Page 11

Princess Vae of Sarn. I might not know her, but I do know her country.

My mother’s favorite target, lying on our northwest border.

The land of Heald has encroached upon hers in several brutal campaigns, pushing back their holdings, weakening their defenses.

My own hands have been stained with the blood of Sarn warriors.

Mind you, it’s been almost five years since our last skirmish, Mother’s attentions turned elsewhere.

This woman, so beautiful and seemingly benevolent, hails from a land my people have actively ravaged.

My warrior’s instincts immediately scream danger .

Which means I distrust her, fundamentally, with every fiber of my being.

Because were we in each other’s boots, I’d hate her for what’s been done for the sake of land and power.

Yet, her smile holds steady, her blue eyes wide and earnest. And the kindness, so unexpected in this viper’s nest of a court, feels like a balm to my raw nerves.

I am unsure of the social rules here. Is this genuine compassion, or a meticulously crafted trap?

I choose to accept the gesture, for now.

“Remalla of Heald,” I reply, dipping my head in a slight, stiff bow, armor creaking faintly.

I’m acutely aware of the fact I stink and that she’s the kind of delicate beauty someone like the Overprince should crave.

Perhaps our two goals can be aligned. Mother might want me on the Overqueen’s throne, but it’s clear to me that this is not my place, and Heald will not benefit from my marriage.

I will turn into Amber and be of no use to anyone.

“Oh, I know who you are, Lady Remalla,” Vae says, her dimples adorable.

“The Warrior Princess. Everyone whispers about you, even before you arrived. When we heard you’d accepted and were joining our little game.

” She laughs, a tinkling sound. “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed your striking entrance for all the gold in the Overkingdom.

How remarkable you are.” A faint amusement dances in her eyes, but it’s not unkind. “And that armor is truly… formidable.”

I feel a flush creep up my neck. The memory of my defiant salute to the smirking man in the market, the humiliation of the Headservant’s disdain, and each and every whisper I imagine aimed at me culminates in a wash of dread that I can’t shake.

“It’s just armor,” I mumble, feeling clumsy, suddenly aware of every scuff, every scratch. “I arrived… directly.”

Vae steps further into the room, her gaze sweeping over my quarters.

“Of course. And quite rightly so. A warrior should look the part. But… for court, perhaps something a little… different?” She tilts her head, her expression thoughtful.

“Your hair is such a gorgeous black, I’m hideously jealous.

Who chose this for you?” She tsks over the gown that Amber laid out, hurrying to put it away, though she hesitates as if uncertain if she’s overstepped.

I gesture for her to carry on. “And your eyes… they are molten amber, truly outstanding. We must accentuate them. You know, I’ve always wished for tanned skin.

” She sighs deeply as she helps herself to the closet and the clothing there, her voice a bit muffled as she rifles through what’s available to me.

“You stand out without even trying, Remalla. Ah, perfect!” Vae emerges again with something bronze draped over her arm.

“Your height,” she gushes, “those muscles, honestly.” She extends her find toward me and, hesitant, I take it.

“You would look stunning in anything, but the bronze will make them all stare.”

I look down at the thin fabric of the gown, back up to the more elaborate one she wears.

“Daywear and evening are two different things,” she says, drifting past me. “I can’t wait to see them die of jealousy at dinner.” She laughs again, that lovely sound. “You’re not comfortable here, are you?”

What possesses me to speak? I’ll never admit it out loud, but a bit of kindness goes a long way with me, and now who has been reading who?

I sigh, a sound of frustration I didn’t intend to share.

“I don’t know what I am doing here,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

My voice is tight, thick with the shame of my earlier scene, the frustration of my mother’s deceit.

“I feel…out of place. Like a clumsy bull in a flower garden. I don’t understand these rules, these games.

I’m a soldier. I don’t know how to prove my worth here. This has been a huge mistake.”

My mother’s voice comes fast, sharp, and condemning, echoing in my head. Weakling child to whine to your betters!

Mother would be horrified by my lack of control, my admission of vulnerability.

Vae has crossed to me, one hand gently touching mine, her fingers cool and soft on my skin.

“We all feel that way, Remalla,” she says, her voice soothing.

“You are simply different. And different is often a strength in this place, if you know how to wield it.” Her touch is surprisingly comforting, the scent of lavender from her gown soft and calming.

She points at the dress in my hands. “See this?” She fingers it briefly as though admiring the weave.

“This will be stunning on you. With your hair, your eyes…it speaks of the earth, of strength. All eyes will be on you in this gown. No one will ever forget you.”

I look down at the shining bronze, limp and silken in my grasp. Yes, like the soil of Heald, the copper threads catching the light, echoing the fire in my eyes. But it is thin, flimsy, nothing like me. Then again, unless I give it a chance.

I don’t want to stand out, though. I’ve already decided that. This dress will attract the Overprince’s attention, and I want him to look the other way. Still, there’s an appeal to the color that draws me in, and when I meet Vae’s eyes, she’s smiling again.

“Choose what suits you,” she says before going to the door again. “I’ll see you at dinner.” And then, she’s gone as a flicker of something akin to hope ignites within me. Could it be that simple? To just choose what feels right, instead of what is expected?

Perhaps things won’t be so bad after all.

Maybe I can find my place here, even if it’s not the one my mother envisioned.

If I can befriend the other princesses, even the ones from lands my mother has warred with, such alliances could be incredibly beneficial to Heald down the road.

If I don’t marry Altar, if I’m not the Overqueen, perhaps I can still forge connections, gather intelligence, influence the court from a different angle.

Then return home with some triumph instead of disappointment.

This is the only road available to me, and I must make the most of it.

Surely, this isn’t a complete waste. No matter what Amber thinks, I have no illusions about my chances against these delicate, accomplished women, but perhaps, just perhaps, my presence here can still serve Heald, and maybe even myself.

With that thought in mind, I go in search of a bath.