Elias rode through the royal park, his fingers loose on the string of the ash bow in his hands. He'd missed hunting for leisure. He'd missed riding fine horses. He'd missed life at the castle.

He had not missed the poor company. Or the conniving. Or the general snobbery of the courtiers.

Giant oaks towered around him, thick ferns and furry mosses making everything cool and green even as the sun climbed toward the noon hour. The only sound was the soft creak of the saddle and the dull thud of the horse's hooves in the loamy soil. 

Elias drew his middle finger along the goose-feather fletching, carefully scanning the underbrush. The officer's ring on his left pinkie winked in the shafts of sunlight that managed to fight their way past the forest canopy. 

Silence echoed around him. Even the birds seemed to have hushed, like they were also watching his passing. He half-imagined them lifting their wings to their beaks in a manner meant to be subtle but not, and whispering about him.

About the disgraced son returned to the noblest house of the empire.

It used to be a louder, jollier affair, when he was a boy. He hadn't even been able to draw back the heavier hunting bows then, but that hadn't really been the point. It had just been the thrill of getting to ride out with the hunting party.

Sometimes even the king would accompany them. Sometimes his father would be there.

He used to love this forest.

The leafy bushes about twenty yards to his left rustled and Elias twisted in the saddle, drawing the bow back. His horse swished its tail, chewing irritably on the bit in its mouth but otherwise didn't move.

Elias drew in a steady breath, eyes trained on where the sound had come from. The leaves stirred again and he let the breath out, finding that moment of stillness that occurred between one breath and the next.

The edge of the arrow glinted sharply, the stiff goose feather teasing at the edge of his mouth.

He sighed in aggravation when the rider came through and lowered the bow, letting the string fall slack once again. His horse stamped impatiently, but Elias kept the grey gelding reined in, watching the rider approach on a well-shaped chestnut horse, its coat like a freshly minted copper piece.

The rider was instantly recognizable to Elias, not because of who he was, but rather because of his similarities to her.

"Prince," Elias said, placing a hand over his heart and bowing his head.

Unlike Malitech, who heavily favored the king with his deep black hair and his thin mouth, Marcus seemed to have inherited the best aspects of both his parents' physical traits. 

His dark honey eyes flashed gold in the sun, just as Cassia's did, and his mouth might have been beautiful if not for the wickedly clever smirk that always seemed to be playing at the corner.

Also unlike his brother, Marcus' hair was neatly cropped. Not worn at chin-length as was usually favored by the nobility. If not for his fine clothes, one might mistake him for a common soldier.

Had mistaken him for a common soldier, if the rumors were true.

"Lieutenant Lucans," the prince said. "Imagine finding you all the way out here."

Elias frowned, carefully returning the arrow to the quiver slung across his back. He remembered enough about this particular royal son to know that nothing happened by accident where he was concerned. 

Marcus spurred his horse forward until he drew abreast of Elias' mount. His sharp gaze took in everything from Elias' worn, black leather jerkin to his salt-faded boots. He tensed under the scrutiny and Marcus smiled faintly, like he knew how uncomfortable he made people and enjoyed the unsettling effect his prying gaze had.

Prick.

Of Cassia's brothers, Marcus had always been the one that scared him the most.

"You look well, Lucans," he finally said. Then he made his horse prance to the side, wheeling the magnificent animal around. "Ride with me?"

Elias hesitated, wondering how impossible it would be to lie to a snake.

Finally, he merely nodded, pressing his heels into his mount's sides. They rode in silence through the forest, Elias stealing glances every so often. The prince wore nothing more extravagant than a deep green shirt embroidered with silver at the cuffs and around the neck and brown leather trousers tucked into boots that would probably have cost Elias five months' worth of salary.

Jealousy twinged in him as he was again reminded of what his life might once have been.

"I must confess some surprise," Marcus said, breaking the silence, "upon hearing you had joined the navy."

Elias just shrugged in response. There hadn't been any other option. By the time he had been old enough to enlist, everyone knew the name Lucans. No recruitment office would take him and soured pride had kept him from joining under a false name. 

