I don’t realize how hard I’m crying until hot tears streak down my cheeks, falling onto the grass. I allow myself to breakfor a few more minutes before forcing the grief back down, standing, and brushing off my dress. Dinner awaits. I’ll be glad when these cursed nightly meals are finished.
I pull my shadows close as I walk back through the gardens. My steps falter when I reach the fountain. Memories hit me like a blade. The fury burning in Koen’s eyes, the way he stepped into the dagger’s path without hesitation, the raw power thrumming through him when he struck Osric. How the glow of his magic lit his body and—gods help me—how devastatinglybeautifulhe looked in that moment.
My heart stutters, and I shove the thoughts away as I head to the dining hall.
By the time I enter the palace, the sun is setting, gilding the halls in gold. The guards bow and push open the doors to the great hall. As always, the men rise when I step inside. Four pairs of eyes follow me as I walk to the head of the table. I sit. They follow.
“Good evening, Princess,” Lioran greets me with his easy grin.
“Evening, Lioran.” I force a smile, praying it looks real.
I turn to the others. “Asbel. Aren.” A pause, then softer, “…Koen.” The same smile is plastered on my lips.
Asbel bows his head slightly. “Princess.”
Aren offers a polite, “Good evening.”
Koen only nods before reaching for his wine. His silence is unusual, but I say nothing.
The first course is served, the smell of roasted pheasant and herbs filling the air.
“So,” Lioran begins, “word has it you startled the newkitchen staff this morning, Princess. Walkedin unannounced, I’m told.”
I spear a carrot with my fork. “Is that what passes for gossip now?”
“Just merely the tale of a poor cook who nearly keeled over when she saw you.” His grin is unrepentant.
Asbel chuckles quietly. Even Aren smiles.
“I wanted tea,” I say simply, taking a sip of wine.
“Ah, but royalty fetching their own tea? A scandal,” Lioran replies with mock gravity.
I shake my head, fighting a smirk. “I think she’ll survive the shock of my presence.”
Conversation flows more easily after that. Lioran tells a dramatic story about nearly falling into Lake Ilareth on his way here. Aren admits, reluctantly, to being hopeless at archery as a boy. Even Asbel joins in, sharing a tale of training mishaps that earns laughter from the others.
Only Koen stays quiet. He listens, eyes shadowed, his movements measured. He eats steadily, drinks sparingly, and never once joins the conversation. I catch myself glancing at him more than once, trying to figure out why he’s distant.
When the plates are cleared and the meal ends, I slip away. Instead of going to my chambers to sleep, I change, throw on a cloak, and leave through the door. Most times, I will sneak out from the balcony. However, tonight it’s Torin’s turn to stand guard at my chambers, and he always abandons that post. Convenient for me. As long as I’m careful, no guard will stop me.
I tug my hood lower over my brow, my footsteps softagainst the stone as I slip through a rarely used side corridor. The guards are changing shifts. I made sure to time it perfectly. All I need is ten minutes to reach the lower gate, and then I can disappear into the city for a little while. I need to get away from the palace and the people in it. I needair. Space. Quiet...and sweets.
I’m nearly to the lower gate when a voice behind me nearly makes me jump.
“Your Highness.”
I turn, my hand brushing the hilt of my dagger, but relax when I see Lioran leaning casually against a tree in a white tunic and black pants, arms crossed, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“Are you sneaking out of your own palace?” he asks, clearly amused.
I sigh and narrow my eyes. “Are you following me?”
He lifts a brow. “Would you be flattered or alarmed if I said yes?”
I study him. It might be fun to bring him. He actually treats me like a person. A person he delights in annoying, but a person nonetheless.
So I grin and ask, “Do you like chocolate?”
