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Evrardin stood silently on a sickle-leaf rug of white and gold as Prince Acastus smiled in the ornate mirror before him. A drape in the color of Wrens Reach lay crumpled in the corner, ripped from the mirror’s frame by the prince, now a violet pool on the floor. Acastus’ lanky fingers tentatively reached out and stroked the melted silver surface of the mirror, sighing.

“Anything?” the prince questioned Evrardin, making eye contact through the mirror.

Evrardin’s fingers anxiously fiddled with the sword strapped to his hip. “Queen Meredith’s effigy confirmed it.”

“What did it say?”

“ Where light meets shadow, her reign echoes in our reflections .”

Acastus hummed, clearly agreeing her vague inscription hinted that she died glassfairing, something the prince already suspected. He turned to face Evrardin who still had blood crusted around his neck and hairline from Sir Orion. “Thunder and Runes, Ev. See to your washing; you’re a right mess.”

“Cas, I urge you to think about this. The princess is not the most agreeable?—”

Cas held his hands up to stop Evrardin. Ev immediately locked his lips, waiting for Cas to speak. “She’ll have to do. I need a glassfairer. I don’t care how agreeable she is… You’ll make sure she stays in line.”

“But her mother died glassfairing—” Ev added.

“Yes. Her mother’s death might indicate the Glass Court’s depleted divine connection, but if the girl is bound to me, I expect her prowess to be lifted,” Acastus reasoned. “Solstrale is the last kingdom to possess such powers. Now, go wash and be cleansed of your filth—you’re leaking all over my carpets,” he spat through gritted teeth.

Evrardin’s fist clenched around the hilt of his sword. He had the puerile desire to remind Acastus that these weren’t technically his carpets, but he kept his mouth sealed like the envelope he carried in his pocket. He took in a breath, knowing there was nothing he could do to prevent what was bound to happen.

He turned to leave and Acastus began pacing in his room, mumbling to himself about there not being enough time. Evrardin looked at his palm which was now not only blanketed in dried blood but had encrusted imprints lining it from the chasings on the hilt of his sword.

Evrardin wasn’t convinced the Glass Court had much prowess left. Almost all the kingdoms had severed connections, losing all divine magick. However, the gods in Solstrale and Wrens Reach had been the last to leave, lingering amounts of power still tingling their fingertips. But with the Glass Queen dying as she crossed through a mirror, Ev worried the Glass Princess would not be able to hone the power Acastus needed. And Evrardin would have been glad to watch Acastus reap his consequences if it wasn’t Ev who would have to clean it up.

Evrardin scrubbed the blood from his face and changed his clothes, standing in his small guest quarters with the letter unfolded in his hand. His eyes darted back and forth across the page, his demeanor unwavering as he read.

He tossed it in the fire before him.

Ev strolled down the hall. It was late now, likely edging toward midnight. He tried to swallow the events of today, sweeping through the scenes in his mind as he passed two open double doors. Inside laid rows of shelves stacked high with books. Tables with tomes left open, parchment rolled up and stacked. But what caught Ev’s eye was the small ember tittering in the air like a flamefly. Attached to the small flame was a woman. She held a candle in her hand as she scanned one of the shelves, two large books already clutched in her other arm.

The princess. The one Evrardin stumbled upon in the cobblestoned hall of Venmore, sprawled out on her hands and knees, cursing to herself like a mad woman.

Intrigued, he leaned against the doorframe and watched her.

Maralena, unaware of his looming presence, tilted her head back. She glared at the tomes like she was swearing in her mind. She seemed to want one on the higher shelves where the neglected grimoires were shoved. She looked around her feet and settled on laying the books in her hand on the floor before scurrying over to the bookshelf traverse, pushing it to where she needed it.

She climbed the rungs, her hand gripping the candle tightly as she inched upward. Once she made it to the top, she craned her neck to get view of the tomes and the ladder wobbled beneath her. A gasp left her lips as she abruptly leaned forward and caught herself on the shelves with a thud.

Evrardin hadn’t realized his feet began moving closer to her as if on instinct.

Mara released her hands once she steadied herself and let her finger drag along the spine of the tomes until she landed on the one she had been searching for. She pulled it into her arm, careful not to disturb the other books packed tightly on either side. She held them securely under her arm, her other hand squeezed around the candle, and she glanced down.

Mara leaned forward to keep her balance as she slowly stuck a slippered foot out to land on the rung beneath her. The tip of her toes slid against it, her eyes widening as she began to fall. Mara tried to grab out for the ladder, but with occupied hands, she plummeted toward the hardwood floor. “Shit— argh ,” she tried to curse midair but instead spouted nonsense, everything happening so fast.

He moved without thinking, reaching out for her, his arms outspread, pulling her against his chest.

Mara opened her eyes and turned her head to meet his gaze. Her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her upper arms and across her torso. The candle had fallen to the floor and extinguished with a wave of smoke, but the tome was still clutched in her grip. He glared at her, neither of them speaking.

Mara shook her head finally and wiggled. “Put me down!”

“That’s no way to thank someone who just saved you,” he grumbled, releasing her.

Mara stumbled away from him, picking up her candle and straightening her nightgown. He appraised her, her chemise a soft cream color that did little to shield the shadow of her body beneath. Mara’s cheeks and chest pinked, embarrassed.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she grunted.

“So, next time I should just let you break your neck, then?”

“There won’t be a next time,” Mara refuted, picking up the two other books she left on the floor.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Your betrothal says different.” No, Evrardin would be seeing a lot of her now that she was to marry Acastus.

