Page 2 of The Ostler's Boy

Five Years Later

T he smell of burnt flesh never quite left my memory. I could barely recall the sound of metal tinging against rock, my skirt ripping, Willem’s screams, or even how the crevices of Miss Hellveig’s cruel intent shaped her face, but I remembered, perfectly, the God-awful scent of skin and heat. It appeared in everyday things, like rotating chicken over a tiny flame in the kitchen. My stomach churned if I stopped to acknowledge the similarity for too long.

Ser Elías was by my side and on his duteous guard. With my eighteenth birthday and the Treaty’s impending fruition, whispers of a threat had come, too. Despite the promise of peace by marriage, the haze of uncertainty and Chalke’s traditionally misogynistic inhabitants lingered in the air. He checked high and checked low, and he checked every face that came and went around me in every room, fueled by the same paranoia that cursed my father. Until my wedding night, I would suffer it, and out of respect, I would do so brightly, even when the only enemies were the new cook and a nervously well-meaning footman, who constantly asked for directions from the knights.

“Will there be a non- bird option?” I asked Ms. Krog. “Something less… recently alive?”

She frowned. “I can try, young miss. Er, Your Highness.” She squinted, watching as I nudged the Lord Commander off scowling at the boy. “I could perhaps construct you a hearty sort of salad?”

“For breakfast?” I asked. I didn’t catch her response, whispering to Elías instead. “That one’s been here at least a month. Leave him alone.”

“You insult me,” he whispered back. “I’ve never forgotten a face. He just looks strange today.”

“Strange? Really, Eli? He’s fourteen at best. Men’s faces grow long at that age. Besides, how is he supposed to look with you inspecting him so?”

“Your Highness,” Ms. Krog chimed. “I will find something for you, I promise.” She took a bowl from one of the other girls and moved around the counter. “But it is the morning rush, so if it pleases you, we have much to do before the hour. Your father is having the Baron for lunch.”

Elías sighed. “Yes, we are well aware,” he said. He urged me toward the door. “I’m sure we can find someone else to harass, ma’am. Don’t fuss over the Princess; I’ll see her fed in town.”

“Oh, you’ll see me fed, will you?” I checked. “How kind. Just like the dog I am.”

He exhaled, unamused, and the cook looked utterly distraught.

“Lovely, isn’t he?” I asked her. “You know he’s looking for a wife–”

Elías grabbed my arm and basically shoved me into the hall. I could not help but giggle.

“What?” I joked. “You don’t think I’m funny?”

“Hilarious, Princess,” he said. His voice was flat.

“Oh, is she not pretty enough?” I asked.

Elías said, “Mrs. Krog is married.”

I laughed. “Oh!”

“It’s not funny; you’ve insulted her,” he said.

“I meant no harm; she knows that.”

“Does she?” he asked.

He was quiet down the corridor, but in the yard, he added, “I was going to take you by the Rusty Arrow, but since you insist upon being a thorn in my side–”

“Does that make you a lion, then?” I asked.

He clicked his tongue.

“I’m joking,” I replied.

“Again, saying it’s a joke does not erase the offense. Have you lost your mind or just your manners?”

“I–”

“Is it me you’re cross with?” he asked. “Or the situation?”

“Oh, do let me have my fun, Ser.”

“And it’s the lion’s paw; if you’re going to reference it, read it, won’t you?”

I paused. “His paw? No it wasn’t?”

Elías looked at me. He was right.

I shifted on my feet and shrugged. “Fine. It’s the situation. It’s not like I’m excited to marry a stranger, let alone the son of the man who has been at war with my father for twenty years. You, however, could hardly injure me, Eli. You know you’re my favorite Blade. What good would an argument do? And anyway, soon, I won’t be your problem anymore,” I said.

The comment made him frown. “You’re not anyone’s problem, Svana.”

“Not yet, I’m not,” I said. “But the day is young. I’m sure I can rustle up some trouble if I put my mind to it.”

“Your mother would be proud,” he said. “But please don’t.”

