TWELVE YEARS AGO. . .

"She won't eat. She won't sleep. She won't speak," the King said to Elías just beyond my bedroom door. The knight shifted, filling the hallway with his armor's noise. "All over a stable buck," my father spat.

"The boy was her friend," Elías said in my defense.

"She'll make more."

"Perhaps if you would speak to her? An apology, Your Majesty?"

"And what would I apologize for? Saving her honor?" he buzzed. "Miss Hellveig is the best governess in this empire. We hired her to provide the Princess with the tools necessary to reign when I fall. Which may be sooner than we wish, or have you forgotten we are at war?"

"How could I forget?"

"I have a strategy to plan, Ser. Battles to win. They take precedence over silly adolescence and apologies. Tell her to eat. Find a way to make her, I don't care. She is the heir whether she likes it or not. And if she gets worse, I will take it out on you."

With that, he was off onto whatever bed he would find himself in tonight, and I drifted deeper into the sheets of mine. Into the mood of the castle after dark.

A moment later, a forceful knock rapped off my chamber door. "Your Highness?" Elías tried, different than he usually was out commanding the Guard. "Permission to enter?"

I didn't answer, so he waited, obediently. And perhaps because he was not the one I was angry with, I uttered the first word I'd spoken in a week, "Granted."

With that, he stepped in and appeared at my side. I was strung stomach-down, across the mattress, staring, rather derangedly into the wall. My shaky fingers traced the tiny lines of rock in front of them. He knelt and sighed. "Princess. You cannot do this."

"Cannot? I can do what I want. You do not order me, Knight."

"You'll wither away if you starve yourself."

"I don't care."

"You might. If you'd seen the truth behind that death. As far as suffering goes, there's not much worse."

"...I don't care."

"I think you do."

"I think," I struggled to sit up. "You aren't paid to think."

He didn't react, much to my irritation. "His Majesty bears remorse for-"

"I have ears, you're aware? I may be a child in your eyes, but I am anything but stupid. My father is not sorry for anything. He thinks-" I steadied myself against one of the bedposts ignoring the pang in my gut.

Elías added, "...The ostler and his son are gone. His Majesty has sent them away," and sat down on the floor. "If you're worried to cross his path."

Gone. That hurt worse than the hunger.

"...The doctor says the boy will recover fine, if you wish to know."

"Recover fine?" I groaned. "From being held down and branded? Like a horse? Like he was property? And for what? My request. How will he recover fine, Ser Elías?" I stressed his name. "How will I?"

"You are young, fortunately," he replied. "You'll find that pain fades in time."

"Is that the lie I should believe, or the one you tell yourself?"

He laughed. "As sharp as your mother."

"My mother is dead. I didn't even know her and I feel it. If you have nothing else-"

"We all feel it."

I sighed.

"Your house; Eisson, it means 'iron.' Two hundred years of faithful, unrusted reign, on this throne. You are led by the sword, by war. You are strong. Stronger than you think in this moment and you will survive this."

I could not have managed a louder sound.

"But. With your mother gone, I fear time was never taken to explain what it means to be royal... To be a Princess. She very much would've liked to have told you."

"Then she should've."

Elías' jaw rippled, tense, as he went on, "She would've told you; the Royal are chosen by God, Himself. For many things, all great. Great opportunity; great destiny. Great pain. But more than a countess, or any other lady, a princess' future is necessary for the future of her empire. One day you will be Queen. It is why you were born. Your purpose. And it will not be easy, but there will be joy. Like her, you will sire an heir. Of noble blood, and he or she will rule when you pass on. Days like the other will come and go, but you must be faithful to the life God has chosen for you. You must."

"What would she say if I refused?"

"She would say you cannot. Fate is not a choice. Fate is always in motion. Acceptance of it only makes the trials easier to bear."

"I loved him," I whispered. "More than anything."

"Love is a very strong word."

"What other is there that fits this massive hole? I woke up every morning with Willem in my thoughts. Snuck out of this room, out to the horses, every day so I could see his face. He's not like the other boys I've met. He does not want my gold, or my crown or a title for himself. He doesn't brag about who his father is. And he may not be an earl's son, but he is brave. And kind. Honest. He wants to be a knight. Does that not mean anything?"

"Aye, but-"

"I loved him."

"...Then I am sorry. You are meant to rule, not fall in love. And I know it isn't fair, but you cannot allow yourself to become tangled in ostler boys."

"The ostler boy had a name."

