff a laugh, because it’s better than letting a tear roll down my cheek. “Every hearth is dark,” I say. “Clearly everyone else expects him to be horrible.”
She frowns and says nothing—which is answer enough.
Charlotte said the king and his retinue are inside our borders, so they must be riding toward the palace right now. I’ve never been to the southern border, so I don’t know how long the journey would be in this weather. Will they be riding through the night? I wonder if Father is allowing the snow to fall to hide the vastness of our fields, or if this is just an example of his power, meant to impress visiting royalty. Maybe both. Incendar might have mountain ranges full of valuable iron ore, but it’s no secret that they’ve been struggling with barren fields for years now—regardless of whether their king is causing it. All the iron in the world won’t feed starving people.
No one here in Astranza ever goes hungry, not with our miles of farmland. Father’s magic brings the perfect balance of sunshine andrain to let our crops and livestock flourish. I’ve heard army generals warn my brother that Maddox Kyronan could one day turn his sights on Astranza—and I wonder if this is part of the reason Dane and my father have sought an alliancenow.
A rap sounds at the door, and before Charlotte can cross the room, it swings wide. My brother strides in without hesitation—without even asking if I’m willing to receive him.
“Marjoriana,” he says crisply. He’s ten years older than I am, with gray threading the hair at his temples, though at thirty-five, his beard is still full and black.
“Dane,” I say, my tone just as cold. “By all means, come in with no regard for whether I’m dressed.”
“I will,” he says, because he refuses to acknowledge sarcasm. He walks past the women, who both hastily curtsy, though he ignores them. He studies the heavy train of delicately beaded fabric that’s carefully draped over a chair behind me, and then his eyes shift to the two dozen pins surrounding my décolletage.
“I expected to find you sleeping,” he says, “but your guards indicated that the dressmaker wasstillat work.”
He sounds upset, and the seamstress flinches. Though honestly, Dane always sounds upset about everything. He’s been that way for as long as I can remember. When I was young, I used to hear whispers that my birth was a blessing, because my mother had had numerous miscarriages, but Dane never saw it that way. He’s always been the crown prince, off learning to hold a sword and ride a horse and rule a country, while I’ve always been the baby princess, sheltered and coddled and kept away from any danger.
He never hated me as a child; he simply didn’t care—especially since there were more important things to worry about. Rumors of attacks from Draegonis had just begun to spread, and Father’s weather magic suddenly had to protect our borders instead of simply providing our people with food. Back then, no one was panicked, especially since Dane was still young. There was still the potential for the crown prince to develop skills with magic, just like Father.
But then he didn’t.
In peacetime, it might not have mattered. But Draegonis sought our fertile farmland—and Incendar’s steel. Attempts to negotiate for peace went unanswered. When the Draegs attacked, they came on strong. They’re the largest country on the continent, and they’d clearly been planning to overwhelm our borders for some time. We were lucky to have Father’s weather magic, because he could call pummeling storms to the border anytime we received word of an invasion.
The Draegs attacked Incendar, too, but they weren’t able to make much progress. Maddox Kyronan’s kingdom might be the smallest, but the mountains of Incendar provide a natural barrier, and weapons forged from Incendrian steel are nearly unbreakable. The king’s army is fierce and violent—to say nothing of his fire magic.
Astranza, by comparison, struggled. We’d never been a warring country, and our people began to worry about what would happen if Draegonis managed to breach our borders—if our king were to fall. My father was kept off the battlefield, his magic protected. When it became clear that Dane didn’t inherit his talents, everyone’s desperate sights turned to me.
I was given tutors and guides, and I spent years trying every sigil, every potion, every rune, waiting for any sign of a gift. It’s known that magic—while rare—runs in families, and when the magic skipped Dane, everyone wascertainit would manifest in me.
I used to sit beside Father, practicing the sigils, always so hopeful when I could generate a flicker of power in the air—then crestfallen when nothing further would manifest. If he wasn’t present, I couldn’t summon so much as a spark.
Mother always sat beside me, her smile gentle and encouraging. “Don’t fret,” she’d say when I got frustrated. “The magic will find you when it’s ready, Jory.”
