His ocean eyes sparkle, crinkling at the sides. “Yes.”
“You’re early.”
The corner of his full lips quirk up. “Indeed. The god of the sea had mercy on our travels. It’s an honor to finally be in your presence, Princess Carys.”
“The honor is mine.” My words are rehearsed, automatic, but his tone is genuine.
Prince Odgar steps aside, getting out of the way so I can continue my walk, but I don’t move. He isn’t at all like I’d imagined. I’d expected an uncouth brute. The tip of a battle-ax peeks over his shoulder, and it makes me smile. Maybe not an uncouth brute, but he’s armed and without a sentry by his side.
Warrior Prince.
“What brings you out here, Prince Odgar?”
“The fresh air,” he says. He lifts his face into the breeze that blows through the garden. “I hold no love for the indoors.”
“I assume you spend the majority of your days… on the ocean?”
A wistful look crosses his face. “I wish.” He glances toward the sky then turns back to me.
Another low, mellow voice rings out from beyond the bushes, prattling off in rapid Uldaran. The words are as lively as a jaunty bard song. A man with a peachy complexion and a crooked nose steps into view, his thick, dark brows raising. “Apologies,” he says in the common tongue when he spots Callum and me. He’s about Callum’s height, with gentle brown eyes that belie the hard cut of his square jaw. With a bow, he says, “Forgive my insolence, Your Highness; I was admiring the beautiful view of the lake.” His accent is clipped, the vowels spoken with amplified precision.
My brows furrow. “You are not from Uldarvik.”
“We stole Seth from Ardall,” Odgar says with a playful smirk. “Or rather my sister stole his heart and Uldarvik grew on him.”
The man, Seth, has the integrity to appear bashful. I don’t bother to pry more information from either of them. Beside me, Callum’s hard focus doesn’t waver from Odgar. Suddenly, I feel short among these three handsome men towering over me.
I clear my throat. “Well, Prince Odgar. I hope you enjoy your stay at the Fortress on the Mount.”
“Oh, I am certain I will. Thank you for your hospitality. I will see you soon.” He bows once more, as does Seth, then they step around me to head toward the castle.
I stare at their retreating backs, at the axe strapped across Odgar’s and the sword across Seth’s, before they disappear behind the castle doors. Callum is straight-faced and I remain unmoving.
Definitely not what I’d expected. Maybe my suitors won’t be sobad after all.
On the night before the Feast, I rouse from yet another heart-racing nightmare, Aneirin’s name on my lips, my skin and amulet so hot to the touch that I might as well be on fire. I blame my mother triggering my memories of him. It’s ironic since she says she took away my memory, whatever that means.
With my heart hammering, I throw a robe on over my nightgown and hurry out of my bedchamber. I nearly collide with Tiernan, who is on my service tonight so he can rest during the day and be ready to guard me at the Feast.
He turns to me, brows pinched together. “Is something the matter?”
“Everything is the matter.” My voice wavers and I wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “I need a glass of wine.”
He doesn’t question me further, even as his gaze very briefly skims over my attire. He doesn’t approve of me walking around in my sleepwear, but he nods and walks alongside me. Only the sounds of his boots and my bare feet against the floor echo in the corridors. As we walk into the dining hall, it’s not just Eefa there, but also Durvla, sitting across the table from her.
Durvla’s spine straightens when she sees me, but her face is drawn and exhausted. Eefa glances over her shoulder at me, a salacious glint in her gaze.
I avoid her gaze and focus on Durvla, channeling the level-headedness that I lack. “Looks like everybody is in need of wine,” I say with a smirk.
Empty plates sit in front of them.
“Oh, did I miss the cake?” I pout.
“There’s still more,” says Eefa, standing from the table. “Let me grab you a slice and a goblet of wine.”
My stomach is at odds with itself, between the nightmare I cannot remember and the fact that in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be meeting my suitors.
“On second thought, just the wine, please,” I interject.
