Copyright © 2023 by Rose Walken

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, utilized, or stored in any fashion without the written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotation used in reviews and critical articles. To do so is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Send requests to connect@rosewalken.com.

ISBN: 979-89859451-5-7 (eBook)

ISBN: 979-8-9859451-6-4 (paperback)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023917490

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. AI disclaimer: No portion of this story idea, outline, or essential content was generated using artificial intelligence (AI). Software with embedded spell checks and light editing features, however, were used during production and finalization stages.

First printed edition 2023

The Write Moves Press

Gambrills, MD 21054

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Sinder: A Fairytale Retelling (Gailleth Realm, #1)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter | Twenty-Two

Chapter | Twenty-Three

Chapter | Twenty-Four

Chapter | Twenty-Five

Chapter | Twenty-Six

Chapter | Twenty-Seven

Chapter | Twenty-Eight

Chapter | Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter | Thirty-One

Chapter | Thirty-Two

Chapter | Thirty-Three

Chapter | Thirty-Four

Chapter | Thirty-Five

Chapter | Thirty-Six

Chapter | Thirty-Seven

Chapter | Thirty-Eight

Chapter | Thirty-Nine

Author’s Note

There are no explicit romantic scenes within these pages, but there is mature content that includes (but is not limited to) graphic violence, family illness and death, discussions of legitimacy, family betrayal, sibling rivalry, and challenges to gender roles and societal pressures.

Please read with care, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Some stoke the fires of passion to watch love ignite.

Others coax it from the ashes...

Chapter One

Sinder

The last glowing ember leapt, landing ablaze on its fleshy target. With a muttered curse, he cast the tongs onto the rack before removing the apron protecting his tunic.

A faint breeze rustled through the larger of the forge’s two openings, promising some semblance of relief from the sweltering heat. There were still several lunar cycles remaining until the leaves would begin their descent.

He pushed a crude shutter open wider, noting the sun’s position high above the towering oaks. It was time to pay the castle a visit.

Whistling one of several raunchy tunes learned as a youth slinking amongst the shadows, the blacksmith grabbed a bar of lye soap and a bucket of water. He was eager to rid himself of the sweat dripping from his skin.

The moment his feet stepped past the doorframe, however, a loud whinny pierced the air.

“Easy, Gus,” he said, smiling at the piebald tamping inside its stall. "Yes, I know. It’s time to feel the grass under your hooves. And if you’re lucky, perhaps Cook has saved you a carrot or two.”

Gus snorted and inclined his head as if in agreement.

“And perhaps sweet Ginny will have a treat for me.” He chuckled, conjuring an image of the buxom castle maid who’d taken on the task of teaching him the pleasures of the flesh. That is, until she’d declared the student had become the master.

Washing the grime from his hands, he grunted as the warm water hit his overheated flesh. It had been refreshing straight from the stream when he’d collected it at sunbreak. As much as he wanted to sink into the refreshing depths of its source—so close he could hear it burbling over the river rock—he was determined to see his grandparents first. Besides, there would still be time to take a dip before darkness fell and the forest animals sought to quench more than their thirst.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he walked back into the forge, glancing around the small space where he spent most of his time. It was modest in size and furnishings, but it was his. There was little else he could call his own, apart from Gus and the cottage where he lay his head, but the pride it afforded him rivaled any other lords. Here, he had forged a purpose from the hellfire of loss and suffering, molding it into a passion for creating objects of strength and beauty.

His eyes flicked toward what he knew would become his most prized piece: the sword he intended to carry with him until he was too frail to wield it. The gods willing, he’d one day have a worthy son to bequeath it to.

Finished with his visual inspection, he returned the soap and bucket, whistling the same tune. The sword would be fully formed and ready for quenching tomorrow, which meant he needed to bring an additional pail on his visit today.

Stopping in front of a chest buried under piles of woolen rags it, he pulled out a clean tunic and hose. His lips twitched at thoughts of the scolding he'd receive if he showed himself to the castle’s occupants in his current state.

Resigned, he dragged off the lightweight fabric he wore while smithing before whipping around at the sound of a gasp.

A pair of wide eyes set in a long face stared back at him from the open doorway. He recognized the girl as one of the castle maidens, always slinking around doing his grandmother’s bidding. She was a plain lass, apart from the cornflower blue irises sliding unashamedly down his exposed torso.

Wanting to put her at ease, he threw the clean shirt over his head. “What is it, Agnes? Is it Grandfather?”

She nodded. “Y-yes, milord. E’s under the window again and the duchess is beside ‘erself. Called ‘im a right ole codger. Says only you can talk sense into ‘im, beggin’ your forgiveness for sayin’ so.”

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, grinning before asking her to inform his grandmother that he would be there soon. “And it’s Sinder, not milord,” he reminded her, although he knew his grandparents would tan both their hides if she ever addressed him so informally. He paused, cocking his head. “Would you like a ride?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, milord. I... enjoy the walk! And I’ve a mind to visit—” she stopped, blushing. "That is, I was going to..."

Laughing, he raised a hand. “I understand. Tell Jeeves I hope he’s feeling better soon. Gus misses him.”

Her shoulders sank, and Agnes let out a relieved breath. “I will, milord. G’day.” She dipped a curtsy and was gone.

Sinder grabbed two empty pails and the pole he used to balance them. He hoped that whatever healing Agnes intended for Jeeves would speed along his recovery.

While it was true Jeeves wasn’t the most skilled apprentice Sinder had ever had, he was a fast-learner and clever, and a valuable friend. He was also the longest lasting of all the villager’s sons who’d been sent to him. Even his stepmother’s wiles had not been enough to sway the young man’s loyalties. Truly a gem among the common rocks that made up the bulk of this dukedom.

Settling his supplies across his horse’s back, Sinder checked the saddle’s positioning before swinging atop it. “Hope you’ve enjoyed your rest, Gus. Today we fly, before Grandmother finally makes good on her promise." He frowned, shaking his head. "I, for one, would hate to clean up Grandfather’s remains from the stones below. It’s a hell of a drop.”

The sun shone brightly overhead, casting a golden glow over the idyllic landscape. Here, he was free to revel in its warmth, thanks to the soft breeze that now trailed across his face.

Lush green fields stretched out before him like a colorful tapestry. The grass was dotted with wildflowers in vibrant shades of purple, red, and white.

Gus shook out his dark mane and whinnied. Sinder gave him his head and let out a joyous cry. These were the lands of his blood, no matter who tried to say otherwise.

Once he could make out the spires of the castle in the distance, Sinder reined Gus in and got a side-eyed glare in response.

“I know, boy. We’re almost there. Just enjoy the scenery and we’ll be there before you know it.” He chuckled at his horse’s quickened steps.

Further ahead, farmers in roughhewn cotton tended their crops. Sturdy horses called a welcome as they pushed wooden carts laden with the bounty of the late spring harvest. He inhaled deeply. Only a faint trace of manure lingered with the musky earthen scent of fertile ground.

More of the castle became visible, its vine-covered walls and turrets reaching toward the sky. The rhythmic padding of Gus’s hooves was nearly drowned out by the sound of a trickling stream that disappeared behind the castle walls.

Horse and rider were greeted by an unwelcome figure leaning against the rubble and ashlar stones. Ignoring the man, Sinder guided Gus onto the cobbled path surrounding the castle, where they were met by the stablemaster.

The piebald whinnied a welcome, causing the lines around the man’s eyes to deepen.

Sinder dismounted, a genuine grin lighting his face. “Greetings, Ander. It seems you’ve finally managed to win this finicky brute over. Honestly, I’m not surprised, considering the care you’ve always taken with him.”

“Aye. It took 'im a spell, but ‘e’s got a right to be choosy, I reckon. Being the biggest and fastest ‘orse in the realm like ‘e is.” Turning to Gus, he patted the satin muzzle that leaned into his hand. “Come on, you big ninny. I’ve got a nice bit of straw waiting for you once I’ve given you a proper rub down.”

Gus gave a head toss in agreement before turning to Sinder.

“Go ahead, I’ll be back for you soon enough. And be happy with whatever Ander gives you. No begging. It’s beneath you.”

With a snort, Gus turned and followed Ander’s lead toward the stables.

Sinder watched them go, a grin tugging at his lips. After the past five years, he was no longer surprised by his horse’s intelligence. His grandfather had chosen well.

Knowing he couldn’t delay it any longer, Sinder sighed and turned to face the man behind him, the one who had been eyeing him as if he were a bug to be squashed.

“Well, if it isn’t Sinder," the man taunted, "by-blow son of the late William St. Ayers, the second.”

Sinder stopped, moving his hand to rest above the hilt of his sword. “Greetings, brother.”

Chapter Two

Sinder

Sinder grinned at his youngest sibling, who was now glaring at him. “Oh, and you forgot favorite grandson of William St. Ayers, the current Duke of Ellacourt,” he added, shrugging.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Garrett asked, scowling.

“Sure, if you want it to be. I’m feeling somewhat magnanimous today.”

“Magnanimous," his brother muttered. "Awfully big word coming from the mouth of a bastard nobody."

“Some of the same blood that flows through your veins flows through mine,” Sinder reminded him.

“Ah, but there's the rub, brother." Garrett sneered. "The key word there is 'some.' Definitely not the part that’s worth anything, that's for certain. And what does that have to do with using big words?”

“Relax. I'm just saying that it’s lucky–for us both–that blood is not, generally speaking, an indicator of intelligence.”

The silence stretched.

Sinder crossed his arms, beaming down into his brother’s glare. Wait for it.

Garrett's face flushed red. “Hey!”

There we go.

Sinder deflected the oncoming blow he’d learned early on packed enough power to lay a fellow flat.

“Sinder!”

Both men froze, their heads snapping up in unison. Their grandfather’s voice still projected strength despite the lack of breath in his body.