I thought about his loyalty. It was overzealous at times, but our friendship had truly sprouted from a tragedy, and one could argue it was born in danger. While our age disparity made some conversations difficult in terms of interests, it was real. Elías made an effort to remember my preferences, and he made sure that he was always with me in new things. He taught me about life, and about justice and duty, and he taught me to play chess while my father was too busy working. He also promised to remain by my side for my required two weeks in Chalke, and as I had never left Oreia, that made the looming dread of one day Queen less terrifying. I was unstoppable with him on my board. Chalke would see that. My soon-to-be husband, Prince Sameer, would see it, and they would see that I was not a pawn.

The Lord Commander was a proud and noble sort, basically the perfect knight. He was hyper-vigilant to the concept of morality, and blunt, but that made him fair and easy to read. I never had to guess if he was blowing smoke up my skirt because he would never attempt to lie to me, and he was far too chivalrous to ever travel anywhere near my dress. Though his ideals of modesty did extend far into the realm of etiquette, honor, and most annoyingly, my virtue, to him, I was a child, maybe even his child, and I needed protecting. Even if he did see me as a woman, he would never intend to corrupt me, despite the rumors I’d heard of his youth and admirers during the Games.

At the end of our path, he hummed, investigating the sky. “The weather does not look particularly fond of our plans. We should make haste before we’re caught in its wrath.”

“Do these roses look alright to you?” I moved from one bush to another, delicately touching their buds.

“I’m far from a gardener, I’m afraid.”

“Aye. No one would accuse you of that,” I told him. “But do they look tired? I’m worried they won’t bloom while I’m gone.”

“Can a plant be tired?” he asked.

“Can’t everything?” I returned.

He glanced at the stem. “It’s barely spring; there’s still snow. Give them time.”

A crack of thunder bolstered my attention to the rolling clouds where he had pointed before.

“We can check on them when we return,” he advised. “For now, find yourself a place by the fire. I’ll have Miss Jocelyn stow your things, and it would be good for you to re-familiarize yourself with the Azarii line before we leave.”

I nodded but dismissed his suggestion. “I’m sure I’ve studied the Prince’s family more times than my eyes can bear without bleeding. If the itch should arise, I will have plenty of time to revisit it on the road to Rothingham. ...I hope the weather keeps. Will our horses trek through this snow?”

“Yes,” he said. “Once we cross into the Riverlands, you’ll see a shift in climate. The closer we get to Chalke, the warmer it’ll be. You won't find ice in the south.”

“The Riverlands?” I asked. “Are we not stopping in North áire first?”

“Once we return.”

“What of my title ceremony?” I asked.

“It’s more a formality. His Majesty moved it back,” he explained.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“It makes more sense, prioritizing Rothingham, where you’ll be married. We’ll pass through the Riverlands on our way there, then back again when we return. Then we will visit your duchy and stay in Dawne for a few days as a courtesy to your aunt.”

“How lovely that His Majesty told me of such a dramatic change,” I muttered.

“I’m sure he meant to,” he said. “The Crown can be overwhelming. He must have forgotten.”

“I’m sure.” I nodded. “...Is there really no ice in the Riverlands?” I asked. “Now? Or ever? Wait. Does... Does Chalke not have snow? Do they have rain?”

“Rarely do we get snow in the Riverlands; yes, Chalke has rain. They’re well-known for their showery summers,” he said. “In fact, it will likely rain the entire time we’re there and well after. Until mid-July, I’d guess.”

“Mid-July?” I begged. “That’s months from now!”

“And why your wedding is in August and so far from your birthday.”

I smiled weakly before he could comment on my response; I mirrored his frown. “Is it superstition that drives the date? Or a tradition of some sort?” I asked.

“Most traditions are born in superstition, but if I think about it, I believe there is a phrase, yes. ‘Rain on your wedding day, tears in every way.’”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Oreian lore says rain is a sign of fertility. Of growing the seed of love.”

“Alas, there is no curse for sunny days in either land, so you’ll have to settle for the nice weather,” he remarked.

“Unless it rains in August anyway,” I replied.