Mara spun around so fast to face him, he thought she might snap her neck. “You insufferable prick!” she spat.

Evrardin’s eyes widened in brief shock at her outburst—her forwardness. Then he slowly grinned. “Ah, yes. I was right, it is rewarding to see your face scrunched with vexation.”

She snarled. “What did you do? I know you did something to”—she waved her hands around, lost for words—“force my father into changing his mind! You made it so the Sun Prince would win my hand.”

Evrardin scoffed. “You think I hold such power?”

She appraised him, her face twisted with disgust.

“No, you know I hold no such power. You think I’m beneath you.” Not a question, but a fact. “You hate that I’m right. That I foretold your future better than you could.”

Tears began to well in her eyes and she spun around. “You’re awful.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise.”

“You got what you wanted. Now, leave me be.”

He shook his head even though she wasn’t facing him.

She finally turned around when he remained silent and she gave him a sour look. She shoved past him to leave. When she made it to the doors, she looked over her shoulder and jumped; he was right behind her. “W-What are you doing?”

“Escorting you back to your room.”

Mara furrowed her brows, gesturing around her. “As you can see, no guards escorted me here, so I certainly don’t need one to get back.”

“The halls are dark at night. And with so many guests here, it’s not safe for a princess to be wandering all alone. Especially dressed like that,” he said, gesturing his head at her.

Mara blushed again, pulling the books to her chest to block his view. “Is that a threat?”

“Only if you want it to be.” Mara went to open her mouth, the indignation brewing over her features, but he cut her off. “You can argue till you’re red in the face. I’m walking you to your room whether you like it or not, liten rev .”

Mara’s face went from pink in embarrassment to crimson in fury. She pursed her lips then turned on her heels and marched away, making him smirk as he started to trail behind her.

After a few moments of stomping down the halls, he broke the silence. “Evrardin.”

Mara looked over her shoulder. “Hm?” She glazed over his form like she was only now noticing how he finally wasn’t covered in dirt or sweat. His hair was slicked back from being washed, a few curled pieces hanging in front of his face. His eyes were heavy from all the monstrosities he had borne witness, and the way he carried himself screamed self-assured. He was certainly older than her, but probably only by ten years or so.

“My name. I’m sure you’ve been calling me a slew of crude monikers in your head. But that’s my real one.”

Mara rolled her eyes then looked back in front of her. “Maralena,” she mumbled.

Of course, Evrardin already knew that. Mara slowed, letting Evrardin match her stride. He hated that he wondered what she was thinking—probably about how Knave suited him far better. She looked over at him, his eyes already on her, making her awkwardly refocus her attention on her feet. “Do you really have nothing better to do than harass me?”

“I told you why.”

She raised a brow in exhausted irritation. “Do you truly expect me to believe you’re concerned about my well-being inside the familiar walls of my home? After you swore to see my demise, even going so far as to bet on it?”

Evrardin paused for a moment, a loud screech cutting off his thoughts.

“What in the seven hells was that?” Mara asked, her eyes wide, halting as she looked around. It was hard to tell where it came from.

The sound of something large crashing into the walls echoed down the hall. Stomping and thumping in a rampage.

Ev nudged her to keep walking. “Told you. Lots of guests around tonight. It’s not safe.”

Mara begrudgingly kept moving, but not before calling him a crude name under her breath.

“Quite the colorful tongue for a princess,” he mumbled.

Mara ignored his remark. “What could have made that sound?” she queried.

Evrardin stayed silent beside her.

“So, enlighten me. Are you the prince’s manservant?” she goaded after some beats of silence.

Ev shot daggers at her and spoke through gritted teeth. “Something like that.”

“ Something like that ,” she mocked, “and also ‘something like that’ of a knight. Do you ever speak plainly? Or do you thrive on irritating discourse?”

When he didn’t answer and they continued in silence, Mara’s demeanor shifted, her fingers digging into the tome’s leather-bound skin. “What’s he like?” she asked quietly.

Ev noted the change in her tone, from aggressive and fiery, to solemn and soft. He decided he liked it better when she was cruel. “Regal.”

“Regal?” Mara scoffed.

Evrardin glanced at her. “What? Do you want me to list every minuscule vice and malevolent compulsion the prince possesses? Would that truly make you feel better?”

Mara frowned.

“Doesn’t matter what he’s like. Either way, you’re stuck with him.”

“What tragedy has made you so sadistic?” she asked, her tone sharpening again.

“I’m not sadistic. I just don’t have the patience to comfort a spoiled princess over the fact that she’s marrying a prestigious prince who— let me remind you —is not a decrepit old man like half the pricks competing tonight; desperate to procure the accordance of a young princess like yourself into their beds.” He paused his chide, but only briefly. “Though, come to think of it, they’d likely prefer it if you went unwillingly.” Mara’s eyebrows rose and Evrardin got sick satisfaction from stumping her. “Should I tell you what my duty to the prince is?”

Mara’s lips tightened into a straight line. They rounded the corner to Mara’s room, a guard stationed outside. “Princess Mara?!” the guard said, confused. “How—When did you leave your chambers?”

She walked up to the large wooden door, pausing to face Evrardin. “Thank you for escorting me. Good night, Evrardin.” Her words unctuous.

Mara slammed the door behind her like a child. His lips quirked at her pompous disposition. Evrardin nodded at the still-stunned guard and ambled back the way he came.