Sinder stood back and straightened himself, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on his form-fitting breeches. Eyes fixed on a seething Garrett, he bellowed, “Coming, Grandfather!” before walking backwards down the cobblestone path. “Garrett, our time has been most educational, as always.”

Garrett’s face went from ruddy to puce. “Horse swiver! I don’t know why you suck up to that old geezer anyway.” He jeered. “You know Adam and I will rule over all this when William cocks up his toes. Then you’ll be nothing but a stable boy, if you’re lucky. Consider yourself forewarned, Sinder. There’ll be no more pricey lessons with swords and sticks and whatever else you do in the east wing with your odd companions.”

Stiffening, Sinder stopped walking, allowing a smile to stretch across his teeth. His muscles ached in his efforts to ignore his base urges. Those ‘odd companions’ were more like his brothers than the one standing before him ever had been—or ever would be.

He held Garrett’s gaze. “I’d never want to deny you valuable information, brother. What I ‘do’ there is learn how to defend myself...against those who would wish me harm.” Tapping his hand against the hidden smallsword he kept close even in slumber, he continued. "Against anyone who would wish me harm."

Garrett frowned, glaring at him.

“I’d be happy to teach you a proper lesson," Sinder continued. "Any hour of the day. Really, you need only ask.”

Eyeing him warily, Garrett sniffed, shaking his head. “As if I care what a nobody like you does. I’ve got plenty of things–more important things–with which to occupy my time, thank you. It’s not easy running a large estate, although, I daresay that’s not something you’ll ever have to worry about,” he taunted before turning away. “Have fun hearing the same dumb stories for the hundredth time.” His mocking chuckle trailed behind him as he disappeared through a side entrance of the keep.

A palm-sized rock, jolted from its restful spot by Sinder’s boot, skipped across the path several feet ahead. Sinder tried to calm the elevated heartrate that frequently followed a run-in with his brothers. They were a nasty pair, and it was the answer to his fervent prayers when he’d grown over six inches as a lad of fifteen. In contrast, both Garrett and Adam were short for the average St. Ayers’ man. By seventeen, Sinder had reached his full height of a few inches over six feet. It was a testament to his siblings' stupidity that they still tried to intimidate him.

“Sinder, where the hell are you, boy?” A disgruntled voice called down from above.

Grinning up at the window his grandfather insisted on lying under during sunny days, he cupped his hands over his mouth. “On my way now!”

He dodged a pretty kitchen maiden carrying a food tray, cutting through the servant’s entrance and up three flights of sturdy stone stairs.

Stopping outside his grandfather’s chambers, Sinder drew in a steadying breath. He forced a jovial grin before advancing though the doorway.

“I apologize, Grandfather, I was having a fascinating conversation with one of your grandsons. Garrett sends his regards, of course.”

A wheezing cough heralded his grandfather’s response. “Don’t waste your breath. The only interesting thing about that boy is how such a large head can hold such a pea-sized brain.”

Although he agreed, Sinder fought the urge to laugh, thinking it more prudent to remain silent. Instead, he flicked his eyes over the man who had raised him like a son after first his mother, and then his father, had been laid to rest. Today the elder man’s color looked more ashen against his sparse white hair.

“You haven’t been attempting to lift yourself up to the window ledge again, have you?”

Dual wiry eyebrows all but met in the middle. “What’s it to you if I have? You would think I was about to cross over to the Land of Tomorrow, the way you caterwaul and fuss. I’ve still got plenty of life left in these old bones, I do!” he blustered before succumbing to a coughing fit. “It’s this damn drafty pile of stone that’s trying to do me in.”

“Why you insist on being moved under an open window is beyond me,” Sinder retorted, moving to adjust the pillows supporting the gaunt form. He knew it was no use arguing with him, but the old man seemed to enjoy the verbal sparring.

“A man needs to see what’s going on around him," his grandfather continued. "Especially when he’s responsible for as many lives as I am. You’d best remember that, my boy.” His words were punctuated with loud, harsh breaths as he collapsed against the pillows.

Some days, his grandfather’s health was better than others, but this was already starting off as one of the worst in Sinder's recent memory.

“As you and I both know that I will never be the one ruling over this kingdom, I’m not sure why you waste your time and energy.” He tried hard to mask the resentment the words engendered, knowing it wasn’t his grandfather’s fault that his mother had sought comfort outside of her vows.

“Because the thought of leaving everything I’ve spent my life building and protecting to the two biggest dolts this family has ever been cursed with...why, it makes me—” The rest of the scathing reply was choked off as he visibly struggled for air.

“Grandfather?”

Reaching over to support his back, Sinder forced him upright to a sitting position, mindful of the frail bones protruding from his linen shirt.

“One. Second.” His grandfather wheezed, holding up a hand as his face contorted, the lines of time deepening.

Sinder was attuned to his grandfather’s every move since he’d been diagnosed with a wasting lung ailment six months before. The healers had told him and his grandmother that there would be no recovery from the disease. The duke’s decline had been steady and absolute. Their only hope was to make his last days as comfortable as they could.

A willow-thin woman entered the chambers, her long silver hair swaying in unison with the clucking of her tongue. “William!" she snapped. "What have I told you about laying so close to that drafty window? You want to spend the rest of your days hacking and carrying on, do you? You’ll catch worse than a cold if you don’t let us move you to the other side of the chamber, I tell you.” Her hands rested on both hips while her teeth worried her pinched lips. Hooded eyes, once a brilliant blue but now cloudy and deep set in her lined face, betrayed the fear behind her scolding.

Sinder considered the obstinate but fiercely loving couple as they fell into their familiar bantering. He wasn’t sure who was worse at acting–his grandfather for blustering to keep them from pitying him—or, his grandmother for scolding to convince him it was working.

Knowing that six decades spent together meant they were more than capable of antagonizing each other for an eternity, if allowed, Sinder cleared his throat loudly. “You wanted to see me, Grandfather?”

His grandfather's face grew darker, and he looked over at Sinder, nodding solemnly.

"I do," he said. "And you won't like what I have to say," he continued in a strangled voice. "But we've run out of time."

Chapter Three

Prin

“Bullseye!” The twinkling voice crowed from behind a set of perfectly curved lips.

“Ah, Prin, no fair! You’re better at throwing axes than me. I told you I prefer bows and arrows.”

“I don’t seem to remember those words leaving your mouth, Philippe Dormir. In fact, I believe the exact phrase was, ‘I’ll best you in whichever game of weaponry you choose.’”

Prin watched in amusement as he laughed nervously, pulling on the collar of his tunic. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit tired today. My father had me up early this morning and uh—”

“Yes?” She could no longer contain a grin as he let out a deep sigh.

“You know you’re the best at half the things my father wishes I was good at, Prin. Do you have to rub it in and make me admit it all the time?” He ran his hand through his mahogany brown hair, creating a delightfully tousled look that reminded Prin of when they used to collect toads and spiders together in these same woods. Well, she had collected spiders while Philippe had used the toads as a shield against them.

“Since you’re a much better statesman than I am, yes. It’s only fair that I inspire the same envy in your parents as you do in mine. They would give up their last meal if even a fraction of your charm rubbed off on me. I mean, what kind of woman with the last name of Charmant can’t pull off actually being charming?” She groaned, tossing her braid over one shoulder.

“Oh, you’re charming. Until you open your mouth,” he taunted, sidestepping her answering kick.

“And to think, I was going to go easy on you at the Ascension Festival.”

“Since when do you go easy on anyone?” Philippe scoffed.

“Don’t be a sore loser. And you’d be a lot better if you spent more time practicing and less time making sheep eyes over Aurelia.”

“Not like it matters. She’ll never notice a baron, even if he’s a rich one.” His handsome face contorted into the sullenness of a boy half his twenty years.

“I don’t see why not! You’re smart, personable, easy enough to look at, I suppose, if one hasn’t grown up staring at you every day, as I have. I bet she dances at least two dances with you tomorrow night! Of course, later, she may take issue with your appalling combat skills.” Prin pretended to consider the issue, tapping a finger against one side of her mouth. “Which, you really can’t blame her for since she’s going to rule over a kingdom of one hundred thousand subjects.”

Groaning, Philippe swiped a hand across his brow, ridding himself of the offending moisture. “I know. And it’s really not helping...you reminding me of this every chance you get,” Philippe complained.

Prin ignored him, continuing, “Well, and I can’t say that I blame her. After all, her people will be relying on her for protection. Whoever stands beside her needs to project strength and cunning on and off the battlefield. And while I don’t doubt your skills of diplomacy—I daresay there is no one better at saying so much while saying so very little of import—I don’t think your weaponry abilities would frighten a wren from its nest.”

Noticing the strain around her twitching mouth, Philippe let out a shout that echoed among the towering trees. “You wound me! And here I thought the mighty Princess of Castlelore would be forever on my side!”

Prin snorted, allowing her mirth full release. It wasn’t long before her eyes teared and her face grew sore.

Philippe bowed his head, his shaking shoulders betraying his humor. “Thanks for shoring up my spirits, Prin. I can always count on you.” He raised his eyes to meet hers, the corners crinkling slightly. “Which is why I’ve come up with a brilliant plan to win the fair Aurelia’s hand, one you will be happy to know you are an important part of.”

Still wiping tears away from her eyes, Prin took a deep breath and shook her head in silent denial.

“Oh yes,” Philippe continued with a flourish. “With the help of my best friend, my battle skills will see a drastic improvement within the next few weeks and therefore, ensure that I make an excellent showing at the lady’s own upcoming festivities.”

“Oh, no, you don’t...I can’t...I couldn’t...! You cannot really expect me to turn you into a warrior when everyone else has failed, Philippe? And before her festivities? What of my Ascension coming up? Have you forgotten the whole purpose of this cursed ball and festival?”