Elías cocked his head. “Do you have everything you need for the trip?”

“I picked out several dresses,” I replied. “But those were for Dawne. Now I’m concerned. I had anticipated cold winds and snow this time of year. And I shall revise them shortly, but for now, I have been waiting for His Majesty to become available. I have some lingering concerns.”

“Such as?”

“What? I can’t ask him myself?” I asked.

“You know Nikolai will redirect you to me,” he said.

“I just,” I stopped. “What if I muck this up?”

“Muck what up?” he asked.

“I don’t know. All of it? What if the Prince doesn’t like me?”

“Do you like him?” he checked.

“I–Well, what if I don’t understand taxes as well as I hope? What if the court is sore the King hasn’t arrived with our party? What if-?”

Elías nodded. “I see. Your fears are valid; I acknowledge them, but they are not helpful for the task at hand. Remember, I’ll be with you the entire time, and a fortnight will not be the end of Svana Eisson’s reign, no matter how terribly it goes.”

“That’s not helpful either,” I said. “Do you think it’ll go terribly?”

“Nah. I have it on good authority that the Princess is a force to be reckoned with, so if His Highness does not like her? I pity him. He must learn to hide it or suffer her mother’s razor wit.”

“You think I’m as smart as my mother?” I grinned.

“Sharper sometimes,” he said.

“Now I know you’re lying.” I struck his arm playfully. “Who says I’m a force?”

“The future Queen herself, at least twenty dozen times since she was old enough to speak.”

“Oof. She sounds awful,” I said. “Blink once if you’re being held here against your will.”

He didn’t. “Only a man who fears his better would think you were awful. We will be fine in Chalke. Come, let’s find your father, Princess.”

“You think I should voice my concerns after all?” I asked. “You said he’d appoint you to them.”

“I think you should speak to His Majesty if you wish. We’ll be leaving soon, and two weeks is a long time to be away from your parent,” he said.

“Oh,” I groaned. “You think I’ll miss him.”

“Won’t you?” he asked.

“He won’t miss me,” I said.

We hurried up the winding cobblestone to the large iron gate and ivory stone horses that guarded the door just as it began to sleet.

“Remember, Your Highness. The Crown is your right by birth. We’ve always known God handpicked the lineage, and he chose the Eisson House to reign, to wage and to win the War. He has chosen you to lead Oreia into her future.”

The doorman closed us in the darkening foyer, and I dropped my cloak off to him.

“I hope I do not disappoint the Lord, then,” I said. “Though I must admit, your reminder is barely encouraging. The weight of being part of such a grand scheme might actually add a certain heft to it now that you’ve said it aloud like that.”

“Heavy is the Crown.” He chuckled.

“Why are you laughing , old man?”

Eli sighed. “Never mind. Better were the days when you were not so resistant to my optimism.”

“I don’t remember those days,” I argued. “I’ve always strived to be very pessimistic, a trait I inherited from your example; I thank you. It’s truly an art lost upon the everyday man, and I have to work very hard at maintaining it, you know?”

“That is because Oreian folk are of sound mind. They would fail to see the benefit of such negativity,” he said.

“And what of Chalke folk? Of Chalke men? Are they optimistic, too? I’m nervous to meet mine,” I confessed. “I was not jesting when I listed his reception of me as a worry, and I don’t think I’m being irrational before you accuse me of it. The peace between our empires literally rests upon my shoulders. Upon my ring hand, really. Oreia’s future relies strictly upon how positive my union is. So. Pray, I ask. What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Svana. Relax. You don’t have to like someone for a marriage to work. You have to understand and respect them. Besides, I’ve heard no rumors of insanity. And the few times I’ve met him, he seemed…”

I noted his wandering gaze. “He seemed what?”

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?” I scoffed. “Your mercy, what does fine entail?”

“I imagine you’ll see for yourself in a few days,” he said.

