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A few minutes later, Evrardin stepped back into the caravan, the concession moving once again. His shirt had been soaked along the collar with water, his face now free of blood.

He sat back down silently, and Mara twiddled her thumbs. “Tell me what that was,” she finally said.

He didn’t move or speak, just kept glaring at the floor.

“Fine. Keep your secrets,” she began flippantly, “but I’ve read about the Sandwoods and have never seen anything about a creature?—”

“There are no secrets ,” he grumbled. “Not everything important is in dusty old books. In fact, many things are not written out in physical form—things not meant to be shared.”

“ See ,” she dragged. “Secrets.”

Evrardin blinked back his rage momentarily to look at her with what she suspected was only a minute drop of concern—but it was concern, nonetheless.

“Do you have a death wish? You cannot waltz around like the coddled heir you are, doing whatever the hell you please. In the middle of the fucking Sandwoods, of all places.”

Mara felt the anger culminate in her spine and simmer its way to her mouth, her lips twitching, begging to curse him out. She knew the woods were scary, but she hadn’t thought a bloody creature would attack her!

Instead of admitting that, to apologize, she said, “And whose fault was it that I was left unattended to my own devices, able to do whatever the hell I please ? Should I have sat around like a lap dog, waiting with my tongue out for you to return?”

Evrardin’s jaw clenched. “My patience is waning, liten rev .”

They arrived in Kairth at midday, the sun warming the once crisp morning air. She spent the entirety of the trip thinking back to the creature and the gnawing sounds it made as it slithered closer to her. She shivered at the memory.

The castle sprouted out of the sandy ground, most of the sandstone walls weathered from the raging sea as it crashed against the exterior. Towers jutted up in an incongruous array, some short, others so tall they looked like they might ascend into the clouds, appearing without any rhyme or reason. Sea ivy crowded the crevices and gaps, climbing up through the stones like it was holding the structure together, flame flowers blossoming sporadically and creating a soft orange glow. Mara marveled at the ethereal disposition of Kairth, its sandy structures and crystalized mirrors making it seem like the castle had bloomed from deep within the ocean. It was unlike anything she had ever seen…but something dark lingered in small corners and backends. A shadow cast where sunlight clearly poured over. The celestial fortress shrouded in a looming darkness that unsettled the princess.

Once they made it inside, Evrardin disappeared, leaving Mara with Lord Alfson—the self-proclaimed Hand to the King—but Cas had introduced him differently. “I see you’ve met the Puppet Master.” Lord Alfson’s face turned red with embarrassment. She heard him mutter something under his breath as Cas departed and Lord Alfson took her to her chambers.

He was rather old, his head absent of hair, but his short beard entirely gray. His skin was dark and his face had only a few wrinkles, but it was easy to tell he had aged faster than most, his back hunched slightly as he moved. One of his eyes was shrouded in a smokey cloud, the other a deep brown. She assumed he was blind in that one clouded eye. His robes were dark, like steel, dull silver threads etching Solstrale’s sigil. “The king and queen would like you to join them for dinner, Princess Maralena.”

“And when is that?”

“A few hours from now.”

She nodded like she was supposed to, the salacious timbre of Lord Alfson’s voice doing nothing to settle the homesickness she already began to feel. Mara, as well the two guards from Wrens Reach that trailed her, followed him up a winding set of stairs. Large stained-glass windows stood taller than Mara, stretching up the side of the building, letting in an opulent array of colors. The shape of an anatomical heart sat in the middle of the windowpane where the gods were said to look through to watch over their subjects.

“It’s so beautiful,” she marveled.

Lord Alfson strolled silently ahead of Mara, the clacking of his shoes the only sound between them as he led her down a never-ending route of corridors. By the time he stopped in front of her chambers, Mara was lost. There was no way she’d be able to find her way back to the entry hall, let alone the dining hall where the king had requested her.

Lord Alfson stared at her expectantly.

“Oh,” Mara mumbled, quickly going to move through her open door, passing a stoic guard who was plastered to the exterior wall of her room. She slipped into the apartment and marveled at the luxurious furnishing. She grew up as royalty, so she was well versed in the ostentatious displays of wealth, but she had never had a room like this. The windows were gilded in gold, sheer curtains making the sun shine in and create a pool of honey along the wooden floorboards. The bed was large and layered with far too many pillows, all with intricate embroidery and tassels, a soft gossamer canopy decorating the bedposts. There was a decadent rug that spread out across the underbelly of her bed. Several wardrobes lined the back wall, an assortment of shining dresses out on display. Though, the ornate mirror that extended the entire length of the wall was what really caught Mara’s eye. It was wrapped in golden trim that resembled the likeness of a tree branch, butterflies and flowers engraved along its edges. She wasn’t used to seeing mirrors revered.

“Captain Konungrsson will be by shortly to escort you, Princess.” Alfson’s voice shocked her out of her ogling, blinking several times to wash the eye-burning beauty from her vision. The idea of Evrardin being the one to escort her set a rock sinking into her stomach.

“Surely my own guards are capable of taking me to dinner. I wouldn’t want to bother the captain.” She added in the last line abruptly so as to not sound disdainful.

Lord Alfson’s expression was unmoving, a soggy frown on his wrinkled face. “Apologies, Princess, but the prince has requested the captain specifically.”