“Have I forgotten that my childhood playmate is about to become the ruler-in-waiting to the largest of the six kingdoms? Henrietta Charmant, Princess of Castlelore, looking for her future prince among the eligible men in all of Gailleth...” His arms swept wide, the light of retaliation illuminating his cerulean eyes. “That is, as long as she can find one willing to overlook the constant paint under her fingernails, her prowess in what are typically manly pursuits, and her odd habit of breaking into motion at the hint of a jolly tune.”

“It’s called dancing, you dunderhead. Manly pursuits, really? It’s about time men learned they’re not predestined to rule over everything simply because they say they are. And I guess it’s only fair to bring up my shortcomings since I teased you about yours, but my predicament is a bit more serious, as you well know.” Henrietta sighed, sobering. “How can I hope to find such a man, Philippe? Can you imagine any of the upstanding young noblemen among the realm’s upper echelon tolerating their future queen arriving to a feast with paint smudges on her cheek? Or, one who refuses to let them win in competitions, such as the Ascension Festival will hold? It will be a special man, indeed, willing to play a secondary role to his bride.”

“Especially when he sees you wield an axe, throw a dagger, or thrust a sword with precision toward his innards.” Philippe tossed over his shoulder, walking over to the wooden targets to release her axe from the center with two hard pulls. Yanking his from the top of the adjacent target, he added, “I would say that your normal choice of clothing will also be an issue, but any red-blooded man who sees you in a pair of breeches isn’t going to make a mouse’s squeak about the eccentricity of it.”

She looked down at her fawn-colored breeches and sighed. “Not here, in Castlelore, thanks to my equally eccentric family, you mean. But out there, among the other five kingdoms...it’ll shock the old dowagers right out of their undergarments!”

Taking her axe from Philippe’s outstretched hand, Prin added, “We both know my days of these ‘unladylike pursuits’ are coming to an end. You should see the garment of torture waiting for me up there,” she nodded toward the castle looming behind them. “Six layers of fabric on the skirt and a bodice dipped low enough to give the entire country a view of my lungs.”

“It’s not your lungs they’ll be interested in.” He grinned at her thunderous frown before sobering. “I know you’re scared, Prin. But as I told you, I will help you. If there is a man worthy of you in that ballroom tonight, I’ll know it before the last stroke of midnight.”

“I hope so, because if I have to wait until the festival, it’s hopeless. I’ll be forced to marry one of the primates from the second kingdom.” The thought caused a gurgling in her stomach.

“A St. Ayers? I mean, you could do worse than Ellacourt, but...” he trailed off, frowning.

“Yes, it is a lovely castle and gorgeous lands, from what I remember. But–” she stopped, shivering. “Just thinking of a wedding night spent with either of those two...!” Feeling helpless, she looked to Philippe in silent misery.

He winced. “Say no more. Please. But really, Prin–you cannot be serious. Surely your mother and father would never allow such a misalliance? You’d eat either one of those poor sots alive!”

“As if that matters in the end,” she huffed angrily, raising a fluttering hand to her head. “You’ve been so enamored with your fair Aurelia, you have failed to see the fate that has been staring me down, haunting both sleeping and waking moments!”

Reaching out a calming hand, Philippe took an exaggerated breath. “Easy, Prin. Breathe.”

Her eyes flashing, she did as he bid until the thrumming in her temples subsided. Not ready to drop it, however, she continued, “I can’t be named next-in-line to the throne unless I announce my chosen mate at the last stroke of midnight during the Midnight Ball. The week of games of strength and cunning leading up to it is called the ‘Ascension Festival’ for a reason,” she reminded him, rolling her eyes.

Philippe knew better than to interrupt her twice in the middle of a tirade, but he snorted at her last statement. He may not be a prince, or even hold as lofty title as most of the members of the six kingdoms, but Philippe was well-versed in how their world was run. He dropped her hand and turned his head to stare into the dense forest, letting Prin wind down.

It wasn’t long before she regained her composure. “What you don’t know, because I didn’t even learn of it until last night, was that my parents have already been approached by Lady St. Ayers, who is offering up her two stepsons like prize cows. Even my easily distracted papa could see the advantage of aligning ourselves with the second largest army.”

Philippe swung his head back, staring at her in shock. “What?”

“You heard me right. And I’m just as shocked, as much good as it will do me. At least Mama convinced him to give me time to find my own mate, but that courtesy only lasts until the end of the Midnight Ball.”

“I can’t believe the six kingdoms still follow that archaic rule. What should it matter to whom you want to bind yourself to? You’ll have an entire kingdom to govern, surely finding love can wait?”

“It has nothing to do with love, Philippe. It’s about power and forging alliances. Of course, some have found love within their matches, such as dear Mama and Papa.” She kicked at a loose rock, sighing her frustration. “But thanks to the devastation that one of our ruling ancestors caused when they married an Outbounder, modern rulers must suffer from the indignity of being forced to choose within a limited suitor pool before our ascension. Not all of us are lucky enough to find one we’re compatible with. And besides, things would be worse if they’d decided to merge forces with a more distant kingdom.”

Silence hung between them, each considering the order of their lands, of their lives, that were established long before either of their births.

“Funny, I’ve always envied your spot in the line of succession," Philippe said slowly. Brightening, he continued, "Now, I’m merely happy it is you who is doomed to rule us all, and not I.”

Prin gasped and he jumped back, narrowly escaping the axe handle swinging toward his legs.

Prin’s breath caught as Philippe’s foot snagged on a tree root. He fell in an inelegant heap with a grunt.

Smiling despite her troubles, she stepped forward, offering him a hand up.

Philippe brushed the dirt off his hands before taking hers with a sigh. Avoiding eye contact, he surveyed their surroundings before stating, "Thank you. I suppose I deserved th–"

The sudden snapping of a nearby branch caused Prin to drop into a defensive stance, swinging her axe right-side up with dizzying speed. Everything inside her reacted to the intoxicating rush of impending danger at once, flooding her senses. She glimpsed Philippe in a similar stance beside her.

Adjusting her grip, Prin controlled her breathing until it was as calm as before the interruption.

Whatever was in the woods, she was ready for it.

Chapter Four

Sinder

“Now, now, William. No need to work yourself into an early grave. Lay back and be still.” Sinder’s grandmother clucked her tongue again but offered no further rebuke.

“You can keep me locked up nice and tight when I’m in a box, Millie,” William finished before turning to his grandson. "Until then, I want to know when this boy's going to find himself a bride."

Sinder flinched. “What?”

“Yeah, I'm talking to you, you young jackanapes! I’m not getting any younger, even if I intend on outliving your grandmother.” He winked at Sinder while glaring at his wife.

“Ha!" she exclaimed. "And I suppose then you’ll be replacing me with some young, pert thing when I’m gone, you old codger!” She smoothed her hand across his forehead to brush away a flyaway hair.

Grabbing her hand in his shaky one, he raised it to his lips. “There will never be a woman who compares to you, my sweet, sassy Millie. I just wish—” Stopping to clear his throat, he patted her hand, nodding in silence.

“Yes, my sweet William. I know what troubles you.” She turned her palm up to his and linked their fingers, her eyes misting before she addressed Sinder. “Dearest boy, we know you think we’re being hard on you. But all we want is to see you settled with a woman of good birth and fortune, someone who can make sure you aren’t reliant on the charity of Garrett and Adam when we’re gone.”

“Charity!" William interrupted. "Pish, posh! They’ll turn him out 'fore I’m cold in the ground! And if they don’t, their stepmother surely will.” The veins in his neck protruded. “And you know damn well I’m right, Sinder St. Ayers, so don’t even think of pacifying me with—” A fresh set of hacking coughs made speech impossible.

“With stating I’ll be fine?” Sinder finished as soon as his grandfather settled again. “But I will be fine. I’ve got the cottage you’ve entailed to me, along with the smithy. I can make my own living forging weapons for the fighting men of the six kingdoms.”

“That’s no life for a man with St. Ayers’s blood! You, Sinder, you were meant for more! You were meant to oversee these lands, just like every generation of St. Ayers men has before.”

“A man with questionable St. Ayers’s blood, though? No one will listen to a single command from me once Garrett and Adam finally confirm what they’ve all been whispering about. What started as our stepmother’s twisted game of smearing my reputation has long since become theirs.”

“She only gets away with it because they were mere striplings when your mother was taken from us. Up until his death, your father kept her viper tongue in check, but as soon as he was thrown by that damn devil of a horse—" he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I just wish I hadn’t been caught up in my own grief while she was busy grasping for power. Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to do it, to warp your brothers’ minds against you.”

His grandparents shared a look as his grandmother nodded her head, squeezing her husband’s hand before stepping aside.

“Come here, boy,” he rasped, patting the bed. “There’s something...more...”

"Something more? I don't–"

"There's more you need to know."

The hairs on Sinder’s neck stood upright as he did as he was bid. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, waiting.

“Closer. We can’t risk anyone else hearing of this. Not yet.” He waved his grandson toward him with one near-translucent hand.

Leaning toward his chest, where the coarse white hairs peeking from his shirt reminded Sinder of the fledgling coat on a buzzard, he stopped with his ear poised inches from William’s mouth. Sinder willed himself not to flinch as the telltale scent of infection assaulted him. William took one long wheezing inhale.

“Word has arrived that the man who accused your mother of infidelity will soon be departing from the land of the living. Because of that, he wants to make a confession.”

“Lord Cowper? Confession of what? To whom?”

“To us. He won’t say what it is. One of our young stable helpers is his cook’s brother. He took great pains to send us word in private. Here, witness for yourself...” He pointed a crooked finger toward his writing desk in the corner.

Sinder stood and walked over to it, mind churning.

“It’s in the usual spot,” William gasped, his face a mask of pain as he clutched his chest.

“William?” Millie’s face was almost as pale as his as she rushed to his side.