“In six and a half months, I am meant to pledge myself to this man for all eternity, and fine, fine is what you say? Am I to what? To twiddle my fingers diligently and pray to God that fine at the least means he’s kind? Or attractive? I would take that, too. ”

Eli ignored it. “I have heard no rumors of a temper.” He shook his head and, with it, his amusement. He followed me deeper into the castle as I complained. “I would say he is quite liked.”

“Yes, but-” I huffed. “Is he a creature of some sort?”

“A creature, Princess?”

“Yes. A monster?” I asked.

“Physically?” he checked.

“Personally, but– Is he ugly?” I asked. “You can tell me.”

“Is that what matters to you?” he asked. “After all this time, my efforts to ensure you were not so shallow, you–”

“No!” I said. “No! It’s not… It’s not important or anything. I just–Okay? Does he hate reading? Or children? Or does he practice the dark arts? Or, like, worship taxidermy?” I asked. “You cannot leave me with fine, Elías! My mind fills in the blanks of what you will not say!”

“Your priorities concern me,” he said. “Taxidermy?”

“It could be a hobby of his,” I explained. “But I shall be left to discover that on our honeymoon because you cannot elaborate beyond fine and choose to scold me for caring if he’s hideous. Many women would care!”

“I’ve heard nothing of taxidermy, Princess. However, hunting is a beloved sport in Chalke. He does partake.”

“Hunting is not stuffing animal bodies for one’s pleasure; it’s… Well, it’s a beloved sport here, too, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

“You hunt,” I said. “Everyone hunts. There’s a whole day devoted to— Ugh! As it appears to me, you’ve heard nothing at all. No tales of his beauty or warm heart, nor rumors of the opposite. How will I know how bleak my prospects are, with so little as fine?”

“Perhaps ‘fine’ was not the appropriate word. If you’re so concerned about his personality, why have you not written him? You could’ve asked for character traits or even a portrait.”

I started a few times, trying to find a better response to his question, but I settled on a ragged “Oof!” and then asked, “Why would I write him to ask for a portrait?”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because!” I said. “Because…” I fumbled for an excuse. “Because it’s rude. And if I did write the Prince, then he would have time to consider the words of his reply. I would not receive an honest impression of him. And the portrait is not important. It’s just my attempt to pry information out of you, but you’re sealed tighter than a bloody fortress.”

“Language, Svana,” he said. He paused. “Assuming His Highness is a liar, you’re right. But the Prince has an outstanding reputation.”

“Miss Hellveig had an outstanding reputation.”

Elías’s face clouded.

“As strict as she was beautiful. That’s what they said, and it was true. If strict meant cruel.”

He held back a comment, quickly departing from the subject. “And what if the Prince is wondering if you’re a creature? Or the silly sort of girl who worries about his hobbies and assumes he collects and stuffs dead animals? Taxidermy is a valuable trade. Many lords pay for their trophies’ preservation, you know?”

“I vaguely see your point, Ser, though I have not yet decided if I shall heed to it. And I do hope my husband thinks of me as something more than just a girl. For all our sakes.”

“I’m sure he will. In six month’s time.”

I rolled my eyes at his instance. “The Prince did not write me either,” I said. “I can only surmise that he is looking forward to an honest introduction as well. Perhaps he’s the mindful type?”

“There. The worry has resolved itself. Now we can–”

“But what if he–”

“Svana, please,” Elías said. “Everything will be fine.”

“Fine?” I asked. “Fine?”

“I meant great,” he pleaded. “I meant, you are such a fun gir–woman, I meant woman, to be around. You’re close in age. You could have married an old duke. But His Highness, he’s young. I’m certain you will like each other in some way as the young do, and all will be well.”

I eased. “...You’re a sap.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. How dare you soothe me. But thank you. Also, I should leave you here with Ser Willoughby for making me feel good about myself and future. The two of you could engage in night after night of mindless sentiments possessing no purpose, the same as every word from his mouth, and that would serve you right for your offense.”

“Be kind,” he told me. “Ser Willoughby is?—”

“Dull . As far as Blades go,” I said.

“Your second cousin and still learning,” he replied. “He’s also just ascended to the Kingsguard. It’s not easy being appointed so soon in one’s career. I should know.”