He paused, saying for me; "Willem," quiet. "Willem will be fine. And you, Princess Svana, first of her name, are born of iron," He stood and held out his hand for mine. "You will arise from this fire; a tempered blade. Put duty before all else. Even love. And accept Fate."

"...I don't know how," I confessed. "The days are so much darker now."

"I will help you," he said. "And I will show you courage. And remind you that you are more your mother than your father when you need it. But you must eat for me in exchange."

My fortress of resentment broke, yelping with it a small sound, "It's the smell," I whined. "The burning meat."

PRESENT DAY. . .

The day of the ball; Friday, came and with it, brought the unmistakable trouble focusing on the final quorum. Somehow tax evasion and lack of bread fell short of the idea of twirling the night away with my handsome prince. I wondered if he would like the dress he paid for. I wondered if it would be inappropriate to dance with him more than once; if our engagement changed standard rules on that, and I wondered if he would like me. Me, as a person, not just the crown. The hours between now and the moment I might know filled me with an uneasiness as they passed, quick and quicker.

I looked up from my notes, catching Sam's playfulness, and pursed my lips to bar myself from giggling. At least in front of these men, who already didn't take me seriously. King Sameer was speaking to a baker, whom he promised more resources to before sending him on his way. There was a brief moment of silence; I thought to break it with something witty, maybe a joke, but before I had managed a syllable, a farmer came into the room, wringing his hat between his hands.

"Your Majesty, sir," he said.

"Yes, please. State your business," the King said. The man was hesitant. "Well, go on. You may be the last for the day, but there are other things we are to attend to."

"...I." The farmer looked between the King and I. "Your Royal Highness," he bowed frantically for me as the King cleared his throat. "I come to you with," his voice shook. "It would be easiest to show you."

With a nod to his guards, they opened the door and brought in a cart.

Immediately the rotting smell assaulted me. I gagged as the pile of whatever it was he'd brought came further into the room. Sam looked at me, then back.

"What is this?" his father asked.

"This, my king, is one of my horses," he whined. "At least it was."

"A horse?" I cried, quietly.

The Prince frowned. "What happened to it?"

"Your Royal Highness," the man bowed. When he came up, he looked paler. "Raiders. Bandits. They burned the whole team."

"My God," Yosif sang, leaning into the King's ear. They glanced back at me, seemingly a response to whatever the Archbishop had said.

"They told us... I'm sorry, Princess," he said. "They told us every horse in Chalke will burn until Her Highness is gone. They do not recognize this marriage."

I scoffed, "The nerve."

The King scowled at me as I stood up and came around the table. "Princess."

I got as close as I could without collapsing to the odor and inspected the bones for myself. Sadly they did appear to have once been horse. "I am so sorry." I failed to muster the strength to touch it, but closed my eyes in a moment of respect.

"Awfully strange," I heard the King mutter about me.

One of the other council seats was next. "This could prove a sign the union should not be upheld."

"I will replace your team," I told the farmer.

His face twisted with the suggestion. "You'll replace my... my?"

"Yes, of course. I am sorry for your loss. More that it happened on my behalf."

I struggled, growing weaker by the moment.

"It's not as though we hadn't expected this," the King commented. He and Sam shared a look. "Traditions run deep in Chalke."

"Traditions?" I begged.

"There have been complaints of your impending arrival. Of reigning here," Sam explained.

"You've had queens," I debated.

"Queens, yes. Consorts. Always behind the Head of the House. The man," Yosif said. "Never an outsider."

I looked to Sam for his response but he stayed silent instead.

"I see." I shrugged. "Unfortunately for the lot of you, traditions have failed you. Oreia won the war. Your bandits will have to make peace with that. Or perhaps fight harder in the next." I frowned at the Prince's silence.

"The next-!" another fought. "You dare to-?"

A wave of nausea passed over me from the corpse. "No, sir. You dare. You are not my equal and you will do well to remember that."

"Simmer down, each of you," the King said. "There will be no war."

"Excuse me," I spat.

I'd barely made it into my bedchamber, to the washing pan to puke. Josie hurried into the room after me, and helped to hold back the looser parts of my waves. "I'm quite fine," I told her, wiping the corner of my mouth with the cloth.

"You don't look fine. What happened?"

"I..." I sighed, and sat on the seat in front of my bed. "I'm alright."

She looked at me suspiciously, but had no time to press the matter, when Sam appeared at the door. He knocked lightly, wearing a sorry face, and asked if he could come in.

