I close my eyes against the bright sunlight. “I don’t want anything to do with that. I want to go home.”
“I told you: this is your home now. Accept that.” Her words seem to echo again, despite being outside, and they hit like a boulder crushing my chest—I’m stuck here, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
It should be fine. Ididwant a fresh start after the Academy, after all. But there’s an itch in the back of my mind, something clawing its way out. It flails, then goes still.
“Fine,” I sigh. “What kind of responsibilities?”
Mother smiles, then pulls me along the grassy path. Bushes dotted with every flower imaginable line our way, the earth beneath them rolling with small hills to show off each type.
“I will be sending tutors to educate you in our history and our ways,” she says.
Perfect. More classes. The one misery I thought I’d escaped.
Wait a second…
“What about magic? Can I learn that?” Since being fae is the reason I failed horribly at incanting, maybe that means I can do whatever it is fae do?
Mother pats my arm. “You should have a better understanding of our relationship with the Land before you attempt to wield Her gifts.”
“I guess that makes sense.” My brief spark of excitement peters out as I stop, brushing my fingers on the soft petals of a thorny blue rose.
“Unfortunately, there is another item to discuss that may be difficult for you.”
I straighten, my ribs cramping in warning. “What’s that?”
She folds her hands together. “In order to return, I needed to form an alliance. With King Dryfid of Ystyr, to be precise.”
“Ystyr is…?”
“The southern realm. You will need to pay better attention to your studies here than you did among the Fallen.”
“I’ll try.” For once, the pain in my throat almost makes me chuckle.
Mother’s face presses into a frown, but in a blink, a smile releases the tension. “In order to seal the alliance, I agreed to your betrothal to his daughter, Princess Owena Briarwood.”
An avalanche crashes through my gut. “What?”I can’t have heard that right.
“I’ve already begun arrangements for the ceremony. Dryfid and his daughter arrived this morning.” She continues walking, as if that settled things.
“No.” I hurry after her. “You can’t just tell me I’m getting married to someone I’ve never met and expect me to be fine with it.”
She stops so fast I almost collide with her. “I can. This is your responsibility as Prince.”
Tension burns through my limbs, down to my fingers, itching to wrap around her neck. “No. I’m not doing it.” I glance around the garden. If I ran, could I find my way out of here before the guards caught me? Probably not. I need to actually plan an escape to have any chance.
Mother seems to grow taller with her inhale. “What did I tell you? You need to accept your responsibility.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, digging my palms into my skull, as her words echo through my mind. My anger slips away, despite grasping desperately for it.
The burden weighs on me, my shoulders sagging. She rests her hand on my arm, and I shrug her off, but she clamps down firmly.
“Perhaps you’ll feel better once you’ve met her. I’m told she’s quite beautiful.”
I rub my throbbing temples. “You’ve never even met her?”
“She was a child the last time I saw her.”
Which would make her anywhere from two to fifteen years older than me, probably. Not that it matters for fae. I drag my fingers down my face with a groan.