“I’m...okay, Millie. Don’t fret.” His words were strained but the color was slowly returning.

“You’re overdoing it, and this can wait.”

"No."

You need to rest,” she commanded, fresh tears in her eyes.

“No!" He exclaimed, glaring at her. "This is too important! Now go ahead, my boy,” he said, nodding his head toward the hiding spot he’d shown Sinder as a lad.

Pulling out the small top drawer, Sinder removed some blank parchment and grabbed the letter opener stored inside. Using the pointed edge to nudge the corner of the drawer, he gingerly popped out the fake bottom. Inside lay the will he’d committed to memory at his grandfather’s request, along with a folded scrap of paper he had never seen before.

He removed it and scanned the contents. “It says, ‘There are wrongs I have committed against your family. All will be revealed at the Charmants’ Nova Ball.’ What a cryptic message. Wait, isn’t that in three days?” Sinder recalled Adam crowing recently to everyone at the breakfast table about his plans to win Henrietta Charmant, the next in line for the Castlelore throne. It was the princess’s ball, her formal introduction into society, that they would all be attending.

“Yes, and it is she you should be setting your cap for, if you had any wits about you. Her lands are adjacent to ours, she is rumored to have more gold and sapphires than the richest mines, and she commands five hundred thousand loyal subjects.”

"Five hundred thousand?"

"Or more. Paired with our three hundred thousand, think of what such power could mean!"

“I’ve heard her described as a great beauty, too,” his grandmother added slyly. “Consider your children, Sinder, dear.”

“I am, and I'm sorry, but I have no need for an ornamental wife. A blacksmith’s life will afford me no time to dance to the tune of a highborn lady." He shook his head, looking away from them. "No, I’ll be needing a woman who can hunt and cook with me, at the very least.”

“And I’ll be damned if I let you throw everything away because of one mistake that wasn’t of your making! Boy, I’ve raised you to treat this land as your own because it is. It runs in your veins, Sinder, and you’ll never be rid of it. You’ll see.” The speech appeared to sap what little energy his grandfather had left. William fell back onto the pillows, spent. “You...you need a wife to rule beside you. One who will help you bring honor back to the St. Ayers’s name. Woo her, boy,” he whispered before closing his eyes. “Promise me this.”

Meeting his grandmother’s pleading eyes, Sinder exhaled. “Yes, Grandfather. I... promise I’ll give it a shot.”

He was rewarded with the slight upward tilt of William’s mouth.

Great. And what if he succeeded in winning her? Sinder’s conscience demanded. Out of all the powerful men who would be flocking to her, untainted by whispers and rumors, surely it would not be him that she’d turn her attention to.

Comforted at the thought, he exited the bedchambers, walking toward the east wing. At the ball, he would bow, kiss her delicate hand, and say a few words before allowing her swath of admirers to take over as he faded back into the background.

Surely his grandfather couldn’t fault him for failing at something he’d never really stood a chance at winning.

Chapter Five

Prin

Training her attention on the sounds of the forest, Prin was rewarded by the snapping of more branches from directly ahead.

Whatever–or whoever–lurked just out of sight was nearly upon them.

She didn’t dare take her eyes off the thick shrubbery to surmise Philippe’s state of mind, but she knew he would have felt infinitely more confident with his bow rather than the axe she’d insisted he take in its stead.

As if reading her thoughts, she felt him shift beside her.

“Who is there? Show yourself now, unless you’d prefer to feel the sharp edge of my axe between your eyes!” Philippe bellowed into the silence, his voice remarkably unwavering.

“Don’t you mean my axe,” Prin couldn’t resist whispering, still not taking her eyes off the bushes that even now began to shake back and forth in a rhythm too fast to be caused by the light winds.

A merry voice sounded from the vegetation. “Philippe? Prin, is that you?”

Abruptly relaxing her stance and lowering her axe, Prin stared in disbelief, watching as her younger sister, Mariella, stepped into the clearing. Alone.

“Mari, I told you it’s dangerous coming out here by yourself. Where are your guards?”

“I lost them near the old willow tree,” the grey-eyed imp said, tossing her flaxen hair with a grin. “Hey, Philippe.”

Now relaxed and greeting the youngest Charmant in his typical fashion, Philippe nodded. “Hello, Miting.”

She shook out her lavender and yellow frock, her nose wrinkling. “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m almost sixteen now and that’s a baby’s name...and a horrible one, at that.”

“So? I nicknamed your sister Prin when we were but six years old, and yet I have no intention of calling her by her first name, future queen or not. Besides, I told you I’d only consider an alternative when you stopped behaving like a spoiled child.” He ignored her outraged gasp. “Evading the men who would lose their heads if something happened to you isn’t exactly a demonstration of responsible behavior.”

Philippe’s rebuke was a rare one and Prin searched his face, wondering at it. Not that he was wrong in scolding her impulsive sibling, she silently acknowledged. And he’d certainly earned the right, often taking on the role of the older brother neither of them had been blessed with.

Even still, Philippe often preferred to play a more neutral role in these types of matters.

Mari’s mouth pinched and her eyes narrowed. “Right. And I told you years ago that just because you fashion yourself as some sort of brother figure to my sister and I, doesn’t give you the right to order either of us around!”

Stepping between them and holding in a smile, Prin soothed, “Philippe, let me handle this.” Reverting to her sister’s full name to let her know she was in earnest, Prin turned to face her. “And Mariella, you know he isn’t wrong. If something happened to you, those guards would pay for it with their lives. If not from our parents, then from Philippe or myself. Do you really want that on your conscience?” She tempered her voice. “Because I do not. We’ve grown up with these men, and many of them are fathers themselves, with children of their own that need protecting.”

Mari’s pretty features settled into a mask of stubborn defiance, allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably before they slowly began to soften. Ducking her head to look at the ground her soft-soled shoes were digging into, she had the grace to look ashamed. Sighing, she raised her eyes to meet Prin’s, replying in a more subdued tone, “You’re right. It was a silly game to play, and I really should be more careful. Especially with other people’s lives.”

Prin studied her for a long moment before she was satisfied with her sincerity. “Just so. And I appreciate your willingness to reflect and grow, Mari,” she said, reaching out to give her sister’s hand a light squeeze. Mari sent her a rueful grin, which Prin returned.

Wanting to move on from their disagreement, Prin scanned the area Mari had emerged from before turning back to her with a questioning look. “What do you think could be holding up your guards? Surely, they should have caught up by now...?”

Another quick perusal of the area failed to present any signs of the castle guards whose main tasks were to follow members of the royal family when they went out alone–Castlelore grounds or not. The only exception made was for Prin, herself, and that had been hard won and involving several other concessions.

Her sister shifted from one foot to the other, picking at bits of dirt dotting her yellow satin sleeves. “I, uh...may have left a decoy path toward the river.”

“Oh, those poor men! Mari, what are we going to do with you?” Prin couldn’t hold in her laughter, even as Philippe sent her a warning look.

“Don’t encourage her,” he began, the twitching of his mouth belying his stern tone.

Mari grinned, clearly encouraged despite their best intentions. “And perhaps I also, just maybe, made footprints that lead them into looping around the caves first.” She clasped her hands in front of her, rocking back and forth.

Philippe watched her swaying and then shook his head and sighed. “Since I’ve been on the receiving end of a similar scheme, I say we go put the poor souls out of their misery before they give up, return to the castle, and rouse your parents into a frenzy.”

Mari and Prin shared a look of horror at the thought.

“Let us make haste!”

“I’ll lead the way.” Mari worried her lip. “I just hope they were smart enough to stay clear of the smallest cave. I think I heard wolf cubs in there, and...well, I doubt the momma went far.”

“Oh, Mari.” Prin shook her head, knowing the guards were heavily armed, but still not envying them a confrontation with a startled mother wolf protecting her den.

She exchanged a long-suffering look with Philippe before they both finally succumbed, their laughter echoing amongst the trees and scattering the birds nestling in the boughs.

None of the trio spied the flash of black and silver from the form crouched behind a dense shrub as its wearer waited patiently for them to leave the clearing.

They also never glimpsed it rise lithely before slinking away, disappearing back into the lush forest like a dark spectre into the void.

Chapter Six

Sinder

The clashing of steel failed to drown out the words Sinder had been trying all morning to erase: Woo her, boy. Promise me.

Despite the rigorous past hour, he sidestepped the end of his sensei’s bō with renewed vigor. Sweat acted as a coolant in the warm breeze as he dodged the shattered chips of bark dislodged from a low-hanging branch.

“Where is your head today, Sinder? If you don’t bring it to the present, its future will become its past.”

Grunting in acknowledgement, Sinder delivered a stinging tap to his sensei’s wrist with one end of the red oak. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sinder disarmed him in three moves. “You should consider committing your maxims to parchment, Sensei. I find them very motivating.” He grinned at Usami, the man he considered a brother as much as his teacher in martial arts, meditation, and spiritual guidance.

“And so, the teacher becomes the student.” Usami bowed.

After returning the sign of respect, Sinder clasped him on the shoulder. “We both know you gifted me the win. My training will have come full circle the day I can best you in an actual match.”

Usami’s mouth tilted on one side, puckering the scar that ran from browbone to chin. One black eyebrow arched, punctuating his silence.

Sinder sighed. “Yes, I know. You’re going to tell me to find the beauty in taking my time.” It had been one of many maxims driven into him since their first meeting.

“Why would I tell you what you already know?”

Rolling his eyes, Sinder took a towel from the young man who shadowed Usami’s every move. “Thank you, Yuuto.”

The apprentice bowed, his long braid sliding behind one shoulder before he hurried to pick up his master’s dislodged staff. He moved to the edges of their practice area, standing in silent readiness.

“Sinder, I know when your mind is weighted. What troubles you?”

