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“Write to me, won’t you?” Jessamine mumbled into Mara’s neck. Their arms clung around one another, tears welling in Mara’s eyes as she breathed in the soft walnut shampoo that lingered in her friend’s hair.

“Only if you promise to pester Azor in my absence,” Mara responded. “At least until you leave for Throneskeep.”

Leaving Jessamine behind weighed heavily on Mara’s chest, but she knew she couldn’t ask her friend to come with her to Solstrale. It wouldn’t be fair to Jess, who had been homesick for as long as she had known her. Jess belonged in Throneskeep, which she would set out for soon after Mara left, no longer obliged to attend to the princess. Her family’s debt to the crown would officially be paid.

The women pulled back from one another, their hands still clutching each other’s shoulders. “I’m gonna miss you wildly,” Jess said. “Maybe I’ll find a husband of my own in Throneskeep,” she tried to add on a lighter note.

Mara gave her a lopsided smile. As much as that filled her with a spark of happiness—the idea of her friend finding love—it pained her knowing she wouldn’t be around to watch such things unfold. Jessamine wouldn’t come gushing to Mara about the man courting her; not when Mara was so many kingdoms away.

“It’s an unparalleled journey we’re headed on,” Jess said, trying to disguise the fact that she was wiping her tears rather than brushing an eyelash from her cheek. “New and scary, but journeys usually are. This is good for us”—she grabbed Mara’s arms, pleading—“the world is finally opening up and allowing us in. You’ll be able to live out your silly fairy tales just as you always dreamed. And just think, in a few days’ time, you’ll finally touch the salted sea for yourself.” Jessamine had hearts in her eyes as she got lost in a reverie, thinking of the wide expanse of the sea that the two of them had only ever read about.

That prospect gave Mara the jolt of energy she currently lacked. She had been reeling about how soon she was going to see the open ocean and she tried to use that to drown out her other wallowing emotions. Her mother always said the sea was her first love, and Mara longed to feel the treacherous, thrilling waters for herself. Being away from her mother’s statue was leaving a piece of her behind in Venmore, but maybe the waves along the coast of Kairth would bring her the same warm blanketed hug she felt when she talked to her mother’s marbled effigy.

“When did you get so poetic?”

“I’ve been trapped with Master Wistmore for too long. Him and his scribes are starting to corrupt me,” Jess teased.

With a sense of newfound, terrifying excursions, the air around her suddenly smelt so enticing. The potent scent of horse shit, baking bread, and wet stone never appealed to Mara, but at this moment, it was the most comforting smell in the world. She didn’t want to move; she wished time could crumble around her, morphing into the stillness of a painting, trapping her in this very moment with her friend’s arms wrapped around her. She never wanted to leave.

Her brother came up beside her and squeezed her sides, making her yelp. Mara turned and swatted his chest. “I’m most certainly not going to miss that.”

Azor smiled. “You say that now, but in two months, you’ll be wishing I was haunting you with my antics.”

Mara’s face sank at his words. “I’m really going to be gone for that long,” she said, more to herself than anything.

Azor's face cringed.

“Don’t think like that,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon enough. You’ll just appreciate me that much more with our time apart.”

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll visit as soon as you can.”

“Promise,” he said with a grin, pulling his sister into a hug.

Mara awkwardly wrapped her arms around her brother, wanting to feign disgust, but she collapsed into him, wishing she never had to leave his arms.

Azor looked around before releasing Mara. “Is father not here?”

Mara kicked the dirt beneath her feet. “He said goodbye this morning.”

She would have thought her father would be a sobbing mess as he watched her depart, finally carted off to be married. Maybe that’s why he didn’t show—he wouldn’t want the courtiers to see him an emotional wreck.

“I trust father,” Azor began. Mara found it hard to meet his eyes. “He wouldn’t be forcing you to marry someone if he didn’t think it right. Solstrale hasn’t unionized with any other kingdom in some time, their alliances weakening. This will be good for Wrens Reach.”

Mara sucked in a breath. “I know. I know. And I want to do my duty…It’s just…”

Azor tugged her closer. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this either.” His hand rubbed patterns on her shoulder in comfort. “You’ll settle in Kairth soon enough—befriend new ladies, fall madly in love with your husband. Everything will be okay.” He shook her so she’d look at him. “Okay?”