Mara’s shoulders sank, but she gave him a smile. “Of course.”

Lord Alfson wasted no time leaving; orienting Mara about the intricacies of the Sun Court and layout of the castle clearly beneath him. She’d have to ask her ladies-in-waiting and base her judgements on her readings of Kairth.

Mara twirled in her room, marveling at all the intricate details, her thoughts lingering to the captain’s surname. Konungrsson … Son of the King. He was a bastard of the north, then. He had a slight accent so she knew he wasn’t from Solstrale. And he certainly was no fae. So perhaps he was a bastard of the king in the Wastelands.

She shook her head and forced her thoughts to focus back on her room and away from Evrardin’s history. She couldn’t believe this would be her room—at least until she was to share one with the prince. It was over twice the size of hers back home.

Home. She supposed this was her home now.

She startled when a knock sounded at her door. Faint, but she was positive she heard it. One of her guards opened the door and she expected to find a brooding knave, but instead she had to tilt her head to lock eyes with a much shorter boy. The prince and him shared unmistakable features. His hair was dark and curled, his eyes gleaming gold, similar to how Acastus’ looked in the sun. This must be the brother Acastus’ had mentioned.

“So, you’re really here,” he began, leaning over to look past Mara into her rooms.

“And who are you?” She held back a smile at the curious boy.

He righted himself as if switching into his regal persona. “Prince Aevum.”

“Princess Maralena,” she said, giving him a slight curtsy. “Younger brother to Acastus, I presume?”

He nodded. “I didn’t believe it when they said Cas had chosen a bride.” He twirled his hands together and Mara noticed he was wearing leather gloves, just as Acastus did. “Thought she might be magical if she had caught his eye.” The boy was hesitant to look up at her, but when he did, there was a rose blush across his round cheeks at the rude implication of his words.

“I’m afraid I’m none of that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He shifted his tone. “No matter,” he said, waving his hand. “I think I’ll like you just the same.” He gave her a toothy smile and Mara’s heart lurched.

“Did you want to come in?” Mara asked him.

“I…” He looked at the sentinel outside her door and then shook his head. “I have to get back to my lessons. I just wanted to see my new sister.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I wouldn’t mind some company while I unpacked.”

She could see the desire within the boy bubbling up. He desperately wanted to stay. She wondered if he had many friends.

“I really can’t. I’ll see you at dinner though!” he beamed.

Mara nodded, unable to repress her grin as the prince skipped off back down the halls, turning to give her a timid wave.

Once he was out of sight, the guard outside her compartments announced her luggage had arrived. She busied herself by putting her things away; taking the dresses and shoes she brought, placing them in the wardrobe, hanging up her dresses. She wanted to do anything but think about being trapped here for the rest of her life.

Mara waited alone in her rooms. She edged closer to the mirror, her hand extending to stroke its

silvery surface. Her fingers danced across the cool glass, its face so heavy and smooth that it looked like pools of liquid rippled out from where her fingertips touched.

A man cleared his throat from behind her, making her jump. She spotted Evrardin by her door through the mirror. “Seven hells!” she gasped, the annoyance already setting in as she peered back at him in the reflection.

Her eyes roved over his large stature, stoic as he mimicked her, appraising her outfit succinctly. She begrudgingly turned on her heels to face him, fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

Evrardin noticed her silence, likely already accustomed to the abundance of words that often spewed from her mouth. “Nervous?” he mocked.

Her eyes darted to him, the fire within them rising like he had already seen so many times now. Oh, how easy it was to start the princess.

Mara pursed her lips and stormed over to him. “Let's just get this over with,” she muttered as she slipped past him and out the door.

“That’s the attitude.” He closed her door before passing her in two easy strides. She was about to march her way down the halls in front of him, knowing very well she had no idea where anything was located in this castle, simply on precedent of not wanting to ask the way.

“This way,” he said, gesturing his chin over his shoulder. She hesitated before abandoning her idea of going down the wrong corridor and decided to drag her feet behind Evrardin.

As they approached a grand set of stairs she didn’t remember seeing earlier, she pointed down a long hall dressed in shadows. “What's down there?”

Evrardin followed her line of sight. He grunted as they began down the stairs. “The prince’s quarters.”

“It’s so dark,” she thought aloud.

“It’d be wise of you not to wander down there unchaperoned,” he scolded.

Mara’s chest warmed, her cheeks pinking, understanding the implication. She didn’t think he’d care about her reputation.

Lost in thought, she stumbled on the last step, her dress catching on her shoe, and she tumbled into Ev’s back. She quickly righted herself, withdrawing her hands from where they caught between his shoulder blades.

She expected his reprimand—chiding her clumsiness at the very least. But all he did was clench his jaw and continue forward.

He is such lovely company , she thought. She preferred him when he snapped at her—ironically, she could feel the hatred pool off of him more when he wasn’t speaking.

Mara hadn’t realized they entered the dining hall, her eyes busy tracing every surface they passed, taking it all in. “Princess Maralena,” she heard the captain say. She looked at him, coming back to reality, her presence now within the grand hall where the tables were set elegantly, the king, queen, and princes already seated and looking at her.

She quickly curtsied, forcing a wide smile as she introduced herself to King Acanthus and Queen Darla.

The king’s hand extended, gesturing for her to sit. “Pleasure to finally meet the princess who caught my son’s eye.”