The Hunt was an Oreian tradition, and it was less of a hunt than it was a knight-eccentric race down the mountainscape.

Originally introduced by a great, great grandfather, it had been a private affair for only the noblest of houses and their Blades. A celebration past the Games, in short, but in my mother's reign, the vent had been opened to those further from the Crown, extending the roster to include a set number of guests who called themselves friends of those invited.

The point of the whole thing was to chase around fat, waddling pheasants and pierce and sack the biggest bird you could find with a bow and arrow. The winner received bragging rights, and all the bounties collected would be served as dishes in the grand feast for the subsequent ball. Regardless of the winner's societal rank, the best hunter was crowned Pheasant King for the Season. He was honored by a seat next to my parents and me at the meal and, as I was the Princess and hostess, a dance. In years past, only Swords had won the event, and Ser Elías usually spoke to them one on one through the night.

Much like my parents, though, I did not care for hunting, but the occasion welcomed a break from small talk with strangers, and as the face of the Season, I was forced to be there in Her Majesty's stead. I found it hard to complain, knowing the role would give me an excuse to hover around Askar's party, should I like, and for the entire day. It would let me be in his presence without real meaning or intent, and nobody could cry impropriety for it.

Yet, when I arrived in my emerald-colored bell sleeves, and matching skirt, the confidence I had felt in sporting my Duke's favorite hue was broken apart and threatened by the sight of Lord Beck's apparition among the waiting audience.

It was the only time I had ever felt the need to clutch to Ser Willoughby's hand, and, like a child, I grabbed it to steel myself through his sword. But, as soon as Krist had manifested before the podium I stood on, I knew that any hint of vitality I had within my appearance had washed from my flesh and evaporated into the thin, quickly chilling Autumn air.

I needed my knight if I had ever needed him before. I breathed his name.

Ser Willoughby loosed my grip, likely unsure of what it meant, until his eyes followed mine in their desperation. It took him but a second to turn completely away from the other two Swords he'd been conversing with and to try and comfort me.

"How did that rat find himself here?" Willoughby asked. "A moment."

He took a step forward, but I held him back, hushing him in my reply.

"Shh. We always knew it was a possibility, right?" I said. "It's fine. I'm honestly shocked it took so long to show his face. I thought he... It doesn't matter. There's nothing we can do. He is Duke Beck's heir."

"The fuck do I care for Duke Beck?" he muttered.

"Willoughby!" I glanced at him, shocked, but he went on.

"Someone must have brought him. I had Beck's invitations pulled."

"You what?" I might have gasped. "Y-You did?"

"Yes. I said I would, didn't I?" Willough quipped. "And I always do what I say. Don't I?"

"Yes, but... You did that? You actually did that for me?" I asked.

"He's lucky I don't do more." He squeezed my hand to reassure me. "Take a deep breath. You don't have to speak to him, and if he speaks to you, I'll be polite for you if I must, but I won't leave your side."

I bit my jaw together, not sure if the chattering had been the weather's fault or the ghost's, but it had to stop.

"Do you think he will?" I worried. "Do you think he'll speak to me?"

"Where is your Duke?" he changed the subject. "I thought I saw him around here?" Willoughby looked. "Yes. Ser Fridrick is there, so Löff must be close."

"Where?" I looked, too.

He sighed and placed an open palm between my shoulder blades to shepherd me toward the King's starting speech.

"I'll see to it that we bind ourselves to your Duke's party. Alright?" he whispered. "Do your part here."

"O-Okay."

"I'll talk to Frid."

"Don't!" I stammered to a stop. "...Don't tell him. Ser Fridrick. I don't want Ask to... I don't want the drama that comes with this. The Duke doesn't know Lord Beck is... Just don't speak of it."

He nodded, and I did as he had suggested, just in time for my father to start explaining the rules. Willem showed up next to me, as well. He cleared his throat.

"Rosie," he mumbled.

