"Now tell me, Donovan, when are we going to get to meet this lady of yours?" his mother asked.

He was at what he had always thought of as "family dinner." Once a month or so, he and his brother had dinner with their parents. Occasionally, his uncle, Prince Corbin, or other visiting relatives would join them. And more often than not, whatever girls were currently in the palace from the Selection would be there as well.

For the last few years, there had been just one girl. Kieran had chosen a girl every year since he had turned eighteen, but was usually the only one to do so. His uncle would Select a girl sometimes, but for the last few years, he had not. (Rumor had it he was courting a widowed duchess, but Donovan didn't know for sure.) His father generally did not take a mistress—at least not one in so public a manner as the Selection. And Donovan—at least until this year—had not participated in the Selection for a long time.

So, it was that the first family dinner after the Selection came, and Donovan did not even think of bringing The Girl—as he had come to think of her. He tried very hard not to think of The Girl. Mercifully, she had stayed put in her suite the entire week since the Selection while he had gone about his days as though nothing had changed, attending council meetings and reviewing reports and the like.

Donovan sipped his wine, trying to buy time to give his mother a reasonable explanation.

"Yes, brother, where is the maiden?" Kieran interjected. "I hear you are quite taken with her."

Well, at least one part of the plan was working properly. He knew he would not be able to hide his complete aversion to The Girl from his housekeeper, so he told Mrs. Whitley a half-truth. He told her that he had chosen her as a favor to her father, but that he had no intentions of touching her. Of course, it wouldn't do to let that become public knowledge within the palace, so would Mrs. Whitley be so kind as to encourage some rumors about a salacious affair?

He wasn't sure she entirely believed him, but was grateful Mrs. Whitley did what he asked. He did not want Kieran to find out he had no actual interest in The Girl.

Unfortunately, rumors among the staff would not be enough to maintain the ruse.

"I shall bring her to our next dinner," Donovan declared, not without feelings of trepidation.

"I wanted to give her a chance to become more settled in before subjecting her to the entire Court. She's never been before, you know," he added by way of explanation.

"Oh, but you will bring her to the ball next week, won't you?" his mother asked.

Donovan had forgotten about the ball. He did not particularly enjoy them and preferred to make a cursory appearance and then retire early. But he would have to attend and bring The Girl.

He gritted his teeth and forced a smile, "Yes, of course, I had forgotten it was so soon."

"Of course, you have, Son!" his father chuckled. "You must be completely smitten with her! Well, enjoy it while it lasts, you'll be married for the next Selection!"

Donovan maintained his forced smile and nodded. He usually ignored the fact that he was intended to marry the eldest daughter of the Duke of Carrington. It was a good match; her family was very wealthy—they had easily paid the tax that kept their daughter out of the Selection for years. Not only that, but the marriage would help the Crown consolidate power over a finicky bit of land in the East. He tried to resign himself to it. At worst, it would be a bland companionship (which was about all one might expect from an arranged marriage), and at best, might prevent a civil war. Nonetheless, he could not muster any great enthusiasm about marrying a stranger. He would have liked to wait until he found someone he actually wanted to marry, but princes rarely had such a luxury.

Donovan resigned himself to speak with The Girl after dinner. He dreaded seeing her again. He had heard and read more than enough disturbing things about witches—they were not to be trusted. Their ability to make illusions was inherently deceitful. Some sources even suggested they could enchant men and force them to do their bidding. He was not completely sure if that was true, but he would rather not find out.

As dinner ended and everyone was leaving the dining room, Kieran called, "You'll save me a dance with your lady, won't you? I cannot wait to meet her."

Donovan clenched his jaw. Kieran was going to make it a very long year.

—

Maren jumped at the sound of a knock on her door. She had been meditating. It was one of the few things she had done since arriving at the palace. It wasn't terribly exciting, but it was useful. Meditating helped her suppress and control the Light within her, and if she wanted to survive the palace she needed to become very, very good at doing just that.

It was well after she had eaten dinner, and she was not expecting any of the staff, which meant the person at the door was most likely the Prince.

In the week she had been at the palace, she had not seen him at all. She had established a little routine for herself, she woke up and dressed and had breakfast, then some reading, then luncheon, then meditation until tea, after tea was more reading, and then dinner and meditation until bed. She felt like something of an ascetic, but didn't mind overmuch. Solitude felt more comfortable than any of the alternatives available to her.

