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Mara shivered against the cool breeze. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay out here long, but just breathing in the crisp air gave her some semblance of reprieve from the domineering Great Hall. She laughed at herself for already feeling the need to escape. This was going to be a tortuous night.

Sir Orion’s touch lingered on her skin and it made her want to take a scalding bath.

Mara passed two guards as she strolled through the keep’s gardens, their eyes following her closely. She thought back to Sir Orion’s words; he had already been speaking to her father, telling him about his rise to Lord of Branwen. Her father had reassured her she would decide whose hand to accept, but nonetheless, dysphoria coursed through her.

Mara wished she could see Jessamine. Maybe she’d be able to sneak down to the kitchens to see her friend who’d be busy at work. She genuinely considered it, contemplating if upsetting her father by disappearing would be worth it.

The sweet scent of bread wafted out of one of the open doors, the feast beginning. She spent several additional minutes turning about the garden before she was ready to walk back. As she went to approach the castle, she realized how far she had strolled beyond the vision of the sentinels. It was much darker this late, being so far from the candlelight inside.

As she approached closer, she spotted a figure under one of the jutted merlons beside the stationed sentinels. When Mara squinted, she recognized the blonde mop of hair as Sir Orion scanning the gardens for her.

Shit, shit, shit.

The last thing she wanted was to be trapped outside alone with him. It was one thing to be forced to converse with him in a room filled with people, but alone in the dark gardens…

Mara quickly shifted her body behind one of the tall sculpted bushes, hoping he didn’t see her. Her heart raced, booming loudly inside her chest, making her feel ill, her hands tremulous. This was finally becoming real. She was going to be forced to take a suitor and swept away to his residency—a custom of the southern people.

This was real. It was real.

Mara turned, trying to peek out beyond the hedge, and she was faced with a tall lean body. Gods be damned.

“What are you doing all the way out here, little princess?” Sir Orion asked her.

“I needed to step outside for a minute. I told you?—”

“In the night-covered gardens? Alone?” He eyed her, a malicious smirk quipping on the edge of his lips as he cut her off.

Mara had to tilt her head to look up at him, taking a small step backward, her heel sinking into the soft ground.

“It’s not safe out here, who knows what could be lurking in the shadows.”

Mara wanted to sneer but she restrained herself with great difficulty. The only thing lurking in the shadows was him.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were inviting debauchery to your fingertips.”

“I—I…” she stuttered. “I must have wandered too far in the heat of the moment. I just needed to feel a cool breeze. I’ll be sure to meet you back inside, Sir Orion. I thank you for checking on me.”

Mara tried to take a step around him, but he grabbed her arm, forcing hers to lace with his. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Princess. If you wanted to meet me alone, there is no shame in that.”

His cool smile made her body rack with tiny angry sparks, her face contorting into a scowl. What she would give to be able to stomp as hard as she could on his foot right now without the repercussions of assaulting a knight. Though, maybe she could get away with it. He wouldn’t want the shame brought on by admitting to being bested by a little princess .

“Sir Orion, I think?—”

“Princess Maralena,” a sudden voice alerted both of them to the right. “Your brother is asking for you.” The stranger’s words were like decadent honey to her ears. Mara took the man in, instantly recognizing his fair features, but unsure from where. His eyes narrowed in on Sir Orion’s grip. “He asked if I’d escort you myself.” He looked at Sir Orion imperiously. It seemed as though the man knew Sir Orion would immediately insist on taking Mara, but with such authority in his timbre, bluntly spoken and relaying his orders to take her, Sir Orion was sure to concede. It didn’t hurt that the man had an imposing sword strapped to his person.

Sir Orion’s jaw clenched as he looked down at Mara and forced a smile. “Princess,” he muttered, bowing slightly at her, and then making his way back into the castle.

Mara followed the stranger, waiting until they were inside the castle to ask, “What does my brother want, Sir…?”

The man stopped, shifting his gaze to Mara, her figure only up to his shoulder. “ Lord Cofsi. And nothing of value. You just looked like you were in need of saving. In fact, I don’t think I’ve even seen Prince Azor yet tonight.” He gave her a small smile.

“Lord Cofsi,” she said hurriedly, “my apologies, I hadn’t recognized you.”

He held up a hand. “Nonsense. You were just a child last time I was here for the Summer Solstice.”

She remembered Lord Cofsi, as faint as that memory was. He was much younger then, too, probably only just becoming a man. And he lacked the lord honorific—he must have taken his father’s place on the Duskwood throne back in The Shadowed Isles since then, now deemed the Dusk Lord.

He hovered above her, his hands now behind his back. His suit was a silver blue, the buttons sparkling in the candlelight. His ashen-blonde hair was styled back, granting him a sharp and dignified appearance. His face was clean-shaven, lacking any imperfection apart from the faint scar that ran across his cheek. His pale blue eyes were full of warmth, making her feel at ease. She thought him rather limpid for a person of the Dusk Court.

“Well, thank you,” she said demurely. “I’ve felt rather suffocated all night it seems.”

