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M areleau never imagined she could be so physically close to a person yet feel so lonely. But as she rolled from side to side on the old mattress, sandwiched between her lady’s maids, lonely was all she felt. She wanted her husband. The bed they’d shared at Dermaine Palace. Not these three snoring harpies and a stale bedroom.

She rolled onto her opposite side, wincing as the wooden bedframe creaked in response to her movement. Ann mumbled in her sleep, Sera erupted with a gasping snore, and Breah’s arm flew across Mareleau’s face. Mareleau sat up with a scoff and cut a glare at the three sleeping girls. How could they sleep in accommodations as shoddy as this? Their rooms back at Verlot were almost as nice as her own. Yet there they were dozing like three baby pigs in a stall.

A stall. Yes, that was all she could say of this room. It certainly wasn’t appropriate for a supposedly pregnant woman, much less a queen. This wasn’t the first time she’d been relegated to such accommodations during her recent travels either. Instead of staying at grand estates and being hosted by lords, viscounts, and barons, she’s been shuttled from one inn to the next. They were fine inns, she supposed, but they were nothing like what she was used to. She wasn’t sure whether she had her father’s malice or her new kingdom’s lesser financial wealth to blame for her environment, but she suspected it was the former.

She gritted her teeth as her eyes shot to the closed door of the tiny bedroom. She was tempted to stomp across the hall to Lord Ulrich's room, pound on his door, and demand he find private lodgings for her at once. But she knew it would do no good. Her uncle never had much patience for her before, and his opinion of her seemed little improved now that she was queen. If anything, it had the opposite effect. At least they were finally nearing the end of their journey.

An unsettling question came to mind. Would Ridine be any better? It was a castle, not a palace, after all. A structure built for defense. With a sigh, she laid back down only to find Breah had taken up more space in Mareleau’s absence. Cursing under her breath, she stood and grabbed her cloak, wrapping it tightly around her as she crept from the room.

The hall outside was chilly, lit with a single lamp. She made her way down the stairs and into the empty dining room. The clang of pots and pans and the giggling voices of maids echoed from the kitchen. Dinner had been hours ago, and since Ulrich had had the decency to buy out the inn for the night, there were no other guests lingering about. She went to the hearth and pulled up a chair next to the dying embers. A shiver ran through her, and she pulled her cloak even tighter around her nightdress.

Now that she was fully alone, her annoyance began to fade, replaced with the full weight of what lurked just beneath it: loneliness.

Mareleau had never considered herself a friendly person. The last friend she’d had—a former lady’s maid named Katra—had dallied with one of her suitors. She wouldn’t have cared much, had the man not been the only person she’d been even remotely attracted to after Larylis. The memory filled her with guilt now that she and Larylis were together at last, but at the time, that mild attraction had felt like hope. What Katra had done had broken something inside her. She hadn’t realized it before. She’d been too preoccupied with the Heart’s Hunt. Then the threat of war. Then her plot to marry Larylis.

In the wake of everything she’d won and everything she’d risked, now that she was away from the man she loved and the two parents who despised her, she felt that gaping void like never before. It was a hollow ache, one that made her shrink into herself as if that could close it.

She hugged her arms around her torso, then startled as the kitchen doors swung open. In an instant, she sat up straight, evoking her magic trick to help her appear calm. Collected. Regal. A maid left the kitchen, arms full of clean plates, and tossed a snide remark over her shoulder. It was met with much laughter from the other maids. As the girl fully entered the dining room, she caught sight of Mareleau. The smile disappeared from her face. In a rush, she set the plates on the counter and hurried to Mareleau. With a low curtsy, she said, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. We weren’t expecting anyone to be awake. What can I get for you?”

“It’s all right,” Mareleau said curtly. “I need nothing but what you cannot provide.”

The girl took that as her dismissal and scurried back into the kitchen. Mareleau heard no more giggles or gossip from behind the door after that. She settled back into her chair, sulking into the backrest, and reached into her cloak. From within, she withdrew a folded piece of parchment. The sight of her name written in a familiar script was enough to fill her heart with warmth and longing in equal measure. Larylis had pressed the letter into her hand before she’d left Dermaine for her journey north. She’d waited until she’d been alone the first night before reading it. Gods, was she glad that she did. For no sooner than she’d read the first sentence had her chest heaved with a sob.

With a deep breath, she opened it now. Tears welled in her eyes as she read the words her heart had already committed to memory.

Mareleau,

For all the letters we didn’t write over the last three years, I will write you a thousand more. For every kiss we didn’t share while we were apart, I will give you a million kisses more. And every moment you doubt my love, remember my heart is yours. These seconds may be torture while you’re away, but my love will only grow.

It will grow, Mareleau.

