Alora frowned at her teasingly. “Do you not like this man? Is he ugly and unbecoming? I must know.”
“Stop it,” Theia swatted her, but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Go on and wash up. I was sent to help you dress for dinner. Your father is waiting for you in the dining hall.”
“Don’t think I will let this go,” Alora laughed as her friend pushed her toward the washroom. “You’re deflecting.”
“Says she who is stalling. We both know you don’t want to go down there.”
Alora paused on the threshold of the washroom, her smile fading. “I…don’t know what he wants to say …but why do I feel it will be worse than sending me away?”
Theia fell quiet behind her and Alora knew she was right.
“Well, if I am to suffer through it then you simply must tell me about this mysterious man you’re to suffer to marry.”
Theia groaned and rubbed her temples. “The Seven spare me.”
Alora cracked a smile. “Is he that awful?”
“No, he’s… wonderful.” Their sighed. “But it’s certainly no love match. I don’t even know what love is or if I even care to. I never wanted to get married. I dreamed of going on adventures and … writing about them.”
Alora smile faded at the sadness in her friends’ eyes and took her hand. “Oh, my sweet dreamer.”
Taking a deep breath, Theia rolled her eyes as if her feelings on the matter were foolish. “How unfortunate that we were born women, with little power over our fate.”
The statement stirred unease in Alora’s chest.
With glaring clarity, she realized that was true. She had little control over anything
Then Theia called in the new ladies-in-waiting.
They helped strip off Alora’s old peasant dress, promptly tossing it into the hearth. She was ushered into the waiting bath full of soap suds and sweet-smelling oils. While they washed her hair then helped her into a silken blue gown, Alora contemplated how her life would change now.
She stared at herself in the mirror, a tiara now sitting on her head. The fine fabric felt strange and heavy on her skin. She hadn’t been a princess for a long time. The title didn’t seem to fit her anymore.
It was suffocating and the urge to wish for escape tangled in her chest.
Alora glanced at the windows. Twilight had arrived, painting the sky in hues of pink and purple. In the distance rose a veiled peak.
“Do you remember the song about the shadow in the mountains?” she murmured.
Theia blinked at her and chuckled nervously. She sent away her ladies and picked up a hairbrush made of ivory with soft bristles. Taking locks of Alora’s golden-brown hair, she gently ran the brush through it. “That’s merely a superstitious tale to keep the foolish from wandering too far. Odd that you should bring that up now.”
It was odd, but Alora couldn’t get the song out of her head. “I had been curious about it recently. I remember you were a keen one for reading of tales both of history and folklore. What do you know of Karag Dûr?”
“Well, legendsclaim the mountain was once a sanctuary for fallen gods,” Theia smiled, letting her voice lower to a mysterious pitch. “Some say a gate into the realm of shadows lies beneath the mountain’s root, a one-way door to the underworld. And that he who roams there is but a shadowless form, devouring all those who dare to draw near. The song is meant towarn most to stay away from the slopes of Karag Dûr, or perhaps to lure those curious enough to venture into the dark.”
A tremor curled down Alora’s spine. She forced a laugh. “You must find these ridiculous tales enthralling.”
Theia pinned up Alora’s hair, fastening it in place with the jeweled headpiece Lady Zinnia had gifted her. “What are stories if not enthralling tales woven from dreams?”
The grand dining hall was quiet.
The vaulted ceiling loomed high above, ribbed with aged beams carved to resemble curling vines. Faded murals stretched across the walls displaying glories of Argyle’s past, their gilded edges dulled by time. Tall, narrow windows framed the dying sunset, casting amber light across the long table that stretched nearly the length of the chamber.
And was only set for two.
“Daughter,” King Laurent greeted her softly. He motioned for her to come forward. “Come join me.”
Alora sat across from him, close to the hearth. The fire crackled gently, throwing flickers of embers across the flagstone floor. Shadows clung to the far corners of the room, as if they were silent observers of a reunion long overdue.