She nodded, a swell of relief mixing with her erratic heartbeat.

With a big gulp of air, and a final goodbye to her friend and brother, Mara turned, clutching the skirt of her dress in her hands like she used to do as a child, and faced her destiny, which happened to be a large wooden carousel of carts that lined the road before her. Several horses pulled at the reins; unlike anything she had seen before. Usually, nobles traveled in a wagon or a litter; she had never heard of an array of small house-like boxes connected to make a string of moving carts. The Royal Procession, the maid had called it.

The bag at Mara’s side shifted as she headed toward the cart, one of the guards on her flank, unwilling to let herself cry. She didn’t want to seem weak or to give someone the satisfaction that she was, indeed, a spoiled princess who felt sorry for herself.

As if summoned, her eyes caught sight of a tall man bobbing his way between the caravans up ahead. His hair was pulled back into a low bun, several tendrils spilling around the framing of his face—she wondered why he would even bother tying it up.

Mara didn’t want to let Evrardin catch a glimpse of her wavering, proving he was right in his assumption about her. Women got carted off to marry strangers all the time, at least her betrothed was a handsome prince; not all women were afforded such a luxury. Mara wasn’t a child, she was a grown woman who was ready to perform her duty.

She followed a stout fellow as he escorted her into one of the caravans painted a deep burgundy. The interior seemed too expansive for its outward size, completely foreign to anything she had ever traveled in. She tentatively took a seat on one of the benches lined with red and gold upholstery, sitting as close to the wall as she could so she’d be able to stare out the window and watch her lands that she loved so much roll past. One of her handmaidens came in and sat beside her, awkwardly patting her skirt down, not knowing what to say to the upset princess.

Chattering caused her to turn, taking in the sight of three women stepping aboard, greeting her in a polite curtsy, before settling in across from her. She assumed these would be her ladies-in-waiting. She wasn’t much in the mood for talking so she was glad when they kept to themselves, only speaking to Mara’s handmaiden, letting her sulk in the corner.

At least she would have a few bits from home, even if it was just in the one handmaiden and a handful of guards.

It seemed like the caravans were ready to leave as Mara heard shouts that resembled orders and the tightening of reins, when the cart tilted to the left, drawing all the women’s attention to the derivation. A familiar brooding figure stepped into the confinement and Mara let out an annoyed grunt.

“Lovely to see you too, Princess,” he quipped. The other ladies looked between them, extremely inconspicuous in their stares. Evrardin took a seat diagonally from her, shifting his sword as he sat. The carts immediately began moving, leaving Mara to assume Evrardin was waiting until the last possible second to board.

“Have you come to harass me?” she asked, irritated.

“I want to be here far less than you think, but Cas wanted someone to watch over you.”

“What? So, you’re chaperoning me before we even get to Kairth? Am I a sheep to be shepherded?”

Ev brought his foot up so his boot sat lazily across his thigh. He nodded at her, already bored of the conversation. He wore relaxed attire, his cotton tunic hanging loosely from his chest, the sleeves pushed up to his elbow. He sported a sword, but no other forms of armor or protection.

“Why do the gods keep punishing me?” she asked with spite at the ceiling of the cart.

The ladies looked at her with wide eyes. “Princess, he’s the Captain of the Royal Guard,” one of the women chided in a hushed tone.

Ev had a smirk on his face as he watched Mara struggle between keeping face or cursing him out further. “Of course, my apologies,” she said, unsuccessful in restraining her rolling eyes.

“Careful. Keep that up and they’ll get stuck that way.”

Mara stuck her tongue out at him like a petulant child. She heard him chuckle in his chest and that only made her more irate. She knew how pathetic she must be in his eyes, but when she thought about being taken away from her home against her will, she didn’t care for manners. Mara looked out the window, her body simmering with sparks of fire.

Several hours passed, the sun slowly sinking in the west, when they came to a stop. Evrardin sat forward, looking away from his exhilarating nail picking, and stood, hunched so as to not hit his head on the ceiling as he peered out the window. “What the fuck are they doing stopping here?”