I will be waiting.

Writing.

Loving you.

Forever and always yours,

Larylis

She reread the words over and over until her eyes were raw and her lungs were sore from silent sobbing. When she could no longer handle being so ridiculously pathetic, she refolded the paper with care and tucked it back into her pocket. Wiping at the moisture on her cheeks, she stood to return to her room—only to sink back into her seat as the dining room door opened.

The old innkeeper entered, followed by a hooded traveler. Mareleau kept still in her chair, hoping they wouldn’t notice her in the dark room. After crying like a wailing babe, she had no desire to speak to anyone, nor did she have the energy to control her composure. “We weren’t expecting you, Your Highness,” the innkeeper said, his tone laced with anxiety. “You didn’t arrive with the others.”

“Others?”

Mareleau’s spine went rigid. The voice was gratingly familiar. She turned in her seat, getting a clearer look at the newcomer as the innkeeper led him through the dining room. Sure enough, just as they turned toward the stairs, she caught sight of his profile.

She rose to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Teryn startled. With a frown, he faced her.

The innkeeper shrank down, eyes darting between the two of them. “Is the prince not of your party, Your Majesty?”

“That depends,” she said through her teeth. “Did he come alone?” Hope threatened to swell in her chest as she awaited his answer. Please say Larylis is here. Please.

“Yes, I came alone.”

Her heart plummeted to her feet, and rage funneled in its place. “No, he does not belong to my party, and my uncle gave you orders not to allow anyone else to stay here tonight.”

The innkeeper opened his mouth but Teryn spoke first. “Might I have a word with the queen?”

She lifted her chin, tempted to deny him. She wasn’t even sure what drove her sudden rage. Teryn was only guilty of the same crime she’d always accused him of. Not being Larylis. But he wasn’t a threat to her happiness anymore, was he?

“Very well,” she said.

The innkeeper bowed low and rushed from the room as if he were eager to be anywhere else.

Mareleau repeated her question. “What are you doing here?”

Teryn gave her a bewildered look. “What are you doing here? Ulrich has you staying at an inn? I thought you’d be hosted by nobles.”

She crossed her arms. “You don’t need to rub it in. Besides, I asked you first. I am your queen, remember?”

He glanced around the empty room, then released a heavy breath. “I’m heading for Ridine to speak with Princess Aveline. I’d meant to follow behind your retinue and arrive afterward, but it appears I’ve caught up too quickly. Promise me you won’t tell your uncle I’m here.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I was ordered to go on this journey against my will, and you were told to remain at Dermaine. Why should I, the queen, follow orders while you get to break them? Why should I be separated from my husband—” She cut off as her voice broke on the last word.

His face softened. “Larylis wishes he were with you, trust me. I haven’t seen him so morose, since…ever. He doesn’t want to risk going against your father. I, on the other hand, have less to lose. For now.”

She averted her gaze. “It isn’t fair, you know.”

“I know it isn’t.” He took a few steps closer. “I also understand why you resent me. If I’d known about you and Larylis…” His lips quirked into a wry grin, one that reminded her too much of his brother. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I never wanted to marry you either. I found the prospect just as awful as you did.”

She was overcome with a sudden urge to bark a laugh. Her animosity softened at the edges, making her wonder if Teryn hadn’t been her enemy all along.

“Can we be allies? We are brother and sister now. Plus, you owe me.” His smile turned devious.

She could tell he was teasing, but she didn’t feel generous enough to play along. Instead, she pursed her lips and burned him with a scowl.

He wasn’t the least bit cowed. “Don’t you agree? I helped you marry the love of your life.”

That managed to weaken her resolve.

“Can I count on you to keep my presence here a secret from your uncle? I promise not to show up at your next stop. I’ll simply stick to far finer establishments.”

She snorted a begrudging laugh at that. “That will certainly keep you from wherever Ulrich has me sleeping.”

He raised a brow, reminding her she had yet to answer his question.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I won’t tell Ulrich.” It was almost painful to say. Everything inside her wanted to see him punished as badly as her. But she reminded herself of what he’d given up. He’d abdicated, set aside his crown, his birthright, for Larylis. To clear the final obstacle that had kept them from being together. Uncrossing her arms, she let her shoulders relax and tried to smile. All she managed was a grimace. “So…I have a brother now?”

“Unfortunately for us both, you do.”

“Ugh. I never wanted one.” She brushed past him and ascended the stairs. Despite her abrupt last words to him, she was surprised to find the aching void in her heart had lessened. Whether it was due to reading Larylis’ letter or entertaining the prospect of having a new—albeit unwanted—brother, she knew not. All she knew was that, as she climbed back into bed between her annoyingly peaceful lady’s maids, she felt a little less alone.