“The other day, I watched him stumble in place while speaking to my new maid. He’s dull,” I said. “In fact, so dull, he–”

“ Your Highness?”

Certainly, by chance, the man I’d been insulting’s voice called from behind me. I stood frozen in my humiliation for an entire second before widening my eyes to feign an underserved innocence to turn around.

“Ser Willoughby,” I said back. “How delightful. I was just telling Ser Elías...that, uh, you should sharpen your sword. It’s shocking how dull it is.”

We stared at one another until he looked oddly at his blade. It was still sheathed and fixed to his belt.

“Beg pardon, Your Highness,” Willoughby said. “I’ll apply mineral oil straight away.”

“Did you require my attention for something?” I asked. “Or were you just lurking?”

“ ...You requested to be informed when His Majesty had found a break from his work.”

I waited for the rest of his thought. “... And is that now?” I asked.

“Aye, yes, Your High-”

“Right. Thank you!” I hooked Elías by the bend of his arm and carted him past the man. “Do you think he heard me?” I conspired.

“Yes.”

“You do?” I hissed.

“Aye, but if he did, he’d never say,” Elías said.

“That’s even worse,” I said.

“You could apologize,” Eli returned.

“But if he didn’t hear me, then I would be confessing to something he knows nothing of,” I whispered.

“Let’s just find your father,” he said.

“Right. Father. Right. There are a number of things I need to express, starting first with how soon I can return. How do I do that?”

“ Might I speak candidly?” he asked.

“Like you have to ask,” I said. We stopped just shy of the study. He kept his voice low.

“This is your first real trial as Heir Apparent, Svana. Shelve the daughter; speak to His Majesty as the future Queen, and leave out your insecurities. You don’t want him to worry he’s failed to prepare you for this.”

“But he didn’t prepare me,” I buzzed. “You did.”

“Not something I’d ever let him hear you say.”

“Fine,” I moaned, lifting my chin. “I’ll resist. For you.” But anxious, I touched the crown woven across my head . “Do I look alright?”

“Your mother’s mirror.”

Elías leaned his back against the corridor wall near an old oil rendering of the King, and I entered the room alone. The study was mostly books, some stacked in towers at various parts of the chamber, others used as weights to pin the corners of maps against their surfaces. My father loved maps.

“Your Majesty?” I asked quietly.

He was scribbling in his journal, his emerald plume scratching back and forth distractingly. At the end of his thought, he took a jagged breath and paused, perhaps a sigh for my interruption. Then, he looped a final word and dotted his punctuation before looking up from it.

“That rusty suit of armor said you were waiting on me,” he said.

“Who?” I asked.

“The tall one,” he replied.

“Ser Willoughby?” I asked. He nodded. “Does he have red hair? I thought it was more blond.”

“What?”

“You called it rust… Nevermind. Good morning, sir,” I said.

“What is it that you need?” Father asked. He took another painfully deep, painfully obvious inhale.

“You’re tired,” I said. He ignored the comment. “You are. No surprise there. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends, Your Majesty. You should rest.”

Very plainly, he replied, “I will rest when I’m dead, Svana. However, I have too much work to do. So, on with it. What do you need?”

“But–”

The leather groaned as he sat back in his chair. “Should you not have left by now?” He gestured toward the window with his quill. “It’s nearly noon.”

“Aye, yes. It is nearly noon, but,” I stopped, then suddenly had to clear my throat. I glanced at his book.

“Would you like to know what I'm working on?” he asked.

“Some sort of reform?” I guessed. I tried to remind myself of Elías’s advice.

“It’s far more important than that,” he said.

“Your Majesty, I have some concerns.”

“About the trip?” he asked. “Or the quorum?” He set the pen down to steeple his hands.

I was scared of him, of his opinion, of saying stupid words and being labeled as their equal, of the eight and ten years that had come for me, and of the fact that no magical veil of confidence had accompanied them. I had been convinced it would, but it hadn’t, and I was petrified by what that meant.

Iron does not shatter, Svana, I thought. Stupid queens are still queens.