“Where?” Mara asked, mimicking him by looking out her own window. They appeared to be in a forest, a thicket surrounding them. When she saw the dark shadows, it dawned on Mara where they likely were. “Are we in the Sandwoods?”

Evrardin grunted as he tore the door open wildly before turning around and glaring right at Mara. She had seen him brooding and exasperated, but never enraged. She felt small all of a sudden, his eyes piercing her.

Sand might not sound frightening for a forest, but it coined that name because its woods separated the Glass and Sun Courts. Where heat and sand make glass. It’s where things went to die. To get lost forever. It was borderline forbidden, though, most still risked trekking through it otherwise they’d have to suffer the long way. If one stayed on the path and did not stray, all should be fine.

“Do not leave this fucking cart. Do you hear me?”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to do whatever you say?” She shouldn’t have questioned him. Not when he was being so serious. Ev stalked toward her. Oh, she really shouldn’t have said that .

Evrardin rested both hands on either side of the backrest, caging Mara in between his arms as he loomed over her like a storybook villain. She kept her eyes locked on him, refusing to cower away in challenge, but still feeling small in comparison. “You think just because you're royalty, you can say and do whatever you please. That you’re above everyone else.” His voice was low, only she could hear him. She gulped. “It gives me great displeasure to disclose this chivalrous obligation,”—Evrardin didn’t try to hide the sardonic tone of his voice—“but I am the one who will fall on a sword for you— for the prince . It’s me who will protect you from harm's way. Unfortunately, your extensive training in being a pain in the ass won’t do you any good out here. So, when I tell you to stay in the cart. You stay in the fucking cart.”

His eyes searched hers and she wondered what he was looking for. Compliance? Fear? Mara could feel the warmth from his breath as he spoke, and she prayed he’d be attacked by a wild bear when he left the cart.

“I know you’d love to see my blood streaked on the trees out there because of your own adversity.” He gestured his head toward the open door. “I even bet that’s what you’re picturing right now, but at least wait until we arrive in Kairth. You can torment me with that smart mouth of yours all you want, but you’ll do as I say while we’re stuck in these forsaken woods. The prince insists on it.” His mouth contorted into a snarl, his words a vibration that twirled up Mara’s spine.

Any sense of leverage she thought she possessed being betrothed to the prince evaporated. Mara had a plethora of snarky remarks lined up in her head, but all she did was nod, daunted by the rogue guard who seemed to have defiance written in red at the top of his code of chivalry. Evrardin gave her one last stern look before pushing off her chair and exiting the cart. Mara’s hands pressed against her flushed cheeks, trying to cool her chagrined blood rush.

She sat back in her seat in defeat, looking at the ladies in front and beside her, giving them a reassuring smile. The ladies seemed to not care to acknowledge Evrardin’s urgency, immediately going to gossip in his absence. Mara wasn’t about to complain.

“Handsome, isn’t he, Ternia?” one of the younger women said, her cheeks pinking. Mara looked at the blonde and smiled softly. She couldn’t have been any older than she was. It made her think how vastly different their lives were.

“A handsome face that is ruined with all his sulking,” the older woman retorted, relaxing her hands on the lap of her skirt. Mara snickered. Good , she wasn’t the only one who thought Evrardin’s macabre outlook a tedious affair.

Ternia responded to the younger girl’s first question. “Don’t be stupid, Herra,” she said, nudging Herra with her elbow. “You shouldn’t talk about the captain like that, especially in the presence of the prince’s future wife.”

Herra’s warm eyes rounded, terror crossing her gentle features as they flashed over at Mara. “It’s okay,” Mara reassured, smirking at Herra. “He is handsome. It’s rather irritating, actually.”

The brunette girl, Ternia, likely a few years her senior, spoke. “It must be some stipulation to work for the prince.” Mara quirked an eyebrow at her in question. Ternia spoke in a low tone. “You’ll see once we get to Kairth. All of Prince Acastus’ courtiers are dreadfully gorgeous. The men and women alike. It’s terribly inconvenient.”

“How so?” Mara asked.

The older woman gave Ternia a look as if scolding her for gossiping, but Ternia didn’t pay any mind. “The lords and ladies already get their way with just the flick of a finger. But with them all being so young and handsome… it makes it impossible for anyone around to refuse a request.”

