"Try these, Nick—they might hurt less." Alana's fingernails scraped along the wooden surface of the tray on his nightstand. Seconds later, she slid the leather-like frame onto his nose. Sturdy yet soft, yet still the structure scorched his skin.

Faster than he had received the spectacles, he removed them. "Can we stop?" he was almost begging.

"But there's only three more. The next ones—I can feel it—they're gonna be the ones. Greg said the wire needs to be held at all times, but—"

"Later."

All evening long, he had endured the Princess' new project. With the promise of a well-filled bag of gold from the treasury she had walked into the workshops of all Sundaler glassmakers; the result no less than twenty spectacles with frames made from different types of woods, metals, even bone and leather. Yet, seventeen attempts later, he was no closer to having eyes that could see.

"Shall I read you a story instead then?" she asked. Her hand touched his arm. "Whatever you want—I'll ask someone to fetch it. A fresh batch of books arrived. I asked Mama to buy this—"

"Don't bother."

It was too painful. Listening to stories bore too many memories of what he had lost, the skill he had considered as normal as waking up with a full bladder after a good night's sleep. It wasn't fair. The hours he had lived living the lives of others weren't enough to compensate that he would forever remain stuck in his own body and mind, bored out of his skull.

Others were hopeful he would eventually see more than the faint discolourment that from time to time appeared in the corner of his right eye, but Nick had lost all hope. Healer Mark hadn't made any promises, the disgruntled humming as he examined the wounds saying more than any words of encouragement.

"Then let me tell you then of how Seb welcomed Uncle River," Alana suggested after a moment of silence. "I swear, it was as funny as it was embarrassing. So—"

"I don't wanna hear about Seb."

"But he got a mountain dog pup, Nick. The precious little thing is so cute I wanna die." Her voice rose to a shrill pitch.

He couldn't share her enthusiasm. "I wanna die too."

"Nick..." She stroked his hair, an annoying habit she had picked up since he had been bed-ridden.

He avoided her touch by pressing himself against his pillows. "What?"

"Isn't there anything you want to do, apart from dying?"

"See."

"One day. Tomorrow we shall try those spectacles again, and I won't give up. I refuse to give up."

He shrugged. "Why do you care so much? A magician did this to me, not you."

"Because I'm your friend. I don't like seeing you like this."

"Blind."

"Nobody likes—"

"Blind people."

Alana let out a sigh that could only be accompanied by her typical dramatic eye-roll. He would sell his soul to the seven Gods of Sin to once again behold those cornflower blue eyes of hers going skyward. 

"Muttonhead, I wanted to say that nobody likes seeing you so miserable."

"You make it sound as though I have a choice."

"Yes, because you sound like you've already given up." The chair she had been sitting on scraped over the floor. His mattress wobbled as she sat down on his bed, what he assumed was her upper leg brushing against his shoulder. "You need to believe that you can get better, you must get better, Nick. I talked to Papa. He can arrange private tutors for you. You're clever enough to learn through hearing what others have to say, but a General you can never become if your condition becomes permanent. And you have to become Seb's General. It has to be you."

"Because I'm the only one who can kick his butt, tell him his brain consists of pudding?" he scoffed. "You don't need me for that. There are other people more than capable enough to bear those responsibilities."

"I wasn't thinking about Seb." An atypical hesitant sigh escaped her lips. "But about me. You becoming a General impacts me too."

"I don't see how."

"I'll show you."

Once more his mattress wobbled, her breath gently landing on his broken face. She smelled of a freshly drawn bath, a hint of lavender never far away. Her fingers followed his untainted jawline, caressing it.

The heat of her body moving closer.

Nick panicked. "Princess, what are you doing?"

Her lips brushed his.

His breath hitched as he realised what she was doing. Her kiss was short but tender, tastier than any biscuit he had ever eaten; his reaction was to fight off the Goddess of Lust. He jerked his head away from her. A painful affair.

"You can't. We can't," he said. "You're the Princess."

