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Eleven Years Ago

Nina, Age Eight

Nina’s lips bunched as she stared at herself in the vanity mirror of her bedroom. She pulled forward as her eldest sister, Willa, tugged Nina’s deep, vivid auburn red hair into a tight braid.

“Sit still,” Willa said. She had a way of sounding like their mother—firm but kind. Given the two sisters were fifteen years apart, Willa a proper adult, the behavior was practically inevitable. Still, Nina wished her sister would be a little gentler with the braiding.

“I would if you stopped yanking,” Nina protested.

Willa sighed but kept at it, deftly weaving Nina’s hair between her fingers. Nina begrudgingly sat still—she did want her hair done, after all.

Willa’s ring snagged on hair, Nina’s hand flying up to soothe her stinging scalp.

“Damn it!” Nina said.

Willa gave Nina a hard look in the mirror. “Is that any way for a princess to speak?”

Nina glanced down, a quiet “No” falling from her lips.

Willa nodded, satisfied, and continued, but slower. Nina was grateful Willa took more care braiding the strands. Without the constant tug-of-war on her scalp, Nina relaxed, imagining the finished look.

Dressing up was a particular pleasure for Nina, especially when it was for the Forest Ball, her favorite day of the year. It concluded the Forest Festival, a weeklong ordeal with feasts and markets and games, all in the forest behind Bergspeer Castle, her family’s home. It was the only time of year every social class could mingle together as equals and no one questioned it or told anyone to stay their own course. A shame it was the only true time. It was fun to have everyone interact. It made people happy, and it meant more opportunity for friendships. Why the adults—especially the nobles—didn’t see that was a mystery to Nina.

Bryn sat swinging her legs over the side of Nina’s bed. Nina didn’t think you were supposed to have a favorite sibling, the way parents weren’t supposed to have a favorite child, but nonetheless, Bryn was hers. Having eleven sisters was bound to result in picking favorites. It was definitely needed when most of them made it clear they’d only ever see you as the baby of the family, in need of coddling. But never Bryn. She never made Nina feel young even though Bryn was two years older. Technically, Kat—the only sister between her and Bryn—didn’t make her feel young, either, but Nina and Kat were more good friends than best friends.

“You’ll do mine next, right Willa?” Bryn asked.

Willa chuckled. “Of course. But you’ll need to learn how to do it yourself at some point.”

“Isn’t that what attendants are for?” Nina asked. Some of her sisters believed attendants were necessary for everything, but despite asking the question, Nina preferred the idea of being independent. At least, once she knew how to do things herself. Until then, she’d much prefer her sister doing her hair. It wouldn’t do to show up for a ball looking like she’d been attacked by a flock of angry pigeons.

“Everyone with hair long enough to braid should know how to put it out of their face. It’s a useful skill.” She tapped Nina’s head with a pin, causing the youngest to giggle. Her deep brown hair was in a braided crown, which she’d done herself. “Now, how about that dress?”

For this year’s Ball, Nina had chosen a gown of varying greens with clear jewels laced in. The one she’d worn last year, a silky red dress with golden thread, had been donated to someone in the city, someone who otherwise wouldn’t be able to afford one for this year’s Ball. Another thing she liked about the event. In any case, she liked this dress much better—her favorite color was green, the fabric was luxuriously soft around her legs, and the skirt looked like an enchanted forest floor when she twirled. Once donned, she couldn’t stop twirling, laughing from the sheer joy of it in the empty family sitting room. Bryn, twirling next to her in an airy, soft-pink dress, laughed with her. A midnight-blue-bedecked Willa watched, smiling covertly.

The clearing of a throat halted the twirling.

King Wilhelm, a stern-looking man with graying dark brown hair and all-knowing brown eyes, stared down at his two young daughters.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. The guards behind the king shared a panicked glance. They were new. They didn’t get it.

“We were just twirling, Papa,” Bryn said. Nina nodded emphatically.

“You should refrain from doing so.” Their father’s tone was serious, but the guards couldn’t see the glint in his eyes the way his daughters could.

King Wilhelm walked over to one of the settees, stripping it of its cushions. “Not without these, anyway.” He threw the cushions to the floor, breaking into a large grin and transforming the stern king into the fun father. “I learned from experience as a boy that it’s much better to spin when you don’t have to worry about a hard floor after a dizzy spell.”

He grasped both girls by the hands and twirled them anew. Nina shrieked in delight when he let go, sending her sprawling on the nearest cushion.

“Father, you’ll ruin their hair!” Willa cried, suppressing a laugh.