Sinder took a moment to tether his thoughts, sifting through them as Usami had taught him, before plucking the one that anchored them all. “Grandfather wants me to secure the hand of Princess Charmant. He thinks it’ll protect me from whatever grim fate Adam, Garrett, and Leonora have in mind.”

An arrested look hit Usami’s face before it shuttered. “Princess Charmant? I’ve heard she is as lovely as a flower, as graceful as a soaring crane, and as rare as a purebred Kiso. You could do far worse.”

“High praise, coming from you, my friend. Perhaps I should send you to try for her hand. It would certainly save me the trouble.”

A loud snort erupted. “My family comes from a long line of fishermen. Although I am proud of both my humble roots and current elevated status, I doubt the future ruler of the largest kingdom in Gailleth will find my attentions konomashī.”

“Which is exactly the problem,” Sinder sighed. “You are the most honorable man I know, Usami, besides Grandfather. How can I share my table and bed with a woman who will always be at odds with you?”

The smirk returned, and then disappeared just as quickly.

“Okay, out with it. That’s twice your face has betrayed you. We both know you’re incapable of keeping a himitsu from me forever, anyway.”

“Not incapable. Sometimes, it is best to focus on catching one hare, rather than two, lest they both get away.”

Sinder shook his head but remained silent, long used to Usami’s ways. One thing he had learned in the eleven years he’d trained under Usami was that the sensei only said what he felt was necessary, when he felt it was needed.

“Alright, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, excuse us. Did we miss play time?” A stocky figure entered the courtyard, an arresting woman clasping his arm. Her golden beauty provided an unfortunate contrast to her companion’s sallow, pitted countenance.

“Not at all, Adam. As I’ve told you several times, we’d be delighted to have you join us. Isn’t that so, Usami?”

Only Sinder could see the stiffness in the sensei’s fluid bow. “Of course, Lord St. Ayers.” There were no soft feelings between him, Sinder’s stepmother, or his siblings.

“Lord St. Ayers? Really? Has someone been putting on airs?” Leonora purred the words, her honey-brown eyes opening wide in mock inquiry. She ignored Usami as usual, making Sinder’s teeth clench at the slight to his friend. “Last I heard, Adam and Garrett were the only men in this family able to carry the title of ‘Lord,’ my poor misguided stepson. If only your father had lived long enough to claim you as his son after the truth of your mother’s indiscretions came to light,” she sighed. “Speaking of... you’ve reminded me of why I came out here, dear. I wanted to make sure you weren’t thinking of embarrassing the family by attending Princess Charmant’s Nova Ball. This is the most anticipated event leading up to the ascension festivities. Simply everyone who is anyone will be there.” Her inference that Sinder was a nobody was as common as his brothers’ insipid taunts.

Sinder snorted. “Exactly, which is why I’m surprised you’ll be attending, Leonora. With Grandmother holding the title of Duchess and your own title of Lady St. Ayers being rendered a mere formality now that my father is gone...” He let the meaning float between them. While she, Garrett, and Adam rarely missed an opportunity to impugn the brothers’ mother, it was rare for Sinder to offer an answering insult. It made them much more effective.

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Despite the ridiculousness of your family’s succession rules, as the stepmother of the future Duke of Ellacourt, I am expected—nay, welcomed—at these events. But you, dear? Well, like I said, your attendance will only provide fodder for the gossips and embarrass us all. Besides, I’ve heard your grandfather’s health is fading fast. Perhaps it will be best if he has your...protection... while we are away. I wouldn’t want anything to happen while he is in such a vulnerable state.”

Usami’s quick intake of air echoed Sinder’s.

Although Leonora had been relentless in destroying his mother’s good name and eroding his chances of claiming his inheritance, she had always been careful to show the proper deference to Sinder’s grandparents. They had the power to remove her to a lesser holding until his grandfather’s death, after all. He had always believed the knowledge provided the only barrier to an outright attack.

Judging by her emboldened words, it appeared that particular protection no longer existed.

Any hesitation about pursuing the princess disappeared at the realization he’d been a fool to believe Leonora or her puppets would leave him in peace after Grandfather’s passing.

“Quite right, Stepmother. Your concern does you credit. But please don’t worry yourself, for Usami has just agreed to stay with Grandfather while we are all at the ball. Isn’t that right, Usami?”

“Of course. Yuuto and I look forward to bringing our katana swords, too, as the Duke has expressed such a strong interest in them.” Leaning forward slightly, he smiled a tooth-baring grin. “They are rumored by my people to bestow gifts from the afterlife upon their chosen owner.”

Adam looked quickly between Leonora and Usami. “What kind of gifts? And what do you mean ‘their chosen owner?’”

“The Tadashi katanas form attachments to the purest of hearts that yield them. An extension of this bond includes protection by the warriors in our bloodline. Whenever evil draws near, our ancestors will not rest until the katana tip has tasted from the very center of the dark hearts that threaten its chosen one.”

Adam’s eyes widened.

With an indelicate snort, Leonora tossed her jewel-encrusted braid before turning a shoulder to Usami. “What nonsense! Suit yourself, Sinder. But you’ll have to find your own way there. Our carriage will be full.” And with a vicious tug on Adam’s arm causing him to stumble beside her, she disappeared behind the stone wall.

Waiting until their footsteps faded, Sinder turned to find himself under scrutiny.

“Your grandfather is not safe behind these walls, as long as that one is near.”

“I know,” Sinder sighed. “I just came to the same conclusion, my friend. That’s why I’ve decided to woo the princess.” He lifted a hand to rub his temple. “The great heavens help her if I succeed.”

“And the great heavens help all here if you do not,” Usami said grimly.

Chapter Seven

Sinder

The two men grew quiet, Sinder at the sobering thought of his family’s kingdom under Leonora, Garrett, and Adam’s rule, and Usami in....well, whatever thoughts were currently turning his face contemplative.

His sensei broke the silence first. “Sinder, when is the last time you danced?”

“In recent days. The obliging companion to a member of Grandmother’s sewing circle stayed for a few ni—”

“I mean with a highborn lady,” Usami interrupted with a raised hand.

A memory of a light-filled chamber, its walls whizzing by in a blur as he tried to focus on the smiling face of his mother, filled Sinder’s head. “When I was ten. My mother taught me several of the dances.” He welcomed the buried memories, lost in the radiance of a mother’s love that had shone in her eyes as she laughed at his stumbles. Determined to prepare him for a life at court, she’d kept at the lessons until the two were sailing smoothly around the ballroom—despite the assault on her toes his uncoordinated body had waged.

“Do you remember the steps?”

Snapped back to the present, Sinder replied, “You mean you don’t think I can win the princess’s heart without promenading around a dance floor like a strutting peacock?” He scoffed. “That plays more towards Adam’s strength.”

“Exactly. And you can bet he’ll take full advantage of it to whisk her away anytime you two are alone. What have I told you about preparing for battle?”

“Eliminate the known advantages and you’ll be better prepared for the unknown ones.”

Usami tilted his head, his eyes never leaving Sinder’s.

Groaning, Sinder conceded. “Fine. But if I’m doing this, I’m going all in. It won’t help me if Adam wins simply by rescuing the princess from my clumsy feet.”

Nodding, his lips twitching, Usami accepted his surrender with a dip of his head. “Dancing is no different than the movements between you and an opponent. Except your partner is usually more appealing,” he grinned.

“And hopefully smells better,” Sinder quipped.

The two chuckled.

“One would hope,” Usami acknowledged. “Although, I do not think you have much to worry about, considering you will be partnering a lady of refinement.”

Sighing, Sinder nodded. “Well, since we seem to have a shortage of highborn ladies willing to teach the bastard of St. Ayers how to dance, looks like my partner will be the antithesis to that. No offense, Sensei.”

His grin fading, Usami sighed before signaling to Yuuto. “We have need of your lute skills. Lord St. Ayers must prepare for wooing.”

The usually sober face erupted in a smile. “Yes, Sensei!" He ran to the instrument and walked briskly back with it before asking, "Which tune would suit you first?”

“Perhaps the death march,” Sinder ventured helpfully. “In ode to the quiet life I had always hoped for.”

“If the life meant for us was so easy to determine, there would be little point in living it.”

“You know I have no idea what you are talking about.” Sinder shook his head, turning to give the now silent youth an encouraging grin. He knew he needn't have bothered. Yuuto was used to their oddities.

Usami sobered. “And you know before all is done, you will.”

“That’s why I regularly place my life in your hands, Usami.” He clasped him by the forearm.

“Yes, just as I must one day place mine in yours.”

An icy-hot current of foreboding moved along Sinder’s spine. While Usami was known for his mastery of several different fighting styles and most of the weaponry found in the six kingdoms, he was known even more for his visions.

Specifically, the accuracy of them.

Yuuto adjusted his lute and began strumming, a knowing grin lighting his youthful features.

Sinder recognized the haunting notes of a death march and managed an answering chuckle. His gaze swung back to Usami and his throat tightened at the sight that greeted him, effectively cutting off the sound.

Usami stared back at him, the haunting sadness Sinder had glimpsed on his visage disappearing as his sensei bowed deeply, raising a slender hand toward him.

“My lord. Shall we begin?”

Chapter Eight

Prin

“What is the purpose of this, Mother? I look like a half-starved goose being trussed up like a prized boar.”

“Oh, Henrietta, you have the funniest way of describing yourself. You are lovely, dear. Although, I see your point about this dress. This was the only one Monsieur Beauregard did not create, and it shows, I’m afraid. Such an exquisitely tiny form being swallowed up by such a full skirt seems to be at odds with the outcome one would hope for, doesn’t it dear?”

She clapped her hands and immediately two ladies’ maids appeared. “Have Princess Henrietta’s underskirts thinned out by three layers before the ball tonight. Leave the sparkly one, of course.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” they replied in unison.