"We'll be like Prince Lewis and the Pastrymaker's daughter."

"Their romance was a secret. When the King found out, Eline was executed. Lewis walked into the Scorching Plains, never to be seen again."

She grabbed his hand, a gesture he refused by making a fist. "But we're different—we can be together when you lead the army. Papa has long approved of this idea."

"Is that why you're doing this? Because you'd rather marry me than George or some foreigner?"

"Muttonhead." Her voice filled with emotion. "I never understood all those sappy romance novels Mother is so fond of until you stumbled into the library all those moons ago. Since that day I wanted to be the Prince Lewis to your Eline, feed you biscuits and read you stories. Before your arrival, I never had friends my own age—let alone anyone who shares my interests. I love you, Nick, and that's the truth. It's why I have spent nearly every waking moment by your side since you returned from Whitepeak. Why I arranged these spectacles. I want to be your wife; not because I hate the other candidates, but because I want no other husband but you."

He didn't know what to do with that confession. Sure, he liked the Princess enough to spend the rest of his days with her, but whether or not he ever got his sight back was not his decision. The Gods controlled everything, and they hadn't been exactly in his favour.

"Nick?" She tugged at his shirt. "Say something—anything. You're scaring me."

It was better to break her heart now than to let her live a fool's hope. "I wish I could say yes, but I can't. I won't be able to participate in the tournet, let alone become the next General."

"Is it because you don't love me back?" she asked.

Love—he didn't know what that was. 

"You're a friend, and a very good one too. You're beautiful, yes. And a good kisser, but we have no future, not anymore."

"I'll keep trying those spectacles." She sniffed.

"Fine," he gave in. At least that would make her stop crying "What other news is there?"

Alana chuckled uneasily. "What?"

"Apart from Prince River arriving in Sundale to sign the most important deal of the decade, has George returned from Whitepeak? And Alex... has she safely left the Port of Diligence?"

In his head, he could visualise Alex's mousy brown hair blowing in the wind. Beneath her Billy trotted on through a forest, his white mane and brown eyes appearing as clear as daylight.

"You're honestly asking about Alex?" Alana said, her disbelief masking part of a sob.

He realised his mistake. Talking about another woman when you had just been kissed had been the recipe for disaster in many stories. "Oh, but I don't like her like that. She left—voluntarily too. I want to know because of Billy."

"When we get married, Billy shall be yours again," Alana said, curling his hair around her finger. She was impossible.

"But has there been any news?"

"Last I heard, Papa received a message from Lord Simon that the Acedia's Revenge set sail. No other pigeon has come from the Port, but I presume no news is good news."

Nick hummed. "And George?"

"His silence worries me more. Papa doesn't share any information—not even to me."

"In George's absence, your father should send a legion or two up there. I'm not kidding—it's chaos up there. Captain Frank rules the place as if he were King of Whitepeak. Both the men and the magicians are out of control."

"I'll tell him," she said. "I think he might send the army up there soon. When Uncle River has signed the renewed trade deal with Ice."

"Good, deport all magicians to the north. Let them rot there."

"What happened to the young deserter who eagerly proposed peaceful co-existence to Papa?" she said, almost mocking him.

"He learnt his lesson the hard way. Looks like your father got what he wanted."

"He always does. And so do I." She planted a second kiss, on his jaw this time. "My General."

He pushed her aside. "Don't."

"Please," she said, not really seeking permission. "Let me brood on a plan. I'll find something—you'll see."

"Hope so, but—"

"No 'but', Nick. I'll find it. I'd rather walk into the Scorching Plains than have any other husband. I'm serious."

Not believing it was possible, her persistence did warm his heart. Something stirred in his stomach, and it wasn't hunger. Purer than the yearning he had felt for Bee, more pleasant too. He had always liked Alana. They would make for a good couple. The daughter of Diligence and the son of Sloth united.

This time he reached out to kiss her.

And missed.

He chuckled. She giggled.

He couldn't remember when his chamber last filled with laughter. If it ever had...

Was this what love was?