She did not want to answer the door and see the Prince. Could she pretend to be asleep? She knew she would have to speak to him eventually, but was hoping to put it off as long as possible.

Knock. Knock.

"Dammit," she cursed and then called, "Come in!"

It was indeed the Prince. He came into her sitting room but stayed near the door. He was still dressed for dinner in a charcoal suit with a matching waistcoat and a dark green tie. She avoided looking directly at him.

Maren rose from where she had been sitting and curtsied.

"Your Highness," she greeted him.

He glowered at her and said tightly, "There is a ball next weekend. You are to attend with me. Speak to Mrs. Whitley if you have any needs for the evening."

Maren was not terribly surprised. While she would have gladly never set foot outside her suite, she knew she would eventually have to appear at Court.

She had had more than enough time to consider her circumstances while alone in her rooms for a week. Maren realized that regardless of what the Prince had told her about not speaking to anyone, that would be impossible. She had absolutely no idea why he had chosen her (he had made no attempts to come anywhere near her bed) but, for whatever reason, he presumably would like her to appear to be his mistress. (Why even choose her if he did not want that?) They would have to appear publicly as a couple to maintain that illusion.

"As you wish, Your Highness," she replied. She kept her eyes lowered. Making eye contact with him felt entirely too provocative, so she made a point of averting her eyes...which would likely make attending a ball with him rather awkward.

"There will likely be other...outings...as my schedule permits. I expect you to behave yourself —"

Maren suppressed an urge to scoff. Did he think she was a child?

"— and act as though...act normally," he instructed.

Act normally? What a ridiculous thing to say. She wanted to give a bitter and sarcastic response about how she had intended to flash her highly illegal magical powers for all the Court to see, but would likely find some other way to manage.

Fortunately, she held her tongue.

"It is in your best interests that the Court believe you are my mistress. You would be wise to conduct yourself accordingly," he warned.

She nodded. Although she had never been to Court before, she had an excellent idea of what sort of performance was expected of her.

The Prince paused. "Do you even know how to behave at Court, or do I need to find someone to instruct you?" He sounded highly skeptical.

Maren had to actively resist her instinct to roll her eyes. Did he think she was raised by wolves?

"No, Your Highness. My father, the Count, ensured I was properly educated," she explained, unable to stop herself from reminding the Prince that she came from a noble family, even if she was a witch.

The Prince nodded curtly and left her rooms without another word, closing the door behind him.

Maren huffed and sat back down, only to jump back up again and pace the room. She was too irritated to sit.

She was thoroughly annoyed with the Prince. He had spoken to her as though she were very dangerous and very stupid. He clearly regarded her with nothing but contempt. It was as though she were something particularly loathsome, like a leech or a maggot or....a witch.

She sighed. This was the first time in twelve years she had dealt with anyone finding out her secret. And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew almost anyone else in the kingdom would be treating her the exact same way.

The Crown devoted much of its resources to hunting down and executing anyone with the Light. And a significant portion of the rest of the resources made sure every single person came to hate and fear "witches."

Every child read books about how an evil witch would steal them away in the night. Parents were advised to keep a close eye on their children around unfamiliar women. The Crown published pamphlets constantly warning citizens of how dangerous and unnatural the Light was. They told people the Light was an evil and corrupting force that would turn even the sweetest of girls into conniving monsters the day they turned thirteen. She had even read one about women—for it was only women who could wield the Light—bewitching men and murdering them.

Everything that went wrong was always blamed on the Light Wielders. Did your crops fail? It was a witch. Did your power generator break? Witches. Did your children go hungry because all your money was paid in taxes to the Crown? Well, that was because of witches, too; taxes would be much lower if the witches were gone.

Of course, most everything people thought they knew about Light Wielders was nonsense. Maren could not make crops fail, or generators break, and would gladly leave the kingdom if there were anywhere else to go. She had never once stolen a child or bewitched a man or done anything with the Light more nefarious than start a few accidental fires.

But some of it was true. She could make illusions that could deceive or harm people. She could burn just about anything to a crisp. And if the mood struck her, she could blast a hole in a wall...or person. She knew it didn't matter if she had done any of those things or even if she wanted to, she could, and that was enough to make her dangerous. And people were afraid of dangerous things.