“Of course, Princess. I can only imagine. Well, you look stunning, if it's any consolation.”

Mara blushed.

“I’d love to stay and keep you from your other obligations...” he mused.

“Oh, of course!” She shook her head at her absentmindedness, not wanting to keep him. “Thank you for your assistance. You’ve done me a great kindness.”

“You should get back to the celebration,” he added after Mara stood there silently, clearly not in any rush to retake her spot in the Great Hall.

“I’m just going to stop by the kitchens before I return.”

He nodded in understanding, giving her an impish look. She was rather surprised the Dusk Lord could be so languid about her evasive escapade, though she appreciated it greatly. He gave her a curt bow, his lips turning in a polite grin. Then he uniformly marched off. Mara was glad it was Lord Cofsi who had been the one to rescue her—not that anyone else would have—pleased to know some saw her as worth the effort.

Instead of heading for the kitchens, Mara set off toward the alcove down by the back terrace that wouldn’t be closely guarded. There wasn’t much there, apart from the marbled statue of her mother. Stars , she missed her. Mara tried to picture her mother’s face; her long wavy hair; her round, wide eyes; the soft curve of her nose. Her evocation was a wash of oil paints on a damp canvas starting to bleed together. It had been so long since she’d seen her mother in the flesh, her likeness fading.

Soon, I’ll take my place on the throne of Branwen. And I’ll need a wife.

Sir Orion’s words rang in her head. Mara’s hands came up and combed through her hair, tugging to try and dampen the sound of Sir Orion’s gut-wrenching voice. She wanted her mother. She wanted to collapse into her lap and have her tenderly stroke her head, telling her everything would be just fine.

Someone to give me golden-haired babes. A son to precede me.

The thought of becoming Sir Orion’s wife and giving him children made her body spiral with sickly gooseflesh.

She hadn’t wanted to think about how she was to leave her kingdom, to go live wherever her future husband resided. It was something she had tried to suppress thinking about, but now Sir Orion’s threat lingered in the traces of her mind, reminding her that she would be alone in a foreign land. She’d have to leave the one place that carried her mother’s spirit, her presence still permeating the halls.

Sir Orion’s home resided in the Icewoods, meaning her days there would be far more chill-inducing than in Wrens Reach. At least they saw sunlight and warm days here. In Branwen, the ice and snow were a year-round affair.

Lost in thought, one of Mara’s heels got stuck in the cobblestones, and she tripped, catching herself on her knees, her palms splayed out under her. She heard a crack, her foot falling loose, making her topple forward. She turned behind her, the tip of her heel caught between two stones, completely severed from her shoe.

“What have I done to upset the gods?” she cursed.

Mara’s head hung loosely as she stared down at her hands that just barely held her up. She couldn’t move. Everything that had been bubbling up had finally decided to boil over. Hot tears welled in her eyes, waiting to cascade down her cheeks the moment she blinked. Her vision blurred, the liquid wetting the gray stones beneath her.

This really was it, wasn't it? This was going to be Mara’s fate. She had lived in a fairy tale her whole life, and now she was being threatened off the safe confines of stained parchment, forced to perform her duties, marrying and having babies. That was what was to come of her. She’d become nothing more than breeding stock.

She sat back on her haunches, still not standing, wiping her face roughly with her fingers.

Boots echoing on the stone corridor caught her attention, instinctively making her look up. A large figure approached her. It seemed the figure noticed her at the same time she did, their footsteps halting briefly, surprised, before sauntering closer to her. Mara continued to stare as the sizable man came into view, his face stoic and unreadable.

She raised a brow through her blurry tears, the man appearing to have been coming back from her mother and father’s old wing, exactly where Mara was headed.

“Are you all right?” The deep baritone of his voice startled her.

Mara’s head tilted to follow him as he got within an arm’s length, her eyes encasing the enormous man towering over her contorted one.

“Yes, I…” Her words abandoned her. The man arched his brow, waiting for her to find her tongue. “Where were you coming from?” She didn’t recognize him or his leathers—not that she’d know the face of every Venmore guard, but he didn’t dress the part either.

The man didn’t try to hide the lie in his voice. “Never been inside Venmore Castle before. Lost my way.”

“Lost your way?” she scoffed.

“Do you talk to everyone you meet this disrespectfully?”

Mara pulled back, taken by surprise at his blunt speech. “Only when they’re a stranger in my home, blatantly lying to my face.”

His lips quirked at the side like he was holding back a smile and Mara gritted her teeth. “Apologies,” he said flatly. He stuck out a hand to assist her, and Mara winced, looking at the offering. His eyes narrowed, his presence creating a tense mist in the air; she wasn’t sure any guards were close enough, that if he tried anything, they’d hear her screaming. Perhaps she would have rather been in Sir Orion’s tedious company over that of a stranger.

His hand fell back to his side, grunting as if this was routine and he didn’t care at all but was only being chivalrous because she a lady and he a man.