The eldest woman’s eyes traced along Mara’s fingers as she played with her rings anxiously. She didn’t know how she’d fair as a newcomer. And taking the hand of such a handsome prince, being so bland and unremarkable herself, she was sure to face scrutiny. “That’s enough,” the eldest reprimanded, silencing the two women who couldn’t help but giggle.

Mara gazed out the window, the dust in the air twinkling like shards of glass, making the dark forest look like the night sky. She wondered why they stopped here so abruptly and why it had upset Evrardin so much. She knew the woods weren't safe, but as long as they didn’t stray from the road, she didn’t see why this would be an issue. She wondered if he’d get reprimanded for leaving her unattended. A small cynical smirk played on her lips at the idea.

Mara shook her head. Gods be damned, she was becoming just as bad as Evrardin. She wasn’t usually such a miserable, sadistic person. She decided she might try to restart her relationship with Evrardin—perhaps become amicable acquaintances. She sighed then stood up, reaching out for the cross-hatched door, the woods eliciting a silent thrum like they were calling out to her.

“Princess Mara, the captain requested you stay here,” her maiden said to her.

Mara gritted her teeth before collapsing back on her bench. As time ticked by, she became more anxious, ready for the carts to begin moving again. She reached for the door handle again, ignoring the women’s protests. “I’m just going to relieve myself. I’ll be right back.” Before she could hear their responses, she slipped outside. She stood along the dirt road, examining the caravans up and down. Silence.

She carefully trekked farther down the litter, searching for the source of their stop. A growling sound echoed in the woods causing Mara to freeze, turning to face the tree line. After several beats, she thought she had made the noise up in her head. The moment she moved her feet to keep walking, the coppice shifted, sticks rumbling, and Mara stood stunned as silvery orbs glowed behind the trees—a set of eyes.

She stumbled back, collapsing against the caravan, her heart racing in terror. The creature slowly emerged, feathers sprouted along its lithe body. Even though it was midday, the forest was dark, shadows cast along the path. She struggled to make out the inky creature, but she could at least tell it had feathers and was rather tall. It made a low gurgling noise, reaching for her, its claw brushing her cheek. She winced, her eyes shutting, her hands digging into the wood of the caravan.

Her lips parted, and before she could cry out, Evrardin sprung from the tree line and moved swiftly toward the creature, his sword drawn and face sweaty. The creature recoiled back, but not before its claws tore along her cheek. Blood tickled a path on her skin and Mara gawked in surprise, not pain.

Evrardin turned to her. “Get inside!”

She looked between him and the creature then turned and sprinted into the caravan. The woman gave her concerning looks as she shook, sitting back in her seat, her eyes plastered open in horror.

She stared at the door, everyone remaining silent, waiting for Evrardin to either cry out in agony, or to storm in. After a few dreadfully long minutes, Evrardin climbed back into the caravan, out of breath and huffing for air.

Mara stood at his sudden intrusion, his eyes locking on hers. She thought he might march over to her to scold her. To berate her for disobeying him. A cold breeze fluttered in through the door he left agape. He took the few strides to reach her and grabbed her shoulders. She gasped at the contact. She expected him to shake her, to call her a madwoman. Instead, he appraised her face and then trailed his eyes down her dress. “You’re hurt,” he finally said, more out of obligation than genuine concern.

She gulped and shook her head, taken aback. “What was that?”

She could tell he was staring at the cut along her cheek. “You’re bleeding.”

“So are you. And far worse than me, might I add.”

He ignored her, stepping away and digging through one of the nearby baskets for clean linens.

“Ev, I’m fine. It’s barely a scratch. You should—” He waved her off and she hated how easily his shortened name tumbled out of her mouth.

He tossed the clean cloth at her, urging her to wipe her face of the blood. “Next time, listen to what I say, liten rev .” Evrardin’s voice was strained and not as full of aggression as she expected it to be. He sounded exhausted. Like he was miserable having to babysit a spoiled princess who was making his life harder than it already was.

She watched him without moving or showing any acknowledgment that she heard him. His lips tightened in vexation, then he stepped out of the caravan, the door slamming behind him. She saw a trail of blood on the wooden floor where he had just been.

She crashed back into the red chair, letting one of the maidens guide her as she cleaned the cut along her face.