"If you must," I said, weak.

"My love. I cannot express my apologies enough. I-"

"Completely abandoned me in front of your father? Yes." I snipped. "I was there."

"Yes," he took a deeper breath and moved closer to where I sat. "I struggle to defy the ideals of tradition, especially in his presence. But I do not share them."

"A flock of men burn an entire farm, and say 'leave her,' and you cannot defend me? Our marriage? I can't decide if you're misogynist or if your prejudice lies with my heritage instead? I have hardly the time for games, Sameer. In fact Josie is packing my things, as I am beginning to think-"

He sank to a knee in front of me, collecting the hand I'd tried to dismiss him with. "Princess," he said.

I closed my lips, glaring down at him.

"I am sorry. I will do better by you," he said. "I will."

I pulled away, cold. "You said we would use our histories to define a better future."

"Yes."

"Then how am I expected to react to the way you made me feel in there?"

"If you'd have it, I'll march back, haul the farmer in, and tell him, all of them you will be my Queen. My partner, and that'll be that. And I will send riders out to the bandits to-"

His suggestion made my chest twinge, but I refused to bend, strengthening my resolve with quiet breaths.

"Inform them of my will." Sam's eyes felt sincere, and he had been so kind since I'd arrived. Reluctantly, I let my anger slide from my face.

"Well that's dramatic," I muttered. "I forgive you. As long as you truly mean what you say. I want to be partners."

"Yes. Husband and wife." He smiled slowly, rising and sitting next to me. Josie tried to look busy, folding and refolding a garment near the dresser. "I do not want our evening or our marriage to be blundered by burning horses. Or differences in culture. Allow me a second chance. To properly court you, starting with tonight."

"Svana?" Elías arrived worried into the room. He was suspect of Sameer's position, until his eyes landed on Josie, and then he relaxed. "Princess," he corrected himself. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Ser," I stood. "I was just bothered by the meat."

"The meat?" asked Sam.

"Aye." My head danced on my shoulders indifferently as I decided if I should tell him. "I'm a vegetarian," I confessed.

"Oh." Sam nodded diligently. "I'll inform our staff of it."

"There's no need to make adjustments, I-"

"No," he sang. "My princess will feel at home here, and that's the end of that."

With a noble half-bow to myself and our company he exited the room in a buzz. Josie cracked, stifling a girlish laugh, and Elías frowned at both of us.

"You are so cruel," Josie teased. "The poor boy was actually on his knees."

"He what?!" Elías huffed.

"To apologize," I told him, casting him a glare. "God, Elías. For a knight, your mind travels to the seediest realms."

"I was young once. And as it is, my mind must, if I am to protect you from all the horrors of the world," he scoffed.

"Horrors?" I laughed. I twirled around in place, letting my skirt sway around me as I walked to the mirror and sat down. "How long before I can start getting dressed?"

Josie joined me, plucking one of the tiny flowers from my vase and holding it to my hair. "You can dress as soon as you should like. But you may be waiting in all that fabric for a while. There are a few hours yet."

I caught the knight's reflection, humming. "Will you be in attendance, Eli?"

He sighed, "I am in attendance to everything you are."

"Hardly fair. Do you follow my father around the same?"

"Yes."

"Hmph. Does my father dance?" I teased, revived by the Prince's promises. The ruse earned a sort of growl.

"No."

"Do you?"

"No."

"...What if I order you to?" I winked.

"I wish you would not." His hand let go of his sword, relaxing beside him, as I realized he'd been holding it this whole time. "If you are alright, I need to return to my rounds."

"Of course. Thank you, Ser," I sang.

The Palace was in a flurry of panic and desperation; all its pieces moving diligently in anticipation of the evening's fair. Distanced from the crew, and uninvited to help them prepare for such an event, I found myself staring at one of the Jesuses hanging on the wall.

His eyes were sadder than the pair that watched over my father's desk, I thought.

Despite the calamity, I was out of everyone's way, but bored. Nearly falling asleep on my own two feet. Then a loud, frustrated grunt; Josie from the foyer, rekindled my attention. I wandered towards her, significantly picking up the pace when her whines melded into a frightened blaze.

"Oh oh oh! No!" she cried. The girl teetered under a large heap of fabric as it threatened to swallow her whole. She seemed to struggle keeping it above the ground at all and as I reached out to attempt to aid her-

"Steady on," someone said. The bearer's hand took the mountain from her and gave her his free arm to regain her balance. "Miss Josie, is it?" he asked.

