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In the morning, Mara made her way to the gardens, her father there to greet her. Annoying tradition called for the prince to properly propose engagement to the princess before her father would let them depart for the prince’s region in Solstrale. That entailed a small walk with each other, chaperones hovering in the distance. The prince would have to ask her father for his blessing, which her father would grant, blessing the gift Acastus would then bestow onto the princess. It was all a fussy convention Mara didn’t care much for.

She showed up in an ivory-colored dress, its satin material clinging to her. It had long sleeves that were embroidered with green vines. The same vines began at the end of the skirt and faded as they crawled to her waist. Her hair was pulled into a long braid, emerald jewels woven amongst it.

This was the first time since the tournament Mara had seen her father. She hurried to him, his eyes catching her rabbit-like form. “Princess,” he greeted, though, more as a question.

“Good morning, Father.”

Thousands of thoughts she craved to shout corroded behind her hazel eyes. He sighed. “Out with it, then.”

She tried to suppress her burning anger that had all night to brew as she spoke. “You told me I got to choose .”

“And I am the king, am I not? And the king has changed his mind.” Mara’s face sank. King Bjorn reached his ruddy hand out and stroked his daughter's cheek. “This is all for you, my dear. Prince Acastus is a respectable man. Young. Handsome. You’ll be happy with him.” Her father’s voice was soft as he spoke to her. She leaned her face into his hand further, always craving her father’s affection which she so rarely was rewarded since her mother's passing.

“I just don’t understand. Why would you tell me I got to choose my betrothed, just to change your mind and let something as silly as a tourney decide my fate?”

The king wiped away a stray tear that trickled down Mara’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Solstrale is an invaluable ally. You must trust me.” Something odd laced her father’s words, almost like he spoke without his natural lilt.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” her father asked.

“That Prince Acastus would win?”

“You know I wouldn’t have let you get swept away by just any noble.” He gave her a faded smile. “You would have picked him at the end of the day.”

She looked up at him, his down-turned eyes appraising her countenance. His face was aged from time spent as king, but his features still sharp and regal like he always had been. His green eyes shifted between hers, secrets swirled in their dark starbursts. The crown on his head gleamed from the morning light that entered through the floor-length windows looking out onto the intricate gardens. He gestured his head to the prince waiting behind her.

This was nothing but a political arrangement , she told herself. Her marriage was going to be no different than the countless ones before her.

“Go,” her father crooned.

Mara took another glance at her father, pleading with her eyes not to make her do this, but he had already looked away, staring at the approaching prince and the courtiers behind her. She let out a breath and turned to Acastus.

“My Princess,” he bowed, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss upon the back of it. He was far more handsome up close. Mara’s breath lodged in her throat. His high-collar black shirt was lined in gold, drawing her attention to his face. His hair was pushed back, exposing his clean-shaven and elegant facial features. His dark eyes had a silver tinge that she found breathtaking as they narrowed in on her, making her sweat under his scrutiny. He stood back up, taller than her, but not as much as her father or Evrardin.

Regal. Evrardin was right, that was the best word to describe him.

“Shall we?” he asked with a grin that lit up his face. He reminded her of an oil painting with the way his skin had a faint sheen to it that made him look simultaneously otherworldly and trapped behind a guise. Like a wilting flower that still had its vibrant petals. He didn’t seem to have a flaw anywhere on him. She nodded, accepting his arm, and followed him as he guided her out to the gardens.

The air was warm this morning, the breeze sweeping past her feet and through her hair. She smiled. No matter how bad things got, she’d always have this. It didn't matter where Acastus swept her away to, there would always be the beauty and idyllic comfort of nature. She hadn’t realized she closed her eyes, absorbing the sun, until Acastus spoke, shaking her from her reverie.

“We have a magnificent garden back in Kairth.” His voice was smooth like melted silk. She looked down at where her arm intertwined with his, finding it hard to keep his regard. She noticed he donned gloves that crept under the sleeves of his shirt, not an inch of his skin showing apart from his face. “The salt of the oceans makes for interesting arability. Curious how something as haunting as the abysmal sea can create such serene beauty.” He seemed lost in thought as he spoke.

“Will I be able to visit them?” Mara asked.

“Of course,” he tittered, his intonation making Mara’s chest spark. “You’ll be free to do whatever you please. I have no plans to treat you as a prisoner.” His eyes danced between her own. “I think you’ll like being so close to the ocean. It’s a welcome comfort with such blazing heat. Have you ever been to the sea, Princess?”

Mara shook her head and Acastus smiled as he guided her further.

The sound of their steps on the gravel was comforting as they waltzed deeper into the gardens. She could see her father and a few of his advisors when she glanced over her shoulder. Just behind them, she spotted Evrardin, his eyes already on her. She regretted not letting him tell her what his relation to the prince was, curious as to why he was here amongst Acastus’ other courtiers. She swallowed her nerves then turned her attention back to the prince.