"Hunters shall travel in at least pairs for safety," Father said. He nodded to acknowledge my arrival. "Groups must consist of one caddy per one archer; supporters or onlookers must mind distance and line of fire. For fair odds, no more than six individuals in a party, to include three bows. First to bag his pheasant and return it to Marvin here..." He gestured to a squire who waved. "...wins an honorable mention. Last wins nothing, and, of course, the largest bird wins all and the promise of a seat next to my wife, Her Majesty the Queen, and myself, and our lovely daughter, Eliza. The winner also earns a dance with her. Wave, dear," he said.

"Daddy," I moaned, but there was an applause, and I did as he asked, waving to it.

I looked for Askar but didn't see him. The King went on. I leaned into my brother.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He knit his brow. "What did you do now?"

"Nothing!" I hissed. "I meant for before. For defying you or whatever."

"Ah." He shrugged.

"Well? Do you forgive me?" I asked. "Or must I grovel?"

"Is that an option?" he checked.

"Ugh," I scoffed back at him.

"It's fine," he said. "At least the Duke's not an asshole, I guess. In fact, I'm sure he'll make an excellent King when I abdicate." He gestured to our father.

"What?!"

Father was still on the rules. "Last year's pheasant record was two point six pounds, zero ounces, and twenty inches, including head to tail. Birds will be weighed and measured at the conclusion of the Hunt, which is dusk, so please be sure to label your birds accordingly unless you plan to stand with them all day. A copy of the rules has been placed in the front pocket of each provided quill, should you need to reference it. Now. Are there any questions?" he asked.

"Will!" I said.

"I'm kidding," he muttered.

A few players raised their hands, and when I dared to glance at the collection of men, once again for my Duke, Lord Beck had noticed me. I tore myself away from holding the link with no care for subtlety. I inched closer to my father's side. The power the Marquis' face had over me made me so ill that I nearly fainted. I begged the nearest tree to sprout its branches around me in some sort of cage or armor just to breathe. My heart surged inside my chest.

Krist said my name and title to the person beside him, and I felt sicker that he would dare it.

"Hello, sweetheart," my dad said, putting his arm around me as his announcement wrapped. He looked over my dress and nodded proudly. "That color suits you," he said.

Willem chuckled.

"What?" I asked. "Does it look bad?"

"I'd just be careful," he replied. "You're likely to fade into the forest if you don't move around a lot."

"A mercy, really," I joked, though neither understood it. "Would you cry if someone shot me?" Another mercy, I thought.

"Hell hath no fury as I would, should one of these bastards shoot you," Dad promised. "Honestly, Eliza, why would you put that idea out there? Now I feel like I should wrap you in my scarf."

"He's the one who said it!" I cried, jabbing at Will.

"I said you'd camouflage yourself," he moaned. "You made it sinister!"

Dad's gaze took him somewhere else, and I saw as he must have noticed the Marquis.

"Don't look at him!" I ordered, quieting myself. "Look at me. Don't... Just don't look at him, Daddy."

"Why is he here?" he asked.

"Who?" Will said.

"Shh," I pressed. "Don't make it a thing. Besides. The event is public." I searched the back of my nails and anything I could to seem distracted or nonchalant. "Can't really bar someone from the event if it's public, yeah?"

"Oh, the Marquis?" Will chimed.

"Shhhh!" I cried.

"It's not public," Father said. "It's by invitation, and your mother and I did not invite him."

"Then he is someone's plus one," I said. "It's not shocking. He was very close with some of our knights during the Games. Anyway, it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he said. "Where is Dan?"

"He's talking to Ser Fridrick."

"Who?"

"Askar's knight. Daddy, please," I begged. "Please do not embarrass me. I don't want–" I sighed. "I don't want to make a bad impression upon the Duke."

"Lord Beck is the one who's made a bad impression. This is your event; he shouldn't be here," he said.

"But it's over," I told him. "Him and I. Last year. All of it. It's all over. So what if he didn't want to marry me? I don't care."

He sighed. "Rosie."

"Do you want me to chase him off?" Will asked. "I'll fuck him up sideways into the dirt."

"Good God, Willem," Father croaked. He stared at him.

"It means fight, Dad," he said. "He hurt her feelings."