My prayer did nothing to ease my worry. I began to wonder how he might dissect me in the moment. I thought to illuminate my own faults before he could, acknowledge that I had no wager I’d do well at within my journey. Father cast his gaze over me, then commented on my frock, an outright attempt to fill the screaming void.

“You’ve started quite the trend here in ísfjall,” he noted. “With your pastels. One of the debutantes was in a similar color the other day. The Foster girl, what’s her name?”

“I,” I frowned. “There’s five of them, sir. I wouldn’t know where to start guessing…. What did she look like?”

“Like the other four,” he said.

“Uhm,” I stammered. “Uh, I thank you for your notice,” I said. It was quiet. “...I do find yellow invigorating this time of year. This is called canary. It's quite simple to obtain. At least, I hear it is. I don’t actually dye the linen myself. But it is popular in town to do so. To… dye… one’s clothes. Fabrics, really. There’s a stall sometimes at the faire where you can see the process.”

“I think I’ve seen it.”

The lull ate at me as I ranted. “Sometimes, I like to think these sorts of colors encourage the flowers to hurry out of their frost. Silly, ha, but there is a lavender dress I have now and a coral. Have you seen those?”

“...What is it you wanted to ask?” he checked.

“I’d, uh.” I couldn’t remember. I had forgotten and flustered instead. “I’d...”

Father did not wait for my recovery. “Elías?” he called into the hall. “Come in here already, will you?”

My courage wavered as, on command, our knight stepped in.

“Your Majesty?” he asked.

The King rolled his wrist as he talked. “I’m sure you realize I have pressing matters to attend to.” Then he waved dismissively at me. “What is it that she wants?”

We shared a look, Elías and I.

“I—” But Father cut me off.

“Svana, please,” he said, then egged Elías to go on.

My knight exhaled apologetically. He said, “...The Princess is concerned about taxes, sir.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Taxes?” His Majesty repeated. “To what end?”

I shrugged, immediately recalling all the words I had meant to say. “What if I miscommunicate something?” I asked. “What if I don’t understand a law? Chalke is an entirely separate empire from us; it’s not unlikely that I could confuse something so small as that. Of course, then I would make us all look like fools, and I–” I swallowed the fact.

Father narrowed his eyes. “If anyone calls you a fool, remind them we won the War. That it is my mercy that has offered this treaty and your hand and that I will not hesitate to revoke it and just take their empire if I should feel like it.”

“Can you do that?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Well... I’ll say all that, but I don’t believe it will help, and I’ll still be an idiot,” I explained.

Elías hid his smirk. I did not venture mine.

“You’re not an idiot; you’re an Eisson,” the King said. “Eissons are not idiots. They’re kings.”

“Except me,” I told him.

My father waited.

“Because I’m… a queen…” I trailed, somehow uncertain despite the natural truth. I added, “A joke. A joke, Father. But what, uh, what should I advise the court should they be sore you are not with me then?” I asked.

“I’ve written their King; he’ll be aware you’ll be in my stead. There shouldn’t be a problem. It should please the court to see you and assess your…”

“Presentation, sir?” Elías suggested.

“Yes,” Father said. “Now. Is there anything else?”

I shook my head discreetly at Elías, who, in turn, said, “Nothing, Your Majesty.”

Father studied me. “You’ve had the best education gold and copper can buy. It’s physically impossible for you to be an idiot.”

“Can you buy sense?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes. Laws, taxes; they won’t be difficult for you; you understand them well,” he said. He glanced at our knight, and then his tone altered in an odd way. “But… I suppose we might find time to discuss your performance once you’ve returned…. If you request such a thing.”

“Do you request it, Your Majesty?” I asked. I felt sick at the idea.

“We could review the reception of your speech,” he added.

“At the transfer rite? Or at the quorum?” I asked.

“At the transfer,” he said. “Do not give speeches at the quorum.”

“Right.”

He nodded. “Good. Oh. I changed your itinerary. You’ll head to Chalke first. On your way back, give your aunt my regards.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I’ve not seen her in years. I’m sure she’s well. She has her ways of seeing to it,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

Elías half-bowed to acknowledge the wish. One of the King’s brows went up and the other down.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked.

