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I tore my view from her masked and hooded profile to stare out over the ocean, trying to see not only with my eyes, but with my soul. For the first time, I looked at the water, not thinking about weather patterns and trade agreements. I didn’t think about the time it would take for invading countries to reach our shores, or the business troubles of local fishermen. No, this time, when I looked toward the night covered horizon, it represented the world.

“That sounds…poetic.” I tried masking my critical assessment in a compliment.

Ella cocked her head to the side. “But?”

Apparently I hadn’t masked it well enough. “But…it sounds so…uncertain. Something about that seems, I don’t know, almost terrifying,” I admitted. My position never let me consider letting the world run its course. There was always something to fix, some hypothetical to plan for. The idea of letting go, being swept away by the current and tossed onto unknown shores of life left too much room for danger. A skilled captain can navigate any harsh waters, and that’s what I’d been raised to do, what I’d been trained for.

“I think it’s the uncertainty that makes life beautiful,” she merely stated, returning her gaze to the grand ocean. “Even in the uncertainty, there’s always hope.”

“A wise man doesn’t rely on hope,” I regurgitated the words my father scorned me with as a child, somewhat taken aback that it’d become my own belief. It came out harsher than I intended, yet still sounded distant.

She simply shrugged, not caring that I didn’t agree. That display of irreverence did something to me. I’d come to expect unabashed agreement to whatever I’d say, responses full of, “yes indeed, Your Highness”, or, “of course, very insightful, Your Grace”.

The woman before me held no care about bolstering my ego or playing the nefarious socio-political game. She was real, and raw, and honest.

“Hope is what gets me out of bed in the morning. Hope that I can do something worth a damn about stopping these kidnappings. Don’t you hope for that as well?” She adjusted to face me.

She wouldn’t know how plagued I’d been over this situation. How I’d spent months looking into it, to no avail. “I like to think I’ve matured past hope. That’s why I’m here. To do it myself.”

“Call it what you will. Hope, determination, resolve. Whatever it is that’s inside you that’s calling you to put an end to it all.” She pointed her gloved index finger, jabbing it toward my heart. “I’m glad it’s brought you here.”

I stared back at her. Everything else faded away—titles, disgruntled citizens, an array of shortcomings so vast they’d probably fill the ocean—leaving just her and I on this cold, grassy hillside motivated to make a change.

She took a steadying breath. “Earlier, you said I was the only one you could trust. I want you to know that you can, even when I keep secrets from you. Even when I don’t share facts about myself. This is the real me, Chol. A girl from this shabby town, tired of being under everyone else’s boot. A girl who is willing to take on this fight because I believe saving just one person will make my life mean something. A girl who sat on this very grass as a child, looking out over an ocean of possibilities.”

Her declaration kind of took me by surprise, but her blatant honesty only strengthened the trust I had in her. I didn’t need to know anything else about her, though I found myself wanting to. She’d impressed me from the moment we’d squared up in that backyard a few blocks away, and even more so now that I could feel the way she cared. The way she devoted herself to helping her people, to making a difference no matter the personal cost, a trait I’d been hard-pressed to find among the throng of leaders I’d met in my lifetime.

“I’ll put my trust in you, if you put your trust in me.” I knew the gravity of that statement, but she didn’t.

Her gaze snapped to mine, and I sensed her apprehension. Whatever she’d been through in her life taught her to be independent. A mask and hood couldn’t hide that fact. My heart picked up its pace, suddenly finding myself worried that she’d pull back. I’d begun this journey on my own, and could easily resume it that way. Though I hoped she’d stay with me.

I held out my hand between us—an offering. Just like that night on the beach.

The hollow wind picked up, wrapping around us as if the elements themselves wanted us to come together. A strand of her dark hair swayed in the breeze. It represented her vulnerability, a part of her that wasn’t covered, that fell to the mercy of the wind, of life itself, of uncertainty.

My heart roared with the promise to protect her at all costs as she gave me the most meaningful handshake of my life.

“How’s the distribution of support funds to South Harbor?” I asked Ricks as the early morning sun blazed through the windows in my office.

“Nothing has changed since the last assessment, Your Highness. Although, I was wondering if we should revisit the cost breakdown from the Crown’s reserves, only for the next couple weeks. The castle, as you well know, has required rampant production for food, cosmetics, and dress for the staff. That is to say nothing of what will be used for the royal wedding once the events conclude.” He bounced, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back. His merriment over the entire charade made me question if he should have gone into party planning rather than royal advising.

“No.” I cut down his proposal, my answer sharp as a blade.

He stilled. “Sire, if you’re worried about depletion, I can assure you—”

“Depletion is not my concern. My concern is for the poor in my kingdom. I have doubts my people are being cared for in the way I had previously assumed. Send someone to get a count of the number of homeless and hungry and report back by day’s end. Based on that number, we’ll remunerate.”

“As you wish.” He bowed his head, but came back up with deeper creases running over his time-worn face. “May I ask what indicators you’ve reviewed that have called this into question? During my reports, I have failed to see any indication of what you’re referring. Not that I am doubting Your Grace’s judgment, of course, I only wish to learn what I’ve missed.”

His hair fell in limp, silver strands, a reminder of the time he’d given to the castle. Surely in all his years of devotion, he hadn’t heard of a royal sneaking out into the night, searching out illusive dangers. Besides the fact that his poor, old heart might fail from the shock, it wasn’t just my movements that could be put at risk. If anyone knew my actions, if they’d somehow discovered what I got up to when the world should be sleeping, it would put a spotlight on Ella.

“You’re dismissed for now, Ricks. Oh, and I want no one hearing of this. Discretion.” My brow raised.

He bent at the waist again. “Discretion, Your Highness.” The sounds of his shoes scuffing across the stone floor faded as he left the room, leaving me to stew in the kingdom’s affairs.

Guards closed down the docks, Ella had said. That wasn’t an order I’d been aware of, and it nagged at me. I set out to find Druller, to see what he knew, when I spotted Marco chatting with a couple of men in the grand hall. I hadn’t checked in with him in a couple days.

Acting every part the steadfast prince, I walked toward them, my steps light and unhurried. Marco twisted to greet me, chewing on his thumb before wrapping his hold around himself. Ever the cool, calm, and unbothered heir. “Ah, my favorite cousin. I’ve been hoping to catch up with you. Gentlemen.” He nodded to the men I didn’t recognize.