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A sour taste filled Jalissa’s mouth. “So the pressure to marry well shifts from me to Ryfon. If I marry a human, it will only place more of a burden on him.”

How could she justify doing that to her nephew? He was a mere ninety years old. Far too young to carry the weight of the kingdom’s expectations.

“He has more than enough time to find someone he loves. He will not have to marry young unless he wishes to do so.” Weylind gave a slight shrug. “I believe our kingdom will change a great deal in the next few decades. By the time Ryfon needs to marry, he will not be as pressured to marry among the court—or even marry an elf—as you feel now.”

Perhaps Weylind was correct. But that did not solve Jalissa’s problem right now. It was one thing to accidentally cause a scandal. But she did not have the courage to purposely set out to do something that would put her under such scrutiny.

“Prince Edmund was merely a…momentary attraction caused by the trauma of those weeks.” Jalissa’s stomach churned, her face growing hot. That was not a lie. He had not been a fling, exactly. But he had been a weakness. Surely if she could choose to fall in love, then she could choose to fall out of love as well. “I will find someone else. An elf. It will merely take some time.”

“Then do not rush, isciena. You do not have to marry now or marry at all.”

Jalissa grimaced at the thought of never marrying. Perhaps it was her desperation and loneliness talking, but the thought of being alone forever terrified her. It was a valid choice to remain unmarried, but it was not one she would willingly choose for herself.

Besides, her options were limited and would only become more so if she waited. No, better to pick her husband now from among the elf nobility before all the good ones were taken.

The furrows in Weylind’s forehead eased, his expression softer than she was used to seeing from her constantly grumpy older brother. “I know you, isciena. Arranged marriages worked for Farrendel and Melantha. Farrendel, after all, was not going to open himself to love until after he was stuck and forced to do so. The same for Melantha. But you want the whole experience of a courtship and a proper proposal and everything that Farrendel and Melantha skipped.”

Brothers could be so annoying when they read her so well. Jalissa sent a glare at Weylind. “I think I preferred you when you were grumpy and harried.”

Weylind did not smile as she expected. Instead, he sighed and shook his head, his black hair flowing across his shoulders. “I failed both Melantha and Farrendel. I need to do far better with you.”

“Does that mean I shall bear the brunt of your hovering from now on?” Jalissa kept her expression neutral. The last thing she wanted was this overbearing brother turning his full attention on her.

“Only if you need my hovering.” A small smile broke across Weylind’s face, and Jalissa found herself smiling in return.

Some of the darkness lifted, at least for a moment. She was not sure she dared reach for love. She did not have that much courage.

But, perhaps, she could allow herself a moment to forget about the pressure and dream about a future that was not as lonely and bleak as it seemed.

Chapter Three

Edmund crept into the darkened room of Gozat Stronghold where Queen Melantha of the trolls lay sleeping.

He shouldn’t approach her. This went against his training and his orders. He was supposed to lurk and watch. Nothing more.

But his feet kept moving forward, steered by that aching part of his heart whispering that Jalissa would want to know her sister was all right.

Jalissa was his weakness yet again. For her, he broke his cover for a second time.

What was a spy supposed to do when he no longer had a job?

Paperwork, apparently.

Prince Edmund of Escarland slumped over his desk deep in the office wing of Winstead Palace. This far away from all the pomp and circumstance, the rooms were filled with basic wooden desks and cabinets of filing drawers. A quiet hum of scratching pencils, shuffling papers, and low voices filled the room designated for use by the Intelligence Office.

A report lay open on the desk in front of him, the words blurring. Reading reports was much less exciting than doing stuff worth reporting.

“Edmund.” General Bloam halted in front of Edmund’s desk and set down another stack of files. “Have you finished going through the reports from Mongalia—I mean, Mongavaria? Still getting used to their new name.”

As were they all.

Edmund blinked up at the general, resisting the urge to sigh. “I’m partially through them. There’s something odd, but I can’t put my finger on it yet.”

General Bloam grimaced. “No kingdom lets themselves be taken over as peacefully as Nevaria has. I don’t care that Mongalia agreed to change the name to reflect combining the kingdoms. I don’t care that a marriage alliance makes the Mongalian princess the sole remaining heir for Nevaria. Something is up. But no one can quite figure out how they are doing it.”

What had once been Mongalia was now expanding to take over the kingdom of Nevaria. The Nevarian king’s wife and only child had been killed in an accident nearly a year ago, and a few months ago he had died in his sleep, still a relatively young man. His only sibling had been a sister, who had married the Mongalian crown prince. She was now dead, and her widower was the fifty-year-old prince who had wanted to marry Essie, even though Essie was nearly the same age as his daughter.

That daughter, thanks to her mother, was now the heir to the crowns of both Mongalia and Nevaria. Instead of waiting to combine later, the two kingdoms had made the decision it was better to combine now.