“I’ll take it!” Sam cried. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. What a wonderful day. You ought to barge in more often, then, Princess.”
“Elías?” I called, but he didn’t appear.
Sam chuckled. “He said he wasn’t coming, remember?”
“Right,” I said.
“Are you ready?” he asked. He offered me his arm. Cordially, I took it, though I felt horrid that Mr. Evergreen should see it happen.
He said, “Enjoy your walk,” calmly.
“You’re sure you don’t wish to come?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I could think of anything else. I’ll see you tomorrow for our ride if you’re still keen on going?”
“I’m keen,” I said.
He bowed.
Sam moved us toward the door. “Let’s explore our garden, shall we?” he asked.
“Ourgarden?” I said.
“Aye. You know, Mr. Evergreen tells me your father gave your mother roses for their wedding night. I think that’s quite the gesture, don’t you?”
“I suppose,” I said.
“I’ll admit, I don’t have any now, but if you might find something to replace, I’m happy to make room for them,” he explained. “In fact, let’s walk the entirety of the gardens and see what you love and hate. I’ll make a list.”
Chapter 10
Four Years Ago
My Dearest Mr. Ólason,
Long are the days since I have seen your face.
My letter, perhaps lifeless, but also the ninetieth orninety-secondof its kind, began.
Your ruleless curls; are they still as yellow as the sun? I pray you are well, that you have found a place in this world, and that you do not hate me too furtively. But... in honesty, my faith grows weary with the day. I feel myself begin to accept Ser Elías’ ideas of ‘duty’ as truth. For love must hold no place in my future—our future—lest Fate herself would have delivered these messages to you by now.
Perhaps she has. Perhaps I am writing to the flame of all my other words as they burn inside your hearth.
So, in the dark comfort of knowing you’ll never see these words, I apologize to you. I acknowledge my biggest failure as your friend, as your Queen. For sins committed long beforemy reign, are still sins committed. I cannot wash them from our history, but I can confess that in my dreams, I try.
I stop Father’s iron from meeting your skin. I pick up a sword, not cower behind an armor-wearing one. I wield the blade as my own, as a Blade myself, and I duel Miss Hellveig, as silly as it sounds. I save you, and then I rise from the fire that marked you. I rise the monarch this empire needs to survive. In my fantasy, I am a thousand shades brighter than His Majesty, and you and I… Well, my prayers do not fall onto the deaf ears of God. I don’t marry a man I don’t know, I don’t fear living in a land that isn’t mine. And more importantly, I see your face again before I’ve forgotten it. Despite my best intentions, it fades further with every sunset, and I don’t know why. I can’t control it.
How worthless I can be. How incredibly insensitive. Perhaps if I-
A loudsnapcame asMiss Hellveig’s cane struck my hand, reanimating the pain that had long lived faithfully there. I hadn’t seen her come into the dining hall. I hadn’t heard her approach, and the cry I made only egged her to react.
“You must always be aware of those moving against you,” she said. “And pray, what are we working on, Princess? That doesn’t look like your words.”
She leered across the table, eyes dissecting my stationery, and as they narrowed, I raced to conceal the letter. She tried to rip the pages from my hand.
“Give it here.Now, Princess.”
My feet carried me, shoes beating against cold stone, like ice against their tired leather soles. As I fled through the winding halls of the castle, shadows fell from the frames watching fromthe walls. Bleak, moody rays of light crept through the cracks of the century-old stained glass windows, and they danced wildly with winter’s fading hour around the corridor.