“I’m aware this is all so sudden”—he looked down at her—“and you’re no doubt dreading having to leave your home to live with a stranger,” he added empathetically. “My father insisted I finally marry. Threatened he would surpass my birthright onto my brother if I didn’t claim a wife.” Mara shuddered at his word choice, claim. “While you’re beautiful and probably as sweet as you look, I had no say in the matter. I thought you might find comfort in the fact that I plan on letting you decide the pace of our relationship. I think we’ll enjoy each other's company, but I wanted you to know that I’m just as apprehensive about this as you likely are.”

She thought it an odd way to pick a wife, through a form of competition, for someone as prestigious as the Sun Prince.

He spoke like he was answering her thoughts. “I had no interest going through a line of viable ladies, picking one out based on ranking and resources their father could provide. When your father announced that the winner of the tourney would have your hand, I let fate decide my future. Perhaps this was meant to happen.”

In a lot of ways, his forthright verbiage did comfort Mara. And in other ways, it scared her. He spoke about fate so casually, but she knew it meant more to him than it did to her. The Sun Court was far more pious than some of the other courts, including the Glass Court. While the fact that her marriage with Acastus was sure to be more spiritual than she was used to—the Glass Court didn’t consider their high priest as part of the court like every other kingdom did—she didn’t fear it. She wondered if she’d be forced to join the Solar Sect. Regardless, she smiled at Acastus.

“That does bring me some comfort. Thank you. I appreciate your sincerity, My Prince.”

He nodded, his free hand coming over to cover her own that gripped his bicep. They waltzed through the gardens, stopping to admire this season’s blooms, halting before a bush of lyre flowers, his finger tracing their soft petals reminiscent of a bleeding heart. “We don’t have these in the north.” He looked over at her. “Ironic, isn’t it? The thing we get our name from is now a foreigner to our land.”

Mara knew he was referring to the city the Sun Court resided in, Kairth, which was known as the Coast of Bleeding Hearts. Hundreds of years ago, a time in which only the fae remember now, a tragic battle had broken out along Kairth’s shores. The blood soaked in the sand and waters, turning the tides pink for weeks on end. Where the blood had rooted deep into the sand, bleeding heart flowers began to rise all around the forgotten bodies, blooming in elegies. Such an atrocious and violent war that ended in far more deaths than they ever anticipated had resulted in beauty with blush-colored waters and blooming carmine flowers.

“They’re my favorite,” Mara added, hoping saying so wasn’t insulting. He picked one attached to a sagging stem and slid it behind her ear. Mara blushed as his knuckles ghosted her cheek.

“Then I’ll make sure they’re imported. Your room will always be stocked with them.”

Mara gave a melancholy smile at the gesture.

Once they circled the gardens and made it back to the court of onlookers, Prince Acastus approached her father, asking for her hand. He pulled out a necklace from his pocket, holding it for the king to evaluate. It was obscured by his fingers and Mara couldn’t get a glimpse at it.

She watched her father agree and place his hand on the necklace as the priest beside him hovered his hand above the other two men. Mara shifted uncomfortably on her feet and tried not to look over to Evrardin who she could feel staring at her. Her father muttered a blessing, the air around her thickening. This was truly happening.

Acastus turned to Mara and gestured for her to spin so he could lock the necklace around her neck, sealing the engagement. She bit her lip, irritated that none of this revolved around her consent, it was all about the men and their decisions. Still, she turned and moved her braid for him. She felt her hackles stand as his fingers dusted across her skin while he fiddled with the lock. Once it was on, she pulled the charm down in her hand to look at it. It was an anatomical heart, three small rubies dangling off of it, mimicking blood. It was strange and not at all what she expected, but it was gorgeous. She turned to look at the prince then smiled at him. But her contentment was short-lived, Evrardin appearing at Acastus’ side, glaring at her, something dark in his eyes as he shifted his gaze to the prince who leaned over and whispered in his ear.

Mara stood awkwardly as Acastus pulled at his gloves, securing them tighter, even with the warming weather. Acastus reached out and took Mara’s hand, leaning over and placing a kiss on the back. He grinned as he stood to his full height, but there was something painful in his expression.

“My heart swims valiantly knowing you are my bride-to-be.” Mara flinched at his words, giving him a docile look. Acastus’ hand still held her own, the leather of his glove cool against her. “I have a few obligations to settle, Princess.” He finally dropped his hold and turned to Evrardin. “Evrardin will be taking my stead at the celebration dinner. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but my hands are tied. My inept council requires more pressing matters for me to attend to,” he said with an air of sarcasm.

“No need to apologize, My Prince?—”

“Cas,” he corrected.”

“Cas. I’m sure Evrardin will be a worthy guest.” She gave Evrardin a quick impish grin. Evrardin refrained from shaking his head at her childish behavior.

The prince left along with all of his courtiers, her father already gone, likely dragged away to the throne room for tedious political matters.

Mara glanced at Evrardin. “You do not need to babysit me.”