‘The sparkly one’ contained hundreds of tiny sapphires and diamonds set in delicate patterns. The display of wealth was a vulgar one and something Prin’s family usually frowned upon.

She waited until the gown was removed, and she was in her normal breeches before bringing the issue up.

“About the skirt... why are we breaking with tradition and showing off the bounties of our mines? I thought we ‘always aim for humble and benevolent’?” Sighing, Prin fiddled with the ice-blue satin shoes she had reluctantly agreed to wear under the voluminous dress.

“Although our own subjects are taken care of, there are those among the other kingdoms who are not faring as well. It appears the nobles believe one cannot be humane as well as prosperous. This is our way of suggesting otherwise without upsetting our people.”

Prin had heard whispers of the appalling conditions the lowborns suffered in some of the other kingdoms. It was the reason Gailleth had the Outbounders to contend with. Defectors of the six realms had broken off before she was born and created a seventh kingdom that was not recognized by the others. Restoring order to Gailleth was one of the few things Prin looked forward to once she ascended the throne and her mother descended hers.

Her mother’s, the mighty Queen Reina’s, small defiance reminded her of the important role her parents had played during their rule.

Prin grabbed her mother’s hand after a passing maidservant had been instructed to remove her shoes ‘and keep them away from the princess until the danger of her ruining them had likely passed.’ “You and father are such a clever team. How can I hope to replicate that with a stranger in just a matter of weeks?”

Lightly squeezing her daughter’s fingers, the queen laughed. “You cannot. It took us decades to get to where we are today, dear. No need to rush things. You are of noble birth and have been raised by the best tutors in deportment that Gailleth has to offer. And although your father and I didn’t always agree on other parts of your education, you’ve been raised to survive—even thrive–in the face of any challenge. You are much stronger than I was when first entering my ascension.” She ran a hand down Prin’s cheek. “I am so very proud of the woman you have become. Trust in your abilities as your father and I do...you may just surprise yourself.” Chuckling, she continued, “And besides, I promised you I wouldn’t step down until you felt ready to rule.”

Prin looked out at the flurry of activity as a steaming bath was being prepared. The scent of jasmine and gardenias filled the bedchamber, but she was too unsettled to enjoy the aroma.

The queen raised Prin’s chin gently until she met her violet eyes. “A good, strong, nobleman will be waiting for you in that ballroom, Henrietta, I know it. Everything else just takes time.”

“What if I want more than that?” She met her mother’s startled look, her stomach clenching.

“What else is there?” the queen asked, the faint lines of her forehead deepening.

For a moment, Prin considered having the same talk with her she’d had with herself every night since she’d turned nineteen. Noting the happiness shining from behind her mother’s confusion, she let the matter drop. “You’re right. I’m just terrified of a night spent smiling until my cheeks hurt. And what if I meet this nobleman and I have cabbage between my teeth, Mother?”

The distraction worked and her mother’s face cleared. Prin found herself barraged with a complete telling of all the feminine tricks a lady needed to handle any crisis when marriageable men were close at hand.

Nodding and smiling at the appropriate intervals, she secretly longed for the solace of her art. Although, she was afraid the comfort she usually found amongst the twists and turns of the brushes would be lost on her now. The massive cleanup effort it would take after she’d painted away her worries would only create more of a fuss. Prin could only hope that when her choice of mate became part ruler of her fate, he accepted all of her, including the messier parts.

“It’s time to clean you up,” her mother’s voice broke through her reverie.

“Of course,” she replied, moving toward the tub as if every pore wasn’t shrinking from the perfumed water.

Chapter Nine

Sinder

Cursing under his breath as the wheels of yet another carriage passed close to Gus’s hooves, Sinder smoothed a hand down his horse’s speckled coat. “Easy, Gus. I think that was the last one. We’re arriving a bit late, thanks to Grandmother’s ministrations.”

Gus’s answering snort punctured the silence along the shadowed path as they turned toward the spires barely visible above the rocky skyline. Sinder had learned that Castlelore rested among some of Gailleth’s most austere landscapes. Set high upon a cliff, it was considered impenetrable from the churning sea it overlooked. To access the front of the castle, one had to pass through a tunnel carved through the belly of an enormous rock. His grandfather had warned him that it was always guarded to prevent a surprise attack.

Facing the giant rock, Sinder realized ‘small mountain’ may be a more apt description. He nodded to yet another pair of the king’s soldiers before entering the tunnel. Torches flanked each side of the rounded walls every few feet, providing welcome warmth as well as light.

Gus shook his head side-to-side, sidestepping.

“Shh, boy, you’re right. I wouldn’t want to be caught here in the dark either. But it’s well-lit and welcoming this night. We’re not here for dark purposes, and so face no evil, my friend. We were invited. In a fashion.”

Gus snorted but continued forward.

“Well, if you’re going to be a stickler about the details. Fine. We may not be entirely welcome, but we are here to find a way to protect the ones we love. And what could be more well-intentioned than that?”

An answering whinny brought a smile to Sinder’s lips; the first one today, he realized. There had been little cause among the whirlwind of fittings and reminder lessons on palace comportment his grandmother had insisted on. The absurdity had been worth the gleam in his grandfather’s eyes as soon as Sinder had entered the chamber and announced the seriousness of his intentions toward winning the princess’s hand.

His grandparents both knew it had been one thing for him to agree to woo her and quite another to focus all his efforts on it. The lessons had commenced moments later.

Gus sidestepped a divot in the road the length of a carriage wheel, bringing Sinder out of his musings. Exiting the rock, he observed the additional guards standing at attention. The Charmant’s weren’t taking any chances with their daughter’s introduction to the realm.

Eager to quell the nerves now threatening, Sinder urged Gus into a trot.

As he rounded the last bend, he was struck by the sheer size of the palace. The stone towers flanked each side of the imposing structure, lending their height to serve as a perfect vantage point, and the width to shelter nearly all the residents of Ellacourt.

Sinder frowned. With nearly double that in their kingdom, surely Castlelore’s subjects weren’t all behind the castle walls? S where were they all housed? In the dense forest opposite the seaside, was the only logical guess. He was curious how the defenses were set up for such an area.

Wanting to ensure Gus’s comfort and delay the inevitable stares and whispers, Sinder waved off the stable boy reaching for Gus’s reins as they entered the gates. “He’s a finicky one. Only allows my touch. Just point me to the stables and I’ll get him settled in with no one the wiser.”

The lad, no older than thirteen, nodded in agreement, stepping away from Gus. “That way, milor’. You can house him in the first stall to the right.”

“Excellent. Thank you for your understanding...?”

“Odis.”

“Much obliged, Odis.” Tossing him a coin from the pouch his grandmother had pressed into his hand, Sinder steered Gus toward the stables. The gold clinked as he tucked them back in his boot. The coins had caused some friction between him and his grandmother, until she had revealed their origin. “Your grandfather made me promise I wouldn’t let you leave without them, Sinder,” she had said. “Besides, they and many more were always meant to be yours, whether now or after he is gone. He said he can’t think of a better use for them than to champion your efforts toward protecting our way of life.” She had paused to take both his hands in hers. “And make no mistake, my boy, it is our way of life at stake. Leonora and your brothers will have us all turned out, including anyone who has served us faithfully, as soon as William breathes his last breath. And then they’ll be no one to check their greed and cruelty.”

He had left her with a grateful kiss on her cheek and the assurance that he knew what was at stake.

Once he’d made Gus comfortable, Sinder ran his hand down the horse’s hindquarters. “It is fortunate I am not easily swayed from a path, wouldn’t you say, boy?” he crooned.

Gus looked up from the fresh hay for but a moment before returning to his feast.

Satisfied his horse was comfortable, Sinder gave him one last reassuring pat before turning to let himself out of the stall.

A melodic voice stopped him and without knowing why, he ducked down, hiding behind the wooden door.

“Oh, don’t scold, Philippe. This is the first moment I’ve had to myself since taking my place in the receiving line. It’s been agony smiling and commenting on the cleverness of a young woman’s dressmaker or a nobleman’s piece of jewelry. Especially when all I really want is to dance. I mean, this dress!”

“Has shocked half of the kingdom while the rest will be beating down the doors of their seamstresses tomorrow to have one made just like it,” a masculine voice, heavily laden with cynical appreciation, responded. “Prin, what possessed you to wear such a concoction, and at your Nova Ball, no less?”

Curious, Sinder hazarded a peek through a space in the slats of the door. He could only make out flashes of a pale blue gauzy material peeking from each side of the man’s green and burnished gold coat. How he managed to position himself so perfectly as to thwart Sinder’s view of the woman was a frustrating puzzle.

“It was the happiest of disasters, really! Although, knowing Mari, I doubt it was an accident.”

“Mariella? What did she have to do with it?” His tone betrayed a brotherly exasperation, a condition Sinder had been very familiar with prior to his mother’s death. Long before Leonora sunk her hooks into Adam and Garrett, the three young boys had acted as normal brothers, often playing pranks on one another.

“Well, mother had one of the maids take the original dress down to the sewing room to remove a couple layers of the underskirt. It seems a mouse got loose and left his mark—in several different spots, I’m told,” she giggled. “Mari pulled out this dress, claiming it was too long and not her style and that she was about to send it back to the dressmakers. I fell in love with it and no matter how much mama tried to talk me out of wearing it, I grew more convinced it was the perfect dress for tonight.”

A rustling of fabric prefaced an enchanting peal of laughter. “Look! I can move and breathe in it, Philippe! Now, let’s stop wasting the time I could be spending dancing in a frock clearly designed for it. Have you spotted any worthy contenders for the future ruler of the six kingdoms?”

This conversation just grew a hundred times more interesting, Sinder thought. These two knew the princess, from the sound of it. Perhaps it would be the perfect time to announce his presence. Before he could lift the latch, Gus nipped his coattails. Reaching behind his back to swat the horse away, he almost missed the man’s answer.