“Ah yes, you are right, my dear.” He scooped Nina and Bryn off the floor, smoothing their hair back in place with his large, comforting hands. “There. No one will know.” He winked before turning to the guards. “The rest of the royal family is waiting in the entry. You’ll escort us all to the Ball.” He looked at his children. “Shall we go see your sisters?”

“Is there anyone you want to dance with, Willa?” Bryn asked as they walked. Nina didn’t understand why Bryn would get so wistful when talking about this kind of thing, but it was fun watching her get excited.

“There are some guests from neighboring countries I’ve heard intriguing things about,” Willa said.

“There are quite a few young men who’ll be in attendance,” Papa said, smiling. “I’d be happy to introduce you. Perhaps one will be marriageable.”

Nina pretended to gag, sticking her tongue out behind their father’s back. Bryn saw and rolled her eyes. Nina didn’t remember much of the way it used to be, but she’d once heard her oldest sisters whisper that Papa had begun taking a more relaxed approach when it came to finding matches for his daughters. Whatever the approach was before must have been decent, though—Nina quite liked the three brothers-in-law she already had.

“And Anselm?” Bryn asked. Papa smiled brighter.

It was about a year since Bryn had almost drowned, and when Willa had tried to save her, she’d almost been pulled under too. Anselm, a soldier, had rushed in to the rescue. He’d instantly taken to Willa and stayed around to make sure Bryn recovered.

Willa’s fair cheeks, the same shade as Bryn’s and their mother’s, turned a deep pink. Mention of Anselm always made her blush. “I suppose I wouldn’t be upset if he made an appearance. But what about you?” Willa turned it back on Bryn. “Do you want to dance with anyone?”

Bryn smiled in that way of hers when she thought about romantic things. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And you, Nina?”

Nina definitely wanted to find someone to dance with. Partner dances were the best way to make new friends—or, so she imagined. She had no friends apart from her sisters. At the Forest Ball, when she had the chance to meet people, all the children would stop being personal and become distant when they realized she was one of the princesses, like they were scared of offending her or were intimidated by her title. Those budding friendships never lasted more than an hour. Even the children of nobles held her at arms’ length, taught to handle Nina not with kid gloves, but with royal gloves. Only a month ago, she’d been introduced to one of her brothers-in-law’s twin and his twin’s wife, a count and countess in the north. Their daughter, the same age as Nina, brought Nina to the garden, where they played with dolls. Nina had been perfectly content, hopes high, when Astrid, one of Nina’s sisters, paraded past, declaring she was much too mature for such childish games. Nina rolled her eyes and, when Astrid was out of earshot, proceeded to explain her Astrid-related woes to her new friend.

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” Nina asked. “Bryn thinks I’m overreacting. But Astrid doesn’t tease her like she does me.”

The girl shrugged and focused on her doll. “I can’t say, Your Highness.”

Nina’s arm, held up with the doll she was pretending was flying, fell. A familiar, dreaded weight plunked in her chest. “You don’t have to use my title, you know. Nina is fine. And I want your opinion. That’s what friends share.”

The girl avoided Nina’s gaze, which only made the weight worse, an overflowing bucket heavy with scalding water. “I’m not to get involved with royal things. My mama says it’s not my place.”

“But friends share things. How can we be friends if we can’t share things?”

The girl still didn’t look at her. “It’s not my place,” she whispered.

The weight, that bucket, spilled, flooding Nina with uneasy, sharp heat. She dropped the doll and raced inside. She sat with Kat for the rest of the afternoon, tucked away in the library.

She cursed her title. Was it too much to ask to find someone who wanted to be her friend and not Princess Nina’s companion?

Now, she was determined. Nina would find someone and not reveal who she was. It would be simple enough—she would find a partner on the side of the dance floor away from the entry to avoid them seeing her arrive with her family, and then not tell them her name. People came from all over, and everyone was dressed for the occasion. She wouldn’t stand out, not at the Forest Ball. She’d make a friend, even if it was only for the night.

“I just want to dance,” Nina said, keeping the rest of her secret to herself.

In the entry hall, where light-gray stone was painted with color from the high stained glass windows spilling forth endless summer light, their mother advanced toward them. The rest of Nina’s sisters remained chatting by the doors, as excited as she was.

“Willa, dear, you look stunning,” their mother, Queen Clara, said once she’d reached them.

Willa smoothed her hands down her wide hips, smiling. Bryn echoed the movement, adjusting the skirt that fell around a matching rounded frame.

Their mother caught the gesture and turned even softer. “And Brynhild, my darling, so do you.” She cupped Bryn’s cheek. The two of them were a picture of mirrored coloring, blond hair and sky blue eyes, while Nina had taken more of their father’s features.