So, she knew exactly why the Prince held her in such low regard. She had even believed most of what they said about Light Wielders when she was growing up. She just disliked being face to face with that contempt.

She allowed herself a moment to dream about the life she had planned for herself, not the first life, but the one she planned after the Light. She would have stayed with her parents while they lived, and then she would disappear. She would leave the estate where she grew up and go live in the mountains, just like Karlyn.

It would be solitary, but in the mountains alone, she could be fully herself. She wouldn't have to hide from anyone. She wouldn't have to be afraid of getting caught. And there would be no one to be afraid of her.

She sighed. She had actually been excited for it before the Selection. But that was gone now. Just as the life she thought she would have before the Light was gone.

Karlyn's voice echoed in her mind, "There's no sense in regretting what might have been, there's more than enough to do today."

Maren closed her eyes, resuming her meditation. More than enough to do, indeed.

—

It was two days later when Donovan knocked on The Girl's door again. It was after luncheon, but not quite time for tea. He knew the palace gardens would be full of courtiers ambling about, and it would therefore be the perfect time to put her on display. Walking in the gardens with The Girl was the absolute last thing he wanted to do, but he could delay it no longer.

"Come in," she called, and he opened the door to her sitting room.

She rose and curtsied. She kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze. So much the better, he thought.

He surveyed her. She wore a simple day gown with long full skirts. It was a pleasant sort of blue color, something like the color of the sky on a summer day. Most of the women at court did dress in a more flamboyant style, but The Girl was at least presentable.

"You will come with me to walk in the gardens," he ordered.

"As you wish, Your Highness," she murmured and came towards him.

Instinctively, he stepped backward.

He immediately regretted his mistake. He couldn't help it, though; he felt compelled to be as far away from her as possible, it was like a survival instinct. But he could hardly maintain the appearance of having an affair with her if they were never in the same room.

He cursed his brother for the thousandth time for putting him in this position.

It appeared she had noticed his reaction. She had a strange sort of expression on her face, as though trying to suppress a smirk.

That irritated Donovan. Of course, the witch would find pleasure in his discomfort.

He turned and led The Girl out of his apartment. When they were in the hall, he reluctantly offered his arm.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but he was surprised to find that the feeling of her hand on his arm was completely normal, just as any lady's hand would feel. He still was very uneasy at having her so close, though, and he walked faster than he might have otherwise.

At least it was a pleasant day. It was a bright and sunny autumn day and the perfect temperature for a walk in the gardens. If the lady on his arm was anyone else, or no one at all, he might have enjoyed it.

He loved the gardens. An expansive lawn lined with trees flowed from the southern end of the palace. It was filled with fountains and rows of hedges and flowers arranged in different sections based on type or aesthetics. The gardens were large enough that you could almost always find some modicum of solitude, but usually had enough people in them that you could find company if you wanted.

There were a handful of courtiers near the front of the gardens, closest to the palace. Donovan knew them well enough that it would be rude not to stop and say hello. He braced himself to introduce The Girl.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," Lady Vanessa said brightly, and her three companions murmured similar greetings.

"Good afternoon, my ladies, lords," he greeted them. "May I present my companion, Lady Maren Casteris." He turned to her, "My lady, may I present Lady Vanessa, Lady Angelina, Lord Bradford, and Lord Winslow."

She curtsied, and the courtiers returned her greeting.

"And how are you liking the palace, Lady Maren? This is your first time at Court, is it not?" Lady Angelina asked.

"It is, my family's estate is very far to the North, so I've never had the opportunity before. But I am enjoying it very much indeed. It is beautiful and everyone has been terribly kind," The Girl answered.

"I am delighted to hear it," Lady Angelina said with a smile. "Perhaps you will join Lady Vanessa and me for tea sometime."

"That would be lovely," The Girl said.

"If you'll excuse us, I'd like to show the lady more of the gardens," Donovan interjected.

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady," Lady Vanessa said.

"The pleasure was mine," The Girl replied, and Donovan led her away.

Donovan was surprised, that had been a perfectly normal and appropriate interaction. Perhaps The Girl really had been properly educated.

"Gods above! And here I was thinking I might never see you again!"

"Hello, Alec," Donovan said, resigning himself to a conversation he really did not want to have.

