I narrow my eyes at him. “And if this new prince is more powerful you think I should marry him regardless of my feelings?”
He smiles knowingly at me. “I think if this new prince is more powerful, you may have a reason to follow your feelings, Light of the Sun.”
So my spymaster can tell I do not care for Aurelion. I wonder if the prince himself can tell. I have not been very careful to keep my thoughts masked. He unsettles me too much for that. I must be more cautious until we can see the lay of the land. But surely any suitor must be better than the dragon prince. Was I not just lying in bed the other night wishing for an alternative—any alternative? Well now I have one.
I only hope this is not a case where I must regret what was wished for.
“Have the reception rooms prepared,” I tell Master Solen.
I’m so flustered as I return to my rooms to dress properly that Aurelion takes me off guard. He slides around a corner as silent as the dawn, and heat creeps up my neck when he leans close. “What is this I hear about a new guest?”
I wheel around to stare at him. “I think you must have heard the news as soon as I did. Tell me, what have you heard, since you seem to be so well informed.”
He only grins. “I hear I have competition. But do not fear. I’ll be sure to scare him away for you.” The grin stretches wider until his sharp teeth are obvious.
I clamp down on my retort and force a smile onto my face instead. “How kind. But you’re assuming I won’t be able to scare him off myself.”
He laughs. “I should like to watch you try.”
By this point we have reached the entrance to my rooms. I cannot figure out if Aurelion means he would like to watch me fail and grow frustrated or that he would like to watch me while I scare off his competition. Perhaps both. Perhaps he is just trying—as usual—to get under my skin.
I hate that he always succeeds.
I need to be especially calm and level-headed as I manage this difficult situation. At least Aurelion did not seem angered by the suggestion that he has competition. I know Master Solen was worried about this.
Dressed and ready, I stand outside the royal entrance to the throne room and draw in a slow breath, letting it out and forcing out my nerves along with it. I can do this. I can greet a new prince and keep everyone calm and happy, never showing my true feelings.
I set my chin, step forward, and wait while the servant opens the doors for me. Then I stride through the room to take my place on the throne and lift my hand to signal to the herald to let in our visitor.
The doors open. “Prince Noreth of Emrakai, oh, Light of the Sun.”
A tall handsome man steps forward, dressed in fine silks. Jeweled slippers poke from beneath pure white pants. His smile is bright as a sun flare, white teeth against bronze skin—so familiar. And then it hits me. The prince looks exactly like Kaelun, but it can’t be. My Kaelun was a street thief, a man withno family, living in a disused room above the temple. This man is a foreign prince, with the retinue and wardrobe to prove it.
He strides forward, and I cannot take my eyes from his face. Everything about the way he moves is so exactly what I remember that I’m mesmerized.
He stops in front of the throne, and I wish I could leap from my throne and ask him if he recognizes me too; if it really is the man I remember. But why wouldn’t he have said something? Why, when I tried to tell him who I was, did he refuse to believe it?
“Her Royal Highness, Solha Yalina, Light of the Sun, Blessing of Vathira.”
The bow he gives me is stilted, awkward, unlike the rest of his movements, as if he is unused to bowing. But does that mean he is indeed a prince or truly the vagabond I met on the streets? I can’t decide.
A tall, well-built man with pale skin and long white hair steps forward carrying a delicate silver box. I have never seen anyone so young with such pure white hair before. That and the man’s handsome features and regal bearing distract my attention for a moment, and I stare as he holds out the box. “Prince Noreth wishes you to have this gift, oh, Light of the Sun. A little gesture of his regard for your beauty.” When he speaks his accent is impossible to place.
The prince says nothing.
A servant hurries over and takes the box from the servant, carrying it up to me. I open it carefully and find it filled with tiny sweets—candied rose petals, soft sweet dumplings, and intricate molded sugar animals. It is him! And he does remember. He remembers my sweet tooth. This is a sign. I’m desperate to know the true story, but it’s impossible to ask him here.
“Thank you.” I want to say more, give him some indication I know who he is, but I cannot think of how to do that with everyone watching us.
At last the prince speaks. “I know my visit must be a surprise. It seems my messengers were lost on the journey. I myself was… waylaid by a sandstorm and lost much of my… retinue.”
It is him! It must be, even his voice sounds the same. But his words are so stilted, as if he is carefully choosing every one.
I do not know what to say. Finally I settle on something equally as stilted. “Well, it was so good of you to travel all this way to bring me this little gift. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“To a desire to know you better, oh, Light of the Sun.”
My heart skips inside my chest. This is exactly what I wished for. A chance to choose for myself. To choose the man I want.