The officer who had signed him up for the navy had done so reluctantly, but had been persuaded after Elias had bought enough rounds at the local tavern. Six years and nineteen major naval battles later had seen a change, however small, in the way other men said his name.

But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

"Of course," Marcus continued lightly, "I prefer the army myself, but that's neither here nor there."

Elias looked over at the prince, considering if his own curiosities would be worth whatever price Marcus would exact for them.

Two years ago, he'd heard rumors that Marcus had run away from the castle—against his father's wishes—and joined the Third Legion in Ventilium as they quashed yet another revolt.

Supposedly the prince had returned bloodied and with a particularly nasty scar for his troubles. Even more supposedly, the king had been furious and had Marcus whipped for his disobedience. 

Elias once more raked his eyes over Marcus, like he would be able to discern where the scar was through his clothes. When he looked up again, the prince was watching him with that same faint smile.

"Well?" he said, and Elias realized the prince had still been talking.

He blinked twice, mouth opening as he tried to come up with a way to ask what in Torvan's blazing hell he was talking about, without seeming rude.

Marcus watched him struggle for a moment longer, then raised an eyebrow. "Have you met the Seventh's new general? I wouldn't imagine you'd be eager to what with your, ah, personal"—he said the word delicately—"history."

Elias' mouth tightened. He remembered Cassia staring at the man as he was half dragged down one of the castle's halls by two other guards. 

"I haven't had the pleasure," Elias said tonelessly. "I've heard enough about him, I suppose."

The new general had been a favorite topic of discussion amongst the court. His victory at Grana was nearly the stuff of legends, not to mention there was a certain air of mystery around the man, and more than a few rumors surrounding his nobility.

"Indeed." The prince let out a low chuckle. "I've heard a thing or two about the general myself. A valiant man by all the accounts I've heard, though, perhaps," again Marcus laughed like he was enjoying some private joke, "too brave. I've heard he's been known to go places other men dare not."

Elias got the sudden feeling they were no longer talking of the general's battlefield exploits. And he had already heard quite enough about the general as of late.

"Are six legions not enough for your father?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice nonchalant. "Is he so desperate for victory in Brunia that he has to resurrect a disgrace to the empire and place a no-name bastard at its head?"

Marcus made a small tsking sound at him. "Careful, Lieutenant," he said softly. "Even the trees have ears here."

Elias paled horribly as he realized what he'd just said, and who he's just said it to.

But then the prince grinned, the expression delighted. "No-name bastard? Yes I see you've heard about him." He laughed again. "Not very talkative, that one. He injured himself, and hardly anyone's seen him since the banquet five nights ago."

"Injured?" Elias echoed, picturing that day in the hall again and Cassia's watchful eyes.

Marcus shrugged. "I don't know how. Not that it really matters. He'll be gone soon enough if I'm not mistaken."

A chill skittered down Elias' spine at that, not doubting the prince for a moment. 

Marcus ducked a low-hanging, moss-covered branch. "Have you seen the princess?" he asked, startling Elias with the change in subject. "I seem to remember my sister being quite fond of you when we were children." 

"Briefly, Your Highness," Elias said. "As expected, the Heir is a woman with much to accomplish. I doubt she has much time for anything beyond that."

"Yes," Marcus said with a sigh. "She's something of an enigma, my sister. Is she not?"

Elias had no idea how to answer that. He had come to a place he had once called home and met a woman he'd once called family. She had been as beautiful as he had imagined she would be, all those long years apart.

With masses of shiny, dark hair and bright eyes that caught the sunlight. Those features he remembered from childhood. But it was the smooth curve of her hips and the gentle swell of her breasts that had ignited simmering longing into burning need.

But the mind behind her captivating eyes had been that of a stranger. The princess had grown cold, since he'd known her. Had grown as calculating and conniving as the man he now rode beside.

"She has always been... strong-willed," Elias said carefully. "She is a daughter of kings."

"If only she were a son," Marcus murmured. He tilted his head back, studying the leaves far above their heads. "She's not what you remember, is she?"

Elias tensed, making his horse burst into a startled trot.