“Not yet. I thought perhaps the Earl of Siresden, but after five minutes in his company, I decided I must have lost my mind to even have considered him.”

“I could have told you that,” the lady replied, humor lighting her voice. “I’ve had two conversations with Wulfe, which were enough to convince me that no lady would tolerate his biting tongue long enough to find connubial bliss. Were it with me, he would have met Delicate shortly after the wedding night, if not on it.”

Delicate? What was that, her pet? Sinder had learned just this morning that unmarried ladies of the court were keeping woodland creatures as pets. This one appeared to be among them. Hopefully, Henrietta Charmant was not. The thought of taking care of a wife and kingdom was daunting enough. There was no need to add a twitching squirrel or marauding raccoon to the pile.

“Don’t worry, Prin. The evening has just begun. What could be so hard in finding a princess the man of her royal dreams?”

“Right. Ask me that again at the end of the evening.”

“I told you, I’ll have it done before the stroke of midnight.”

“Care to place a friendly wager on that?” Her challenge surprised Sinder, but her companion was clearly used to her bold requests.

“Name your stakes.”

“If you find an acceptable potential before midnight tonight, I will agree to tutor you in any physical pursuit of your choice.”

Sinder’s eyebrows rose at the invitation, although he admired her brashness. He found nothing amiss with a woman wanting to be the purveyor of her own fate. Clearly, he had mistaken their relationship. This Philippe was a lucky bastard.

“And if I don’t?”

“You must agree to back me up with Mother and Father.”

“Prin—”

“Just think about it, Philippe, please.” Her voice softened and Sinder found himself wanting to pledge his assistance in his stead.

Focus on the woman you came here for.

“Fine. You know there is little I can deny you, Prin. Of course, you can count on my support.”

“Good,” she sighed. “Now, can we please go back into the ballroom? This dress is begging to take a twirl around the dance floor.”

The unmistakable sound of a door opening and closing on iron hinges heralded the couple’s return into the palace.

Confirming he was alone again in the stables, Sinder turned, nodding to Gus. “Good call, my friend. Now we’ve got our plans drawn. Time to set them into place.”

Leaving his horse to enjoy the palace stable’s bounty, Sinder followed the path the unknowingly helpful lord and lady had traversed. He hoped the smell of the stable wasn’t following him into the overcrowded ballroom. Although, he was sure it was all part of Leonora’s plan—to have him arriving with the scent of sweat and horse, putting off the good people of the realm even before her whispers started to work.

Sinder had done his best to thwart her by having Gus freshly washed this afternoon and by packing a fresh pair of breeches in his saddlebag. It had only added a few moments to his trip to stop along a thick part of the woods and make the change.

Hoping some strong spirits would help mask any residual scents as well as bolster his resolve, Sinder caught the eye of a servant bearing drinks on a silver tray. The ruddy-faced lad drew near, eyeing Sinder’s simple attire haughtily amid offering him a glass.

Sinder downed it in one long gulp before trading it for another. The fruity sweetness was unexpected. When he lowered his eyes to the servant’s, he stifled a grin as the man’s eyes widened to the size of a dessert plate.

“My first time here,” Sinder told him with a wink before turning away. Now, where was that gilded coat?

It was a few moments before he could make out individual details of the room’s occupants. Sinder had never seen so many colorful silks, satin, and lace in one room. And those were just from the noblemen. The ladies added to the kaleidoscope with towering feathers, various bows, and fabric flowers bedecking their graceful forms. Jewelry set with precious stones encircled the necks and wrists of each. Some had large drops bobbing from their earlobes while others waved showstopping rings from their busy hands.

Sinder feared for the safety of many an eye in the room and welcomed the protection his greater height provided. It appeared a common affliction of the nobility was to accentuate their conversations with animated hand gestures and snapping fans.

The picture as a whole would be intimidating if not for the comforting lack of ostentation found among the décor of the elegant white and black ballroom. Sinder had learned that Castlelore encompassed some of the richest sapphire mines in Gailleth, yet one would not discern it from the understated décor. Looking down at his own stark black coat and breeches, accented only with minimal bits of white lace, Sinder felt more aligned with the room’s theme than its current guests.

“The blinding assortment of jewels in this room would lift all of Castlelore’s lowborn out of poverty.”

Sinder turned slowly toward the familiar voice, tamping down the telltale light of joy at discovering Philippe, the man from the stables, at his shoulder. Determined to win his approval, and with it, a meeting with the princess, Sinder relaxed his stance.

“Not just Castlelore, but all of Gailleth, too, I suspect. Although, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard Castlelore having issues with poverty or treating their subjects badly, as other kingdoms have been accused of.”

Philippe moved to stand in front of Sinder.

“True. I’ve always enjoyed my visits to the castle for that very reason. I’ve never seen you here before, though,” he added. “I’m Philippe Dormir, the Baron of Thistlecrown. And you are, milord?”

“Sinder St. Ayers,” Sinder answered, watching him closely.

Philippe looked puzzled for a split second before hiding the expression behind his raised glass. “A pleasure to meet you.” He took a moment to survey the room.

Sinder willed away his smile, noting the second Philippe settled on his preferred attack. “I’m familiar with Adam and Garrett St. Ayers, and of course, the current Duke and Duchess of Ellacourt, William and Mildred St. Ayers. Relations of yours?”

“Yes, the Duke and Duchess of Ellacourt are my grandparents and Adam and Garrett are my brothers.” Let him chew on that.

The curiosity was burning from behind his eyes and Sinder had to take another large sip to hide his grin. Philippe’s self-appointed task for the lovely Prin wasn’t an easy one but he seemed committed to winning their wager.

“Ah, would you perhaps be the mysterious eldest St. Ayers’s brother?” His distaste was obvious from the pursing of his mouth.

Sinder sighed. This could be a problem.

Chapter Ten

Sinder

Usami’s voice cut through his subconscious: A prize is always made sweeter through bitter efforts. Grimacing, Sinder perused the dance floor for signs of the blue-gowned Prin. She would likely make a more willing accomplice.

Unsuccessful, he turned back to Philippe. “Yes, I would. I’ve lived a bit of a reclusive life since my parents’ death but am heartily looking forward to rejoining society.”

“I’m sorry for prying, I remember hearing about the loss of your mother and father. My condolences, Lord St. Ayers.”

Sinder could feel Philippe’s withdrawal and was puzzled by the abrupt cooling of his tone. Had Leonora’s rumors already reached the palace? He was certain she’d kept her vitriol closer to home, preferring to wait to spill her poison at the most advantageous time. Like tonight, if she caught him here, he thought with a frown. Which meant he must hurry to push his own plan forward.

Focusing on Philippe’s half-turned face, Sinder leaned in conspiratorially. “Just between us men, I’m not much for the endless balls and social chatter.”

To his relief, Philippe refocused on him. “Really? I thought I was the only one to feel that way. Good to see there are other like-minded men of the realm in attendance tonight.”

Ah. So, that was it. The princess wasn’t a big fan of society. It was a surprising find in a member of the royal family. Surprising, but welcome. Sinder felt the first hint of curiosity stir about the princess as an individual, rather than merely a solution to his family’s problems. “I agree. Of course, I’ll have to do my duty once I take a bride.”

“Oh ho, is it like that? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I know many of our peers, marriageable daughters included. Maybe I can help. What type of lady catches your eye?”

Reaching into the small collection of things he had learned about the princess, Sinder answered. “I tend to favor spirited blondes of short to medium height, of good family, and willing to give me heirs, to start. So much depends on the individual, wouldn’t you say?”

Philippe did a plausible job of considering his preferences. “Yes, indeed. Spirited blondes, hmm? I think I know just the—”

A commotion interrupted him. The room was suddenly buzzing with whispers and mumblings.

“That dress!”

“Scandalous!”

“Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Where is she going? I hope she passes quite close to us!”

“Ask her to dance, son. Now!”

The memory of a similar scenario caused a few beads of sweat to form along Sinder’s hairline. Taking a deep breath, he turned to see what had caught the crowd’s attention, thankful that it wasn’t him, this time.

A path was opening on the marble floor with the same precision of a scythe wielded across a field. And parting it was the most alluring woman Sinder had ever laid eyes upon. Staring and beyond caring who noticed, he watched as the sorceress—for how could she be anything but—approached.

Her long hair, as pale a blonde as the wheat their farmers tended, bounced in shiny curls that teased with each landing. Indigo eyes speared him as she approached, her dark lashes narrowing when Sinder held her gaze too long for politeness. Strawberry-hued lips, so plump they begged to be plucked, tightened in annoyance.

Even as her body’s cues shouted that he’d stepped across the lines of propriety, Sinder couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to her form, delighting in each womanly curve. Her dress, the object of most of the room’s fascination judging from the envious looks and comments, made her look like she was rising from the heavens. Unlike most of the rounded necklines in the room, this one was cut straight across the tops of her breasts before it plummeted deep between them. The sharp lines were softened by the blue gauze material gathered and stretched across the bodice, ending in off-the-shoulder sleeves that landed at her elbows. The same material flowed to the floor, swirling around her with all the fluidity of the sea.

The formidable beauty of Castlelore—in human form.

“Philippe,” she greeted his new acquaintance as something teased the corners of Sinder’s mind.

“Bored of poor Lord Bellows, Prin?” Philippe smiled as he brought her hand to his lips. His voice was low enough that only their ears could catch his words.

Prin. Of course. Sinder's brow uncreased. The unusual blue material of her dress. Philippe’s paramour and not his for the taking. His hands curled inward at the thought.

The vision raised a delicately arched brow. “As if one could find an entire dance filled with a litany of herbal remedies for warts anything but fascinating?”

“Oh, no, surely he didn’t,” Philippe’s smile slipped. “Although, he is quite knowledgeable about the local flora and fauna. Things that could one day come in handy as a husband.”