“I... ” My hands dropped. “I thought we liked the color?”

“The color,” he said. “But the sleeves will be your death. You’ll pass out as soon as you arrive, if not before. Elías, tell her.” His attention went back to the papers on his desk as the other spoke.

“You’ll need a lighter wardrobe,” Elías told me.

“Even this is too much?” I asked. “This is light.”

“You’ll need late summer,” Father said. “Did you not warn her?”

Elías glanced at me.

“He may have, but I did not realize he meant it was hot . Summer is still in storage,” I explained.

“Have the new girl dig them out; it isn’t difficult,” His Majesty said.

“Aye, sir,” I said. “Not difficult but rude if I do not intend to wear such things.”

“Svana.”

Elías chimed, “I’ll see to it, sir. Go focus on your names, Princess.”

There was a lull. I turned toward the door, but the King dropped his pen.

“A final thought,” he started.

“Yes?”

Father’s hand hovered over the journal. His fingers touched what I could only make out as the date from my angle, but then he closed it and cleared his throat.

“Not you,” he told me. “You’re dismissed.”

Elías and I shared another look.

“Actually,” I said, gearing myself with a deep breath. “I’ll stay to hear it.”

He paused, stroking his beard, but said, “...Our whispers have gotten louder, Elías.”

His knight zeroed in. “The same thoughts as before?”

It was the code they’d always used around me.

“Yes,” Father said.

“Radicals?” I said to prove I knew. “Grand.”

“Gregor.” Father was upset.

Elías replied, “I know.”

Then the King nodded. “Keep your ear to the ground; gather what you can while there.”

“As you wish it, Your Majesty,” he said.

“And take another Blade with you,” he ordered.

“What?” I asked.

“Of course. I’ll take Ser Willoughby.”

“Ser Willoughby?” I cried. “I’d rather not. Pick another.”

They ignored my request.

“Ser Derek in your charge?” my father asked.

“Aye.”

“Fair. Yes. Yes. Fine.”

“Elías?” I said. “We do not need another escort. We can manage with you and Miss Jocelyn fine. The carriage will be so crowded, and Ser Willoughby is so big.”

“He’s thin,” Elías said.

“Yes, but he’s long,” I argued.

“Long?” he asked.

“Tall,” I stated.

“Aye, but–”

“He’ll have to hunch over the whole week,” I said. “You want him to hunch so long?”

Father said, “Go help locate your lighter clothes; stop arguing. I need to work.”

“Must I repack all my things?” I asked.

“You decide. However, it’s nearly seventy this time of year,” he said.

“Seventy?” I gasped. “In March?”

“Warmer in a week,” he said. “Warmer the next.”

I shook my head. “I see. ...Then… Then I am on my way, though I’m not excited about it. This will surely set us back, and I had hoped to stop by the marke— the modiste,” I lied.

“Mind the count of your words when you arrive,” Father said. “Chalke may be at our mercy, but they are inexperienced to a woman who speaks so freely or for so long. Remember that.”

I closed my mouth.

“Is there anything else?” he asked.

“No.”

“Grand.” He turned toward our knight. “You’ll keep her out of trouble,” he said, receiving a devout nod. “Then on with it. I need to revisit some of these disputes.” I was half across the threshold when he added, “Svana. You travel as my heir but in my name . I expect you to adhere to my decorum. Don’t stop in minor towns. Don’t frolic in markets, don’t talk to strangers, and by God, be weary of bandits and pickpockets. You stand out at all times.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.

“And stay near Elías. Do not wander. Do not dupe him.”

“Of course,” I said, but I had barely heard the complaint over my brain’s.

It had plans to execute—things to discover. There were days between Chalke and Oreia. The further I went, the shorter my father’s reach, and with every mile came shops and faces I’d never seen before and would never see again. I was on my way to meet my husband, the Prince, and once we were married, once the end of summer had come for me, my life would change forever thanks to him– to duty.