We instantly locked eyes.

"You know my name?" Somehow a surprise to her.

"We did meet," Cyrus sang. "...A person is not hard to remember." We stood in awkward silence as Josie stared between us. "What?" he asked.

"My apologies, sir," she blushed, trying to take the bundle back.

"Is that what I think it is?" I realized.

She nodded as Cyrus swung it slightly out of our reach, "Where does this go? The dining room?"

Josie paused. "The dining room... Sir?"

"Yes. I assume by the design it's some sort of table dressing. So the Dining Room then?"

She snickered, covering her mouth at my despair.

"What?" he frowned.

"It's just," Josie flustered, reaching and retracting her hands. "It's not a cloth."

I rolled my eyes and said her name with my sternest tone. She started down the hall and motioned the man to follow us.

"What is it, then?" He turned to me, pinching one of the finely manicured cords.

"It's a dress, Lord Evergreen." I said. "My dress."

Cyrus squinted. "A dress?" The flowers on it glittered across the ivory exactly as they had in the store and I did know why that was such a confusing concept for him.

"My Lord, if you would be so kind as to deposit the dress into my room, I would be forever grateful."

"With respect, Princess," his tone readied me for anything but. "This thing weighs more than you. I'm moving as quickly as I can."

What was he implying? I frowned, replaying the 'fat' and 'ugly' comment the boys had spoken of, calling me 'the Apple Girl.'

"How much further is it?" he asked.

"Miss Svana is in the Rose Suite" Josie said. "But, if you have other matters to attend to, I'm sure the Princess and I can manage it."

"The Princess wishes Lord Evergreen to carry the dress," I said. "He's already holding it."

Cyrus cleared his throat, making a point to look up and down the halls on either side of us. Still holding the thing he relented; "...Unfortunately for me, I see no footmen roaming about. I will not mind the task." Something about his attitude denied the fact.

Josie hummed and finally nodded. "Thank you, sir." She curtsied swiftly before turning on her heel and leading us down the corridor.

"The Rose Suite, huh?" he asked me, impressed. "That's quite the honor."

I didn't know why I was bothered by his observation. Sam, allowing me to reside within his mother's room; that was the natural order of things, right? Why did Cyrus care? Why did he know? Did they talk about it? Is that what men in their twenties did? Talk about room assignments?

"No one's stayed there in some time," he noted.

"You're familiar then? Of course you are, you're Sam's confidant, I hear." I tried to appear as well-informed as he did. "I thought it was a sweet gesture, myself."

Josie fanned her arm out as we reached my chamber; a warm welcome inside its four walls. "If you would lay it on the bed I can brush it from there easier."

"Right." As he did, the dress unfurled to its full glory, long and shiny, metallic in contrast to the linens that clothed my mattress.

"Well it is something," he muttered.

"Do you think so?" I asked. My brow lifted at the slip of candor. "It doesn't look like a table cloth?"

I stood in the doorway, still, between my maid and the man. With collected hands, politely folded in front of me, I stepped closer to the bed; to the dress, and consequently, to him. I touched the pattern sheepishly, picking at his earlier remarks.

His gaze was fixed on me.

"Thank you, sir," I said finally. "For carrying in my gown."

"Nothing of it. Right, farew-"

Josie cut in, "Do you think he will like it? The Prince?"

"Josie!" Idiot.

"Well he would know?" She dropped her head, looking back at it. "The dress, sir. Do you think the Prince will like it?"

I cringed. "Don't find yourself needing to answer that," I said, furrowing my brows at my maid. "Thank you; once again. Goodbye."

Cyrus stopped at the door, reluctantly. "I do," he said. "It's very beautiful."

Josie went past me and began to fluff the skirt out even more. She glanced at me as she did it, and added; "You will be the talk of the ball, Your Highness. I'm sure."

"I don't know about that," I replied. Was it obvious I wanted her comment to come true? I stared deeper into the garment and sighed.

"As always you are too severe on yourself, Princess," Josie gestured. "Even without the dress, His Highness won't be able to take his eyes off you. Don't you agree, sir?"

"Josie," I hummed.

"If you'll excuse me," Cyrus begged.

"Of course," I straightened. "I-"

He left out the door before I could apologize for keeping him. I waited only for a second before whatever it was that terrorized me about Cyrus and his stupid market lies possessed me. Soon I chased his departure; clicking back into the hall.

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