"Stop it. Both of you," I groaned. "What I care about is the opinion of the man who sent me half a hundred dozen roses. What if.... What if the Duke wants to marry me but not the drama? I cannot cause a scene."

"It's not a scene to feel," Dad said. "And it wasn't half a hundred; it was a hundred, I counted."

"You–? That's... That's a lot of flowers," I said.

"Yes. And that," the King pointed to my crimson cheeks. "That is a man who likes drama. Fear not, dear."

"Aye, I'll say," Will said.

I scowled. "If he likes the drama, he like when he is in control of it. Until he sees... Until he thinks I'm dramatic." I lowered my gaze.

"You are dramatic," Will said.

"W-What?" I cried. "Why is that supposed to mean!?"

Father tsked. "You're both dramatic. You're Eissons. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. Dramatics is how your ancestors took the throne; it's how your grandfather kept it and how he won the war. It's how your mother and I wound up married and not dead. So, don't ever feel it is a flaw because it's not. You're both brave, and you're both strong, just like your mother, and any man who is intimidated by that is not a man worthy of your affections. Understand?"

"But what if–?"

"Sweetheart." He canted his head. "You danced with him a time and a half, and he had one hundred dozen roses delivered to you. He's dramatic; you're dramatic; he likes it."

"...Well, when you say it like that," I thought.

"And if your Duke does not understand that Lord Beck tried to make a fool of you? If he takes that man's side? Then–" His lips formed a line, then unwove as he smiled and greeted a passing knight. He leaned closer, looking into my eyes. "Then you will have to find someone else. I know you love him, but I will not concede you to a man who does not deserve you. If the Duke is offended by who you are, then another Duke we find. Or anyone else. I don't care who you marry, so long as you are happy. So long as he respects you and so long as he–"

"Daddy," I gripped his arm. "I didn't mean to rile you so. Just... It doesn't matter, okay? What's done is done. Now, I can be cordial. Can you?"

"It matters that the Marquis led you on," he said. "Men should not lead women on. Let alone, my daughter. He said he was keen on making an offer. He— How many times did you dance together at every affair? How many times did he promise you he'd see you again? I'm just...." He inhaled, releasing the breath harshly. Willem put his hand on his shoulder. "I am happy it ended when it did. Before anything could happen, before you were engaged, before– I'm just happy to put that Season behind us."

"Of course," I told him. "I am, too."

Willem cleared his throat. He frowned. "Well. On that note, if you'll excuse me," he said before evaporating.

"Where is he going?" I asked.

Dad shrugged.

We shared a silence; then it occurred to me... "Wait a second, you said...." I shifted. "You said I loved him?"

He snickered. "Don't you?"

"I..." I made sure that no one was around us to overhear, especially the Duke. "I..."

"Once bitten, twice shy," my father said. "There is nothing wrong with that. But for what it's worth. He's doing well so far."

My lashes fluttered, and I didn't know what to say.

"Now," he said. "Where is Daniel? I should like to–"

"Dad, it's fine," I said, more alive than I'd been. "Really, it's fine. I'm fine."

"It's okay if you're not," he said. "You don't have to be. But know that I admire your courage and do look alive."

"Huh?"

"Your Grace," he said loudly as my cue. "It is a pleasure to see you again and so soon. We are excited to have you for the Hunt."

I spun around to see Askar. He was casually dressed, more like how he'd looked when I had first met him. Like who he was when I had grown to know him in the woods.... And he was smiling, and that made me smile, too.

"Your Majesty," he bowed. "All thanks to you for your mercy. I must say, I am quite taken with this side of Oreia. I just took a walk around the area here, as I have previously only seen the roads and cities between Ísfjall and the Riverlands. The forest is quite grand."

"Well, I can't take credit for the Great Outdoors, but I am happy you're seeing it. My Rose tells me your lands are just as green, if not greener?"

"Aye, they are, but there is still beauty to be seen here." He looked at me. "And, your mountain is snowy. That's fun. We don't get a lot of snow in the South."

"Ah, yes, your side of the range was far different to see," Dad said.

"He lives on a volcano," I added.

"I remember." Daddy grinned.

