“But what if Lady Irene chaperoned me?” Esther pleaded. “Or you could assign a guard to me!”
“It is not wise for you to leave the castle,” Lupin said, his voice stern.
“I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Being careful is not the issue.”
“But—”
Esther’s father slammed his cup down, stifling her words. The rest of the meal passed in silence.
Finally, Esther set down her fork. “I should get ready for lessons.”
Both men immediately pushed their chairs back and stood. Lupin nearly knocked over his water but managed to catch it at the last second. Her father smoothed his coat, even though it hadn’t shifted at all.
“Have a good day,” he said, his voice formal once more.
Lupin nodded quickly. “Give Sir Basil my regards.”
Esther offered a small smile that felt too thin. “I will. Thank you.”
Valedara Castle had been built in three distinct eras, each visible in the walls if one knew where to look. The east wing bore the soft curves and floral motifs of Queen Elaerya’s reign, warm, inviting architecture that suggested the ruler had been fond of music, art, and throwing far too many festivals. The west wing, by contrast, was sharp-edged and reinforced, built by King Thamar the Ironhearted during a century of border conflict. Thick walls. Narrow windows. Everything about it whispered: survive first, celebrate later.
Esther preferred Elaerya’s wing.
Her father’s council, however, had been meeting more frequently in the fortified rooms of the west wing, and the shift had not gone unnoticed. Guards stood taller. Servants whispered.
Even the air carried a tension it hadn’t held during her childhood, when she remembered, perhaps imagined, the palace smelling more of lavender cakes and fresh parchment than metal polish.
The irony was that Valedara was known across the continent as “The Gentle Kingdom.”
Yet inside its marble walls, the gentleness had been slowly suffocating for years.
When she was out of earshot, she let out a loud, frustrated sigh.
As she walked, her gaze drifted to the long corridor of royal portraits lining the wall. Decades of rulers stared back at her, beginning with King Lexon, founder of Valedara. The line of kings and queens continued in steady succession until it reached the final frame: her parents, painted in rich oils, frozen in a moment she barely remembered. Beside them hung a space, waiting patiently, almost expectantly, for the next monarch.
Every kingdom chose heirs differently, but in Valedara, she could have been queen. The law allowed it. Tradition welcomed it. But she had no desire to fight Lupin for the role.
He was steady, dutiful, everything a ruler should be.
And she…
She had nothing to offer.
She tore her eyes away and continued down the pristine corridor, feeling more like an intruder than a princess.
She wished she were a princess locked in a tower. Then maybe she’d be whisked away by a knight with wind-tossed hair and eyes full of adventure. But this wasn’t a tower guarded by a dragon. It was a fortress guarded by men whose armor clinked like chains.
Her father called it “protection.”
Esther called it “house arrest with snacks.”
Even the snacks were more decorative than edible, bittersweet, cold pastries dusted with sugar she could barely taste, because Baroness Irene Levon’s voice still echoed in her head: “Watch your figure, Princess.”
She would never forget the lecture she received when she asked why she had to watch her figure when they were going to crush her ribcage with a corset regardless.
She was currently trudging toward the best of her least favorite lessons.