"Your Highness," Alec said, bowing deeply. "It is an honor to be in your presence once again!"

"Enough, Alec," Donovan said, rolling his eyes. "I've been busy."

In actuality, he had been making a point of avoiding his friend. He would rather not have to explain himself, and Alec would want an explanation.

"So I hear! And won't you introduce me to your lovely companion?"

"Alec, may I present Lady Maren Casteris. Lady Maren, this is Lord Alec Drake. He is the Court Physician and the son of the Duke of Worthingham," Donovan said.

"And his highness' closest friend when he is feeling magnanimous," Alec added. "My lady," he said, taking The Girl's hand and kissing it. "I am delighted to meet you."

"Thank you, my lord, I am very pleased to meet a friend of his highness," The Girl replied.

Donovan could see Alec studying her and knew his friend was trying to see what had made Donovan choose her after so many years of not participating in the Selection.

"Well," Alec exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I shall leave the two of you to your stroll. I do hope to see you again soon!"

Donovan breathed deeply. He knew he would eventually have to face Alec and give him some sort of explanation as to why he had taken The Girl. Alec knew exactly how disastrous his first two forays into the Selection had been, so it needed to be a convincing explanation. But that was a matter for another day.

Donovan led The Girl away again. He intended to take her to a relatively private space known for amorous encounters. If anyone saw them going to that particular area at the rear of the gardens, it would encourage the notion that she actually was his mistress.

He looked at her. As they moved further away from the majority of the others in the gardens, her smile had become more and more forced. She was also drifting further away from him, barely hanging on his arm. This irritated him. She was behaving as though she were being inconvenienced?

He tilted his head towards her in the way a lover might, "Would it be so very difficult to at least pretend to make conversation?" he snapped under his breath.

She copied his head tilt. From behind, he supposed they did look like lovers. "I was under the impression I was not allowed to speak," she retorted.

Donovan growled deep in his throat. She was right; he had told her not to speak. But that didn't make him any less irritated.

"In public, you should do whatever is needful to keep up appearances," he snarled.

"As you wish, Your Highness," she said in a monotone voice that belied her anger.

Donovan resisted the urge to chastise her. She was trying his patience with her insolence, but he did not want it to appear as though they were arguing.

Finally, they reached the secluded corner of the garden where they would not be visible to anyone else in the gardens. He pulled away from The Girl abruptly.

"We will wait here for a few minutes," he dictated. She did not respond, having walked off to look at some flowers.

"And you will not have tea with those ladies," he added.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she snapped.

He grumbled. Generally, he did not insist upon his proper form of address, as it was practically impossible to have a conversation when every phrase was punctuated with "Your Highness." But he was beginning to suspect that The Girl was dropping his address deliberately.

He resolved to correct her the next time. He would make sure the witch knew how to address royalty.

Donovan checked his watch—they had only been in that particular part of the garden for three minutes. Not nearly long enough. He sighed and decided they should wait for three more.

The tension between them was palpable. Decent manners or no, he loathed being in such proximity to her. She was so dangerous and insolent and —

And, if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit a good bit of his loathing was actually fear. He was used to being around other people with powers, but those were people he knew, his family. They also had powers he knew and understood. He knew very little about the Light and had never seen it used. He had only known what The Girl was when she had used it at the Selection because it felt just like Darkness but coming from the wrong gender. But he didn't know anything about The Girl and her capabilities. Would she bewitch him? Could she? Would he even know if she tried? What if she had already? Was she more powerful than he was?

He had assumed the Darkness would protect him, but now he was not so sure. There was a reason the Light was illegal. It was highly dangerous magic. It corrupted every woman it touched, turning them evil or possibly even demonic. Perhaps even The Girl had wanted to be chosen at the Selection. Perhaps he was the subject of some sort of sinister plan...

Donovan shook his head. He was being paranoid. After all, there was no way for The Girl to have known he'd had an excellent reason for keeping her out of Kieran's clutches.

He checked his watch again—five minutes had passed. Good enough, he thought.

He loudly cleared his throat and held out his arm. The Girl came to him and took his arm. She looked flushed—exactly the sort of flushed that a lady might have if she had had an amorous encounter in that particular portion of the garden. Donovan would be the only one who knew she was flushed from anger instead of passion.