Ask took the opportunity to find me again. He was happy to see me, and I was happy to see him.

Then Elías appeared behind us, and stepped forward to shake his hand. "How are you feeling with the odds today, Duke?" he asked. It was a rough sort of hello, but it made me feel happier. Elías was only rough with the men he liked.

"Ser Elías," Askar said. "If I might be candid, I am... not...." His thought trailed a little.

"Not good at hunting?" the other joked.

"No, not hunting. I am not hunting at all today, Ser," Ask replied.

"You're not hunting?" I worried. "Why ever not?"

He paused, thinking. "In Gosil, we do not hunt for sport. We hunt for survival. Supplies. Fur in the winter. But never for contests. However, I am not offended to celebrate your traditions with you. Just at a limited capacity."

"Then why are you here?" Elías half-frowned.

"Eli!" I slapped his arm, and that deepened it into a full crescent.

"Heh." Askar let his eyes wander toward me another time. "Surely that is obvious for you, Lord Commander?"

My father laughed and hooked his hand onto the Duke's shoulder. "I'm not hunting either. You can keep me company, yeah?"

Askar was relieved, and I? I felt stupidly honored that he was still at the event when he had no business there.

"Beware of the King's jokes," Eli muttered. "Don't feel obligated to laugh. I never do."

"I don't laugh at your jokes either," my father said.

"Only out of spite," Elías cracked. "Because I'm hilarious, and you know it."

"Someone must be," Askar sang. He looked at me once more. "Your Highness... Wow. Forgive me, I am staring; I'm finding it difficult to do much else. You've taken my breath with you."

I curtsied to him though I didn't know why. "Then we are even, as I was very floored to have received your flowers."

His eyes were bright. I felt guddy.

"You... You look... You look as though Oreia herself was inspired by your beauty. That is a very good color on you. I—I must say."

My men all glanced at me in near-canon, and I knew they sought to see my reaction, but all I could do was blush and thank the Duke. I was meeker than I had ever been before and weird, very weird. I copied my awkward curtsy like a freak to seal the deal. "T-Thank you, Your Grace," I said over. "You humble me."

"No, you humble me," he insisted. He stole another pass over my dress, but it was so quick that had I blinked, I would've missed it.

"I am happy to hear you approve of it with my complexion, sir. I'm afraid I have grown quite attached to this color, Your Grace," I added. "I hope to wear it more... should the future allow it?"

Everyone was quiet. They were watching us, and I prayed to God that they had no idea what I was thinking. Askar knew, I suspected, and he wanted to say it. I could see it in his eyes. I could see it in the way his hand was nervously unable to find itself a place, hovering at his thigh. I wanted him to say more, and I wanted to tell him how badly I missed that hand touching me.

"Aye," he said.

When Ser Willoughby arrived beside the Duke, I felt even more on display, but he wasn't interested in watching me flounder before the man I was so obviously falling in love with. His face was jaded. Very jaded, and I tried to decipher the meaning of it with a quick exchange of twisted expressions between us, but without the words, I–

"Your Highness," Lord Beck said as he walked up. He stood next to Ask and folded his arms in front of him the way he always had when he was smug.

The Duke roused to welcome him, and my heart dropped a hundred flights of stairs.

"If it pleases you," he said. "I'd like you all to meet my cousin, Lord Kristjan Beck. We share a grandfather, the Duke of the Riverlands. Krist, this is the woman I spoke to you of. Her Royal Highness, Princess Eliza Ólason. Is she not as beautiful as I said?"

Lord Beck nodded. "Aye, she is very beautiful, cousin. As beautiful as I remember her."

The King was the first to break the barrier. He offered a tight, curt nod and then he spoke for me and everyone else in our party. He said, "Lord Beck," and then there was a purposeful pause. "I see you felt compelled to join us today. How have you been since we last saw you?"

My phantom tried to save face, but I could still see the worry rise. He swallowed, "Your Majesty," and then bowed like a dog to its keeper. "I have been well. Very well. I've recently had the pleasure of seeing the dunes in Watha with an old friend of mine."