"I suppose she is what the world has made her," Elias returned after slowing his horse back to a walk. "Prince Malitech seems to think she will soon see reason and abdicate the throne to him."

The words were out of his mouth before he could really think them over, and he glanced cautiously at Marcus, who seemed unperturbed by the thought. The prince's eyes were somehow withdrawn, as if he were only half listening to the conversation.

"Malitech is a fool," Marcus said finally. "Cassia would sooner cut out her own tongue than relinquish her crown."

Elias couldn't stop himself from glancing around, searching through the trees for any sign that they weren't alone. He frowned when he caught a flash of movement and watched in dismay as a beautiful stag bounded away from them, sunlight dappling its tawny hide.

"She cried you know," the prince said, also watching the stag as it disappeared into the trees, "when you left. How she screamed at Father for sending you away." Marcus shook his head in something like wonder. "That was the first and last time I ever saw my sister cry."

Elias wished the prince would stop saying things that struck him speechless. He kept his eyes forward, looking along the dim trail before him, wishing he was back on his ship with the bright sun on his back and the cool kiss of sea spray on his face.

He had grown to admire the ocean, respect its infinite majesty. But he did not love it. There was only one thing he loved, and she had been doing her best to avoid him for the past three days. 

Finally, he managed, "It is good to see the princess again." He twisted the leather strap of the reins around his fingers. "But I am here as a guest of Prince Malitech. I only await his return."

And the return of his title. After he had that, he could go after what he wanted.

The prince suddenly drew his mount to a halt, and Elias twisted in the saddle as he drew ahead a few steps. Marcus gave him a narrow, thoughtful expression, then turned his horse. "Good day, Lieutenant."

Elias watched in astonishment as the prince nudged his copper-colored stallion into an easy canter, soon disappearing into the thick trees. When the sound of pounding hooves no longer reached his ears, Elias also turned his horse.

What in blazing hell had that all been about?

After a moment, he urged his horse into a trot, making his way back to the castle. The madness of the conversation with Marcus had left him feeling drained and on edge. All he wanted was to perhaps find something compelling to read and hole up in some obscure corner of the castle where he wouldn't have to pretend like he couldn't hear the incessant whispering.

He eventually broke free of the forest and had one of the guards return his horse to the king's stables. His stomach growled, insisting on a detour to the kitchens. Elias had been pleasantly surprised upon his return to the castle to realize how much he remembered of the castle's winding corridors.

The head chef—a rotund man with a thick cinnamon-colored beard and a bald head—had grumbled but let Elias swipe two thick slices of bread that had been baked just that morning, half a carved chicken breast and an apple.

He slipped the apple into a pocket of his jerkin, then placed the roasted chicken breast between the two slices of bread. The first bite nearly made him moan with delight. Bread wasn't a commodity one saw at sea, and he refused to call the hard biscuits they served aboard ship bread.

The chicken was well seasoned and tender, and Elias forced himself to savor the food. If Malitech's planning fell through, he didn't know when he'd sample its like again.

Try as he might to stick to the quieter corridors, he still couldn't completely avoid the other denizens of the castle. But he nodded and smiled politely as he went by, ignoring the contemptuous eyes of the men and the curious glances from the ladies.

Finally, he reached the library. The smell of leather, paper and ink wrapped around him like a warm embrace. Two stories tall, the walls were covered in shelves that stretched to the ceiling.

A mezzanine ran along the perimeter of the room, allowing access to the books nearer the ceiling. Small reading areas were dotted along it, its banister of dark oak carved to look like small trees. Huge windows were cut right into the shelves on the eastern wall and a skylight would let in sun from the west, so the room was almost always filled with golden sunlight.

Elias took a bite of his apple, the crunch appallingly loud. It was worth it though as the sweet tang of the fruit coated his tongue.

The floor of the library was covered in more stacks that he knew also hid small reading areas. He and Cassia had spent entire days here reading and drinking tea that had been imported all the way from Sorveti in the far east during the cold winters.

He polished off the apple as he wandered through the shelves, not really looking for anything in particular.

