Iskra coughed into her hand, trying to hide her laugh. Kryth was only a few years older than her—at least, that was what he claimed—but one couldn’t tell from his appearance. His hair was currently gray, his brown eyes had crinkles around them, and his hands were wrinkled with sunspots. He had purposefully aged himself to play the role of this shop’s owner. She knew when he played the minister, he turned the gray silver, the brown eyes glacier blue, and his skin stretched back to a youthful glow.
“My relationship to her is not your concern.” Kryth crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair. He was growing more exasperated with every passing second of this conversation.
Iskra's eyes bounced between them, curious to hear this important woman’s plan for her.
“Perhaps we should start with who exactly she is,” Bron said from his spot on the opposite wall from Iskra. “How in the gods’ names do you look identical to Esi?”
“Except for the hair.” Esi twirled the ends of hers. “Mine is much prettier.”
Iskra looked to Kryth for guidance. He grunted, waving away the question. “I have no idea. Perhaps she is a bastard daughter of one of your parents. Perhaps the gods like to toy with us for fun. I do not care. I do, however, care for why you want to use her.”
“Right.” Esi crossed her hands on the table, poised and proper, ready to state her case. “I’m Lady Esi, and this is my guard, Bron.” She gestured to the stoic man behind her. “I’m from the northern region of the Sun Court, and I’m to be wedded to Prince Jasyn.”
“The Sun Court Prince,” Kryth said through his teeth.
“The one and only, now that the eldest son is dead.”
“Why would they marry him off before he has proved himself in the Undertaking?”
“To restore confidence,” Esi explained. “The royals have a singular heir left before their legacy is ruined. If Jasyn fails—if he doesn’t get the Heart or dies—their line will die out. King Aleks is no longer able to compete after last year’s Undertaking left him in a wheelchair.”
“Then I ask again: what does Iskra have to do with any of this?”
Esi sighed, looking into her lap. “I have only a few weeks left of freedom before our marriage. I want to spend it with…someone who means something to me. I can’t do that if I’m stuck in that glass castle.”
Two
The asymmetrical, slate stone floors bit into Jasyn’s feet as he jogged down the long hall. His hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. His morning in the sun left him no time to get properly dressed, and he knew it was going to displease his parents. After all, he was minutes away from meeting his future wife.
“Sometimes, I dread the day I’ll have to call you king,” Mych’s teasing voice echoed from his station at the door.
Jasyn slowed, his breathing evening out with each step.
“Are they in there?”
Mych smiled, his crooked teeth showing. It made the brass armor and sword at his hip less intimidating, though Mych had never been able to embody what was expected from a guard. He was too soft-hearted and flirtatious for that. It was the reason he was the only person Jasyn talked to outside the royal family. Well…only his parents now. Both his older brother and sister were dead—Jaymes and Dahlia were only memories, ones he held tightly.
“Everyone is waiting for you,” Mych said as he stepped up to Jasyn, fixing the buttons Jasyn hadn’t lined up properly in his rush. Jasyn’s face heated at his disheveled appearance.
Once Mych made Jasyn look somewhat presentable, Jasyn rolled his sore shoulders back and opened the door before he had anyone waiting any longer. It was embarrassing enough that he was late.
Mych patted him on the shoulder, a gesture of comfort as all eyes turned toward Jasyn.
Sunlight gilded the room, blinding until Jasyn blinked. Each corner was covered in greenery; in order to reach the dais where his parents sat on their thrones, he had to walk on stepping stones through a rectangular pond, where the water sprouted lily pads floating on top.
His parents gave him a reproachful glare as he reached them. They were both dressed in their best finery. His mother’s long yellow dress accentuated her dark skin, and gold jewelry oozed off her neck, ears, and wrists. His father, seated on his throne instead of in his wheelchair, wore freshly pressed slacks and a purple shirt he favored for important occasions. Of all the royal children, Jasyn and his father looked the most similar, from their golden brown skin to their green eyes.
Both his parents had crowns planted on their heads.
“Were shoes too difficult to find?” were his mother’s first words to him.
Jasyn’s face flamed even hotter. He peered down at his bare feet, and his father chuckled.
“Let’s hope your betrothed doesn’t mind someone who spends more time with plants than people,” his father joked.
Jasyn grunted, but he climbed up the few steps and bent to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
“If she even likes me enough to stay,” Jasyn cautioned.