I couldn't bear to watch him. Elías stepped closer as if he could feel the screaming my soul was performing somewhere else entirely.

"Then you must have seen Sam?" Dad asked but didn't care for the answer. "How is your grandfather?"

"Fine, sir," Krist said, but he didn't care to speak to him either. He turned to me. "You look well, Eliza," he said. "Will you be caddying for your Ser Willoughby?"

I could feel his eyes drilling into me, seeking weaknesses or flaws like he always did.

"You are so beautiful, Eliza," he said, the last time he'd said my first name.

I hated that he knew me so well and all my secrets. Without thinking, I spoke. "You will call me Your Highness, or my full title, or nothing at all, Lord Beck. And only when you must."

A small, upset laugh left him, but he nodded. "Of course, Your Highness," he said. "I deserve as much. ...I must confess, as surprised as I am, I am happy to find you have befriended my kin."

"Are you?" I pressed. "Because I am very happy with the connection myself, though I must admit I had not placed him as your kin until this moment."

Ask and I frowned at one another.

"I certainly do not think this is a funny sort of joke," I said. "Should it be a joke?"

"Princess?" Elías touched my arm.

"I'm fine," I muttered to him, shaking him off.

The Duke looked between his cousin and me. "You know each other well?" he asked or said. He craned well into Beck's space, whispering a quick. "Why did you not mention this?"

The other shrugged. "I must have forgotten to."

Forgotten.

I didn't have the courage to meet Askar's eyes, but I wanted to have the courage to do something. Someone else tried to speak up, but I trampled over it, the perfect hostess.

"Well," I said, lifting my head and turning on my heel so that I did not have to see their looks. I picked up the sling of arrows I was set to carry for Ser Willoughby and swung it over my shoulder. "Who's ready to hunt birds, I guess?"

My Knight honored me with a wiry look, and he tilted his crown at me to tell me I had done well, I thought. He stepped past the other two as they gathered their tools, and he stepped by Elías to take his post at my side.

"Ready when you are, Princess," Willough sang. "I'll bag the fattest bird in your name."

"Such a promise," Krist said.

My shoulders danced at that, and I felt my face contort. "I mean, you don't have to say it that way, Ser," I said to Willoughby. "I don't want the other birds to hear you and think that I am behind this sort of massacre."

"It's a hunt," he said. "Of birds. And you're the hostess. You are behind it."

"But they don't know that," I begged.

"You literally just said, let's hunt birds. They know," he cracked.

Askar took a sharp breath, cutting his way into the conversation. "Your Majesty, if we're to form teams. Might I—"

My father sighed. "Find me in a while, Duke," he told him. His eyes traveled to dare Beck. "Alone. But give me the hour with my daughter first?"

Askar took the hint. "I understand."

There was a moment between them before my father started to get Elías' things.

"Where is Willem?" he asked.

His knight shrugged.

Willoughby lifted his bow in front of us and tested its draw, passively aiming the non-existent arrow to Lord Beck's face, and had he not been married, had I not been half his age, and had I not been convinced that the Duke was the man I wanted, I might have fallen in love with my Blade's psychotic display in that very moment.

Suddenly, I felt very well-protected. The King hid an approving smile, and Ser Elías was watching us all too closely.

"Are you to caddy for Ser Fridrick, Your Grace?" he asked.

The Duke shook his head, and Ser Fridrick chimed instead, "I am a Son of Gosil, as well."

"How does that work if you're a knight?" Eli asked.

I smacked him a second time. "You can't just ask that," I hissed.

But Frid chuckled. "It works fine, as defending yourself and country is not the same as killing for sport."

We found Lord Beck.

Askar said nothing beyond a quick, "Krist will hunt for us. Frid will caddy. I will... I will be around."

I started to overthink. "Around?"

"Aye," Ask said.

"I see," I said.

I tried to barricade myself emotionally by affirming that Ser Willoughby was indeed ready. When he agreed, I nodded, he nodded, and we bid farewell to the party as nicely as one could without sputtering or strangling Lord Beck.

Not that I ever would.

I replayed the memory.

"You are so beautiful, Eliza," he said.