Mama turned to Nina next, somehow getting even softer. Nina played with her own skirt simply to give her agitated hands something to do.

She knew what was coming.

“My beautiful baby.” Mama’s words were choked, like she was trying not to cry.

Honestly, didn’t Mama realize calling Nina a baby was a hit to her pride? But Nina held back her grimace as her mother fussed over her, standing firm as Mama used a licked thumb to remove whatever smidgeon of food Nina had missed on her cheek. Nina’s ears heated, and she locked her arms in place so she wouldn’t swat Mama’s hand away. If there was anything Nina disliked the thought of more than being made to feel younger than she was, it was hurting Mama’s feelings.

“Alright, girls!” their mother shouted when she’d finished, bringing the room to a hush. “Who’s ready for the Ball?”

Nina gasped when they reached the forest. The glade—surrounded by ancient pines and leafy trees that wove into a canopy above everyone’s heads—was decorated with sparkling lanterns and glass baubles and gilded leaves. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes, and there was so much food that Nina’s mouth watered. Strudel and jam cookies and sausages and schnitzel all called her name. But a partner dance started—not even giving her time to have a group dance with her sisters—and she was off to the other side of the dance floor. She stood on her toes, trying to see through the throng of people to find a good match. She might want to make a new friend, but she did want them to be someone interesting .

A light tap on her shoulder made her swivel, bringing her nose-to-nose with a boy she’d never seen before. She didn’t quite understand crushes, but for the first time, she thought maybe she could. He was about her age, with a light dusting of freckles across his pale nose, less in number than those on her cheeks but still noticeable. His brown hair looked wonderfully soft. And he looked startled by how quickly she’d turned, his forest green eyes round like tea plates. Nina giggled. She liked that she’d startled him.

“Do you want to dance?” His voice went a little higher with each word. He was nervous. Nina didn’t know what to do with nervous. But she wanted to figure it out.

“Alright.”

She pulled him to the edge of the glade, her family nowhere in sight. She held up her arm for the first position, waiting for him to do the same. He did know how to dance, didn’t he? He had asked her.

But to her delight, he knew how to dance even better than she could have hoped. And the more he danced, the less nervous he became, turning more confident and smiley. She returned his with her own, making him blush. When the song ended, Nina desperately wished for another partner dance so she could keep dancing with this boy.

Instead, he bowed, signaling the end. “Thank you for the dance.” He had a strong musical lilt to his voice—not from Fenwald then. Definitely Cunlaran. She beamed. Even though she was required to learn about her country’s closest ally in her studies, she actually liked learning about it. Astrid called it Nina’s obsession.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be over.” She told herself it was because he was Cunlaran that she’d said it. Not because this was a crush.

He cocked his head, a piece of hair falling into his eyes. By the Faith, is this what thinking someone looked cute felt like?

“The musicians are taking a break,” he said.

“You seem like an interesting person.” She stuck her hand out. “I like interesting people. I like talking to them, too.”

He stared at her hand before grinning broadly, lighting up his whole face and revealing a missing tooth. He grasped her forearm. “I could talk to a fellow interesting person, I guess.”

She dragged him over behind a cluster of trees, where no one else was. From what she’d seen, her family still wasn’t paying her any attention. This was working perfectly. She could have this friendship just for herself, no strings to her family and no condescension around her age.

His eyes gleamed as they settled in, like they were sharing a secret. Nina wondered if he could be as mischievous as she could. The thought made her warm up to him even more, and before she knew it, she was talking his ear off. No details about her life, exactly, but about the Ball, and her favorite things. His entire focus was on her. Like he wanted to know everything.

She found herself lapping up the details he shared, too. None were private things, like he took her lead on that. It was sweet. And even if they weren’t private things, they still felt important, like every piece of information mattered. She promised herself to commit everything he shared to memory: his favorite story, the music he liked and his perfect pitch, his fear of sharks. Something about the moment felt significant. She didn’t want to take that for granted.

And he laughed so freely. Never once did he apologize for saying something unfit for a princess to hear—though why would he? He had no way of knowing what she was. Her skin hummed pleasantly, sparks jolting through her at the rush of having found someone she liked to be around as plain old Nina.

It was only once the sun began its slow summer descent that he bowed once more. She giggled and played along, giving him her best curtsy.

“I really do have to go this time,” he said, frowning.

“I understand,” Nina said, looking toward the dancers to hide her disappointment. But as he backed away, she caught his eye. He left her with a final smile before darting through the trees.

She hoped her new friend would attend next year, and she could get another chance to just be herself.