Reading was yet another luxury he hadn't often been able to indulge in since his family had been banished from the capital. After that he had needed to work for a living, so that his mother and sisters didn't.

A dull ache threaded through his very bones, poisoning his heart.

They were the reason he was here. And they were why he would not fail.

Elias heard the soft chattering of her ladies before he found her. It was in the philosophy section of the library when he rounded one of the shelves to find Cassia running a finger along the leather spines. Her ladies were seated near one of the windows a respectable distance away, but still fell silent when they caught sight of him.

The princess was so absorbed in selecting a title she didn't see him at first, and he wondered if he should just turn around and disappear before she did. But then he shook the apprehension and defeat off. 

"Looking for anything in particular, Cissy?" he asked softly, the nickname feeling foreign on his tongue when once he wouldn't have thought twice about it.

The princess whirled around in shock, the skirt of her pink gown flaring as she turned. Accents of gold glittered in the heavy braid hanging over her shoulder and at her ears.

She had always been so beautiful. Almost unfairly so with the dramatic sweep of her cheekbones and the lush mouth he longed to taste.

"Elias," she said with a relieved breath. "I thought... never mind. What are you doing here?" She offered him a smile that didn't quite hide the tightness in her face.

"I can read, you know," he said dryly.

"No, I..." She trailed off, then let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "I just thought you would have better ways to spend your time while you're in Levitum."

"Doing what?" he asked, walking down the narrow aisle to be closer to her. "I've never much cared for the spectacle at the coliseum. Sailors drink enough as it is, so I'm rather sick of taverns."

"A play, perhaps," she said with an amused lift of her eyebrow. "I hear they're doing The Death of Corina at the Westland."

Elias made a face. "Theater is best enjoyed with a companion. That way you can discuss how the idiocy of the characters rather than the death is the real tragedy of the play."

Cassia laughed, and he joined her as the mirth actually reached her eyes. The princess leaned against the heavy shelf behind her. With a sigh, she said, "I think I would have enjoyed going to the theater more if I'd had such a companion."

Silence descended around them and Elias looked away from the princess to avoid saying anything foolish. He caught the eye of one of her ladies and blushed lightly when the woman—a dark-haired beauty with big green eyes—smiled at him, batting her lashes.

Quickly, he returned his attention to the princess to find her frowning at the books across from them. Then she seemed to shake herself free from her thoughts and said, "I was just returning Sylvanius' new work." She reached up and touched a slim volume bound in silvery cloth. "Have you read it?"

Elias plucked the book down from its place and traced a finger over the wolf and crossed spears embossed on the cover—the banner of Sylvanius' house. He couldn't remember the last time he'd read anything by the Philosopher Soldier, though he did remember Sylvanius was a favorite of Cassia's.

"I haven't," he admitted, tucking the book under his arm. "But now I shall."

Cassia gave him a small smile, her eyes drifting over his shoulder toward the library's exit. Elias braced himself to be dismissed once more.

But then the princess nodded. "Please do. I would very much like someone to discuss it with when you are done."

Hope leapt in his chest and he bowed his head. "Of course, my lady."

The next smile she gave him was as genuine as her laugh had been. Her golden eyes were still somewhat reserved, but the smile was closer to what he had remembered and missed.

She cried you know.

The prince's words echoed in his head, suddenly lending him boldness. 

Cassia had started to turn back to her ladies when he said, "And perhaps before that we can see The Death of Corina." Cassia looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows drawing together. "Theater is more enjoyable with a companion, after all," he added, praying to Morrana that he hadn't overstepped.

The lady of courtship was perhaps smiling upon him when Cassia said, "I will have to ask my father."

Elias smiled and bowed. The princess murmured a second goodbye, then left the library with her ladies in tow. He again flushed when that same lady as before smiled at him, her eyes looking him up and down before they disappeared beyond the stacks.

The book's cover was warm in his hand, like it had been sitting in the sun. He began to leaf through it, slowly making his way to a far, private corner of the library that he knew would be bathed in sunlight during the afternoon.

Perhaps he needn't wait for the return of his title after all.