“I’ve been instructed to stay by your side.”

Mara quirked a brow. “I have my own guards for that.” She gestured to the sentinels stationed around the building, some even strolling through the gardens. “I relieve you of your duties,” she said wryly.

Evrardin didn’t respond. For some reason, that irritated Mara far more than any snub he could have made.

Mara huffed and headed toward her rooms, Evrardin immediately following behind her like a lost pup. She should be more annoyed with Acastus for commanding Evrardin to stalk her, but all her anger laid misaligned with her new guard dog.

Back in her rooms, Evrardin took perch by the doorway, leaning back against the wall. He watched as she stood upon a fitting pedestal, the royal dressmaker fiddling with the hem of a mockup. If Evrardin was to trail around her, she was glad he would at least succumb to boredom as bespoke garments that met Mara’s specifications were discussed and she was sized for.

Mara would mostly be taking dresses she already possessed with her, but the king said she should have a few gowns expedited for special occasions. Anything Aurora, the royal dressmaker, didn’t finish with would be sent by courier to her in Kairth.

She had one day to prepare herself. One day. She held back the tears welling in her eyes, turning to face the windows as Aurora measured her waist for the third time, hoping Evrardin wouldn’t see the distress inside her. He’d only think her pathetic for getting upset over this—he made that much clear.

Dinner was quaint, nothing of note. Evrardin had taken a seat to her right where Acastus would have sat if he had attended. It certainly was odd having a celebratory dinner for their engagement and half of the party was not in attendance.

A few of Acastus’ courtiers sat around the table, amongst the closest members of the Glass Court, and the king. Mara scowled at Evrardin when he sat down, and he shook his head in annoyance.

The dinner involved mostly her father discussing details with Acastus’ representatives, boring matters Mara tuned out.

“Isn’t that right, Maralena?” her father boomed.

Mara glanced up, straightening her spine and nodding politely, a smile plastered on her face, to a conversation she had not been following. Her father turned back to the men at the table and carried on the discussion, the attention to her superficial.

Mara slouched back and looked at Evrardin as she twirled her spoon in her soup. “Why couldn’t the prince attend?”

The rest of the table paid no attention to the two of them. Evrardin glanced at her but didn't do her the decency of turning his head when he spoke. “Nothing important.”

Mara scoffed, dropping her spoon noisily into her dish. “It feels like it should be rather important, given that he’s missing his own dinner.”

Evrardin appeared bemused. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

Mara shied away at his words, a blush creeping on her cheeks. “Only with you,” she muttered, not intending for her words to sound so suggestive.

Evrardin shook his head slightly. Mara let out an exasperated breath and leaned on the table, wanting to go back to her room.

“You should probably learn to like me,” Evrardin added, tilting his body closer to her so only she could hear him.

“And why would I do something so strenuous?”

“Seeing as I’m the captain of Acastus’s guard, he’s entrusted me with the duty of protecting his wife when we get back to Kairth.”

Mara blinked a few times, digesting his words. She looked over at him with surprise, expecting him to have a sly expression, but he looked just as he always did: bored and irritated.

Mara figured Evrardin was one of the prince’s advisors, but she hadn’t considered the fact that he might be Acastus’ top choice. He wasn’t even a knight. She swallowed hard like a dagger being forced down her throat. The idea of Evrardin guarding her was livable, but the way he referred to her as Acastus’ wife made her—without being so melodramatic—dizzy.

“And I don’t suppose the prince is one for negotiations?” she asked, hiding the indignation from her voice.

It was Evrardin’s turn to scoff. “No, I don’t suppose he is. At least not when it comes to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I fear he’s already grown protective.” He said it like it was a bad thing.

Mara tried to accept Evrardin’s words, praying he was just being puckish and the prince wasn’t actually placing her at such a high value.

“Why did the prince want to have my hand so desperately that he would compete for it? I know he said something about his father wanting him to marry, but he's the Sun Prince—he has the pick of the land when it comes to a future consort.”

“He needed a noble-born lady. What better than a pretty princess.”

Mara swallowed the urge to tease him about inadvertently calling her pretty, but her heart was too jittery at his other words to even consider being playful. “Yes, but why me ? There are far more worthy princesses amongst the kingdoms. I’ve seen the Fae Princess—the eldest one—she would unite Solstrale and the Faelands. I would think that’d be of far more use to him than Wrens Reach. And she’s ethereal. I’m just…a human girl. The prince is so handsome, I don’t compare in the slightest degree.” Mara heated realizing she was rambling. She tended to do that when she was nervous.

“Quite the political assessment.” Evrardin’s face turned sour as if he wanted to say something he shouldn’t. But then his countenance went back to being brutish. “It’s not me you have to convince not to marry you.” His words were coarse, like this conversation was teetering on painful for him.

“Thank you for your wise counsel. I feel much better,” she said sarcastically.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel better.”

“Clearly.” Mara crossed her arms, quiet for the rest of dinner, only speaking when spoken to.