She was aware her discount was rude, and she opened her mouth to apologize, but she lost balance as she tried to stand, tipping sideways as her foot fell back without its heel to hold her in place. The man swiftly reached out and grabbed her arms in the same spot Sir Orion had gripped her earlier. Except this stranger’s hold felt gentle on her skin, a sharp contrast to his daunting exterior.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing down here instead of galavanting in the Great Hall?”

Mara shoved away from his grip, stumbling but keeping herself upright this time. She wanted to laugh. “I find that’s none of your business, Sir.” Her fingers swept down her dress, smoothing the fabric out.

“No? I’m supposed to allow a rogue princess to resolve to hiding on the ground so far away from the festivities? Away from her guards?”

Mara swallowed, the threat clear in his tone. She pursed her lips. Mara shifted, leaning down to take off her other shoe. “I was avoiding Sir Orion.”

“That blonde prick?” he asked casually, his eyes looking out beyond her, scanning the halls as if Sir Orion might turn a corner and stumble upon them.

She never heard anyone speak of a knight as prominent as Sir Orion like that beyond her friends, especially someone of lower standing. “Are you a knight, too?” she asked him, struggling to hide her smirk, knowing he couldn’t possibly be one.

“Something like that.”

His eyes met hers. The shadows from the flickering sconces illuminated the features of his face. She could see freckles speckled beneath his beard, his eyes dark, almost black. His skin was deep brown, making her think he spent all his time in the sun. His hair a dark umber curly mess, long enough to be pulled back, small strands stuck around his forehead from sweat and others curling behind his ear.

Her eyes drifted down to his large chest, unnerved by his cast on her, his broad shoulders and taut muscles visible beneath his shirt. Mara fisted her two shoes in her hand, realizing she’d have to return to her room to get a new pair.

The man was burning holes through her. Now that she had told him why she was down these abandoned halls, she curiously wanted him to return the gesture. “Are you avoiding someone, too?”

He thought for a brief moment. “Court dramatics don’t particularly interest me.”

It hadn’t occurred to her until right now that he could be a bachelor up for her hand. Suddenly, her cheeks warmed.

Mara scrunched her nose. “Court dramatics?”

“I don’t know half of these lords and ladies, especially not unjustly-arrogant cunts waltzing around like their knighthood admonishes them from upholding any sort of decency.”

Mara’s eyes widened, speaking in disbelief. “Sir Orion?”

“Sure, if that’s what you prefer to call him.” He had a scowl on his face—it suited him. She thought it might be unsettling to see him smile.

“He is wretched, isn’t he?”

“Most of them are.”

“Well, that’s not very encouraging,” she sighed, her mouth tightening into a thin line. He looked at her with a bit of confusion tainting his permanent snarl. “My father insists I choose a suitor tonight. And that it’s one of the noblemen.”

“And that’s the bastard he picked for you?” he asked in disapproval. His voice was sonorous, flustering her while he brazenly spoke.

Mara shook her head, picking at her fingernails. “If they’re all really that awful, I just won’t pick any of them.”

The brooding man sneered, his shirt going taut over his toned chest as it rumbled in mirthless laughter. Mara’s eyes shifted to pinpoints. “What?” he asked her incredulously. “You don’t actually believe you have a choice in all this?”

An unspeakable rage began to settle in Mara’s veins where anxiety once lay. What did he know about her betrothal? Fire circled within her tiny frame, begging to escape. He found it amusing enough for his lips to tick.

Mara all but stomped her foot in a tantrum. “Are you always this distasteful?” she said exasperated, lost for words to curse him out.

His face only grew more sinister. “Not used to being talked to like this, liten rev? ” His accent on his final words slid up her spine in a spurt of embers.

No, actually, she wasn’t used to being disrespected like this.

Mara decided she’d rather be sweating in the Great Hall surrounded by spoiled assholes than have to waste any more time talking to this knave. After scrunching her face, she spoke quietly, the fire lacing her words no less potent. “I have a revel to attend to.”

She turned to leave, but the man grabbed her arm roughly, hauling her backward so she almost collided with his chest. She gasped, her throat tensing. “I heard you’re a betting woman,” the man all but whispered. “How about I make a bet? By the end of the night, the Sun Prince will steal your hand whether you like it or not.” He paused. “Should be an easy win for you if you have as much say in the matter as you claim.”

Her heart stuttered. “What’s in it for you?”

His breath was warm where it fanned over her neck. “I get to see the look of horror on your entitled face.”

She turned her head so she could see him out of her peripheral vision. “Fine. And if I win?”

He laughed and let her go, pushing past her to make his way toward the Great Hall.

She stood stunned in his wake, shaking her head like she might have imagined this entire encounter. Mara’s eyes welled. She tried to shove back the scoundrel’s piercing words: You don’t actually believe you have a choice in all this. Of course she did. Her father told her she could choose, just so long as she got married.

Her affirmations didn’t calm her. She prayed to the stars that the disdainful something-like-that of a knight wasn’t right as she scurried back to her room to fetch new shoes.