And with that peculiar lead-in, Philippe turned to Sinder. “So sorry, Lord St. Ayers. We are being terribly rude. Allow me to introduce you to Castlelore’s most precious gem, the Princess Henrietta Charmant.”

Sinder managed to hide his shock as Philippe took her hand, placing it in Sinder’s.

“Princess Charmant, meet Sinder St. Ayers, the eldest grandson of the Duke of Ellacourt.”

She nodded her head, her eyes never leaving Sinder’s as she responded. “Just Lady Charmant, for now, dearest Philippe. You know the title is not a guarantee until I am properly matched.”

Bowing, Sinder closed his fingers around her hand, wanting to feel if the skin was as satiny smooth as it appeared. It was. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess Charmant.” Brushing his lips across her fingers, he shot an eyebrow up in blatant challenge. She’d have to ignore a lifetime of lessons in comportment to denounce his inference of being her match.

Her mouth flattened, but she did not refute his claim. It was her eyes that betrayed her thoughts.

It seemed Princess Charmant wasn’t easily impressed by shows of arrogance and power.

Good. Neither was he.

Chapter Eleven

Prin

Disappointed with the arrogant response from the angelically handsome stranger, Prin scanned the room, hoping for a late-arrival savior. She spied a couple at the far corner of the ballroom, and her mood lifted. It was clear to everyone there that King Zenon and Queen Reina had eyes only for each other.

Prin’s mother sparkled like the sun’s rays in a lemon yellow ballgown while her father looked appropriately majestic in his white silk waistcoat and breeches. The only allowance the king made to his official court attire was in the silver thread woven throughout his vest. It highlighted the silver at his temples, which glistened when he leaned down to whisper in his wife’s ear.

Ever since she could remember, Prin’s parents had been open in their affections. Languid looks, beaming smiles, and an inability to keep from touching each other made it uncomfortable for most people to remain in their company for long.

Eccentric, Prin had heard them called in hushed whispers among the castle corridors.

She found them utterly charming. However, being a witness to their love had ruined any chances at being happily settled with something less.

As she continued perusing the ballroom, Prin despaired of how much less she’d likely have to accept. That is, if she wanted to ascend the throne.

“Lord St. Ayers was just telling me he hasn’t been among society for long, Prin. Perhaps you could introduce him to some of Gailleth’s loyal families?”

It wasn’t difficult to discern Philippe’s eagerness to throw her into the Ellacourt heir’s path, despite the man’s obvious ego. Admittedly, Prin was curious. She’d assumed she knew everything about the six kingdoms, and yet here was the heir to the second largest one, as much a mystery to her as to what about his plain attire—and obvious good looks—had drawn her from across the room.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Prin gave in with a shrug. Perhaps there was more to him than his belief that women should drop at his feet. And if not, she’d enjoy proving his ego wrong.

Beaming up at him and determined to put all her tutors’ lessons to good use, Prin slipped her arm through his. “I’d be delighted.” She silenced a murmur of appreciation at the feel of corded muscles hidden beneath the thick fabric covering them.

Clearly, this was no idle lord.

“Come, let us begin with the Countess of Alderscroll, who is behind you,” she continued smoothly. “Her granddaughter, Lady Crimson Haywood, and I have been friends since we were in leading strings.”

Shooting Philippe a wink behind Lord St. Ayers’s back as they spun toward the Countess, Prin stumbled. Immediately, she was caught and steadied in a strong grip.

“Thank you, Lord St. Ayers, I’m not usually so clumsy,” she trilled, lifting her eyes to his while doing her best to ignore the frantic thrumming of her pulse.

The heat radiating from his stormy greys threatened to cause another misstep.

“I’m happy to be of assistance, Princess Charmant. In fact, I’m happy to offer my protection in any form you may need it.”

Prin’s mouth dropped open at his honeyed tone. The cheekiness of the big oaf!

Before she could offer the scathing reply his invitation warranted, he continued, “It seems we’ve drawn some attention. Just say the word and I’ll be happy to escort you somewhere less crowded.”

What? They’d drawn attention? Tearing her eyes from his, Prin found herself staring into a sea of curious onlookers. He was right, which meant the nobleman wasn’t propositioning her; he was offering her refuge from the gossipmongers. Her anger dissolved in an instant.

The ballroom shrunk as everyone moved to the center of the floor, surrounding them. Women whispered in the ears of their companions before catching the princess’s look and abruptly ending whatever they wanted to say next.

Busybodies.

Determined to give them a reason to whisper, Prin directed the full weight of her grin at the tense man beside her. “So we have! But, as most of them have known me since I was in short strings, I’d wager it is you who fascinates them, Lord St. Ayers.”

“Do you do that often, princess?”

“Do what?”

“Wager on things you aren’t certain of?”

His tone was light but there was a glint in his eyes that caused her breath to hitch. It was as if he could see deep into the hidden parts of her, the ones she’d never shared with another person. Discomfited, Prin tilted her head, masking her uncertainty behind a bold smile. “Only one way to find out, Lord St. Ayers.”

“And how does your Highness suggest I do that?”

“Dance with me and I’ll tell you.”

“I thought you wanted to introduce me to your friends?”

“No, Philippe suggested you’d benefit from meeting them and I was offering my help. Judging from their reactions, I’m not so sure hours spent answering their inane questions are quite what you had in mind. But if I’m mistaken—”

He shuddered and Prin hid a grin while rearranging her skirts.

“Not at all. Lead the way.” He offered his arm, turning his body to shield her from the ever-growing crowd.

Prin forgot her annoyance and grabbed his arm eagerly. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Chapter Twelve

Sinder

Swinging Henrietta Charmant in his arms while awaiting her reply almost made the past several moments of dread worth it.

One, two, three. Bow, spin, and turn. Usami had been right. Without the recent lessons, he would have looked the fool: Adam’s interference bedamned.

A quick scan of the dance floor’s perimeter allowed Sinder’s shoulders to relax when he failed to spot either of his brothers or his stepmother. After years spent not caring what they were up to, it was irksome to realize he was suddenly vulnerable to their attacks.

“No. I do not usually wager on anything less than a sure thing,” the princess finally managed.

Sinder hurried to conceal an ill-timed double-step. His eyes flew to her face, but her flushed cheeks and dancing eyes offered little explanation for the lie.

“But recently, I’ve found myself involved in a couple of them and I don’t know why,” she let out in a rush as their hands rejoined.

Pleased by her trust, Sinder hid it behind a raised eyebrow. “Boredom?”

“Perhaps.” She gnawed on her bottom lip, sending a jolt of desire through him as he considered replacing her teeth with his own. Wouldn’t that give the good people of the realm something to whisper about?

“A little fear, too, I think.”

He would have brushed off her comment as a show of feminine wiles had he not known her heart belonged to another. Still, there was something in her tone. Searching her face, Sinder marked the haunted look in her eyes. “Anything a stranger can help with?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

There was no mistaking the challenge in the depths of her eyes.

The music increased in tempo and Sinder realized he was enjoying the dance. Who knew how much of a difference a graceful partner could make?

“In the meantime, tell me about yourself. Such as why I’ve never heard a word about you, Lord St. Ayers?”

The intricacies of the steps afforded him a moment to consider his reply. How much did he really want to reveal about his circumstances? Too much and she’d shun him in the middle of the dance floor. Yet, too little, and Sinder knew it would allow his stepmother and brothers the perfect opening to inject their poison.

“A purported family indiscretion forced me into a quieter life than I may have led otherwise. Unfortunately, I am still vulnerable to the purveyor of this questionable truth,” he finally settled on.

“A family scandal, then? And someone is foolish enough to threaten you with it? I am shocked.”

“Family scandals are rare within the realm?” Judging from the pointed looks and whispers around them, he’d wager not.

Her tinkling laughter filled his ears. “Not only are they not rare, but they are often used to maintain pecking order among the noble families. It never fails that when one family improves their circumstances—say, through an advantageous marriage—another jumps into the gossip circle to remind them of a long-forgotten misalliance. You know, in case they would think themselves above anyone else.” Her eyes sparkled. “My surprise is in hearing that someone would threaten the heir of the second largest kingdom with such tactics. I confess, it’s normally a woman’s weapon—”

“And I heard he’s not even the real heir. His mother was a—a—oh, I can’t say it, Husband. It’s simply too vile!” The loud comments, clearly meant to be mistaken as a private conversation, interrupted Sinder’s concentration as he spun his partner close to a balding man and heavily bejeweled woman watching the dancers.

His eyes flew to the princess’s face, relieved when her features remained unchanged. Perhaps she hadn’t heard the woman.

As if mocking him, the music ended, and he and Princess Charmant were left standing alongside the couple at the edge of the dance floor.

Sinder tensed when Princess Charmant smiled a greeting at them.

“Thank you, Lady Marcham, for not repeating anything vile at my ball. I knew I could count on your high morality and kind heart! It has always saved me from being uneasy in your company, which otherwise, you see, I quite enjoy. Although, come to think of it,” she leaned forward, “my dear Lord St. Ayers here has been a victim of a similar, shockingly inaccurate tale of family events. Can you imagine someone impugning a friend of the royal family? It’s an abysmal affront to our discerning natures to think we could be hoodwinked by such a tale, wouldn’t you agree, dearest Delilah?”

Her radiant smile would have reduced a diamond to dust.

As Lady Marcham took a moment to collect her wits, her companion was quick to seize the opportunity, his garments creaking as he bowed deeply. “Princess Charmant, you honor us with your attention. Of course, my wife would never think to spoil your ball by repeating idle gossip. We are saddened to hear that your friend has experienced a similar misfortune. May I have the pleasure of making the gentleman’s acquaintance?” He flashed his wife a warning look.

“Oh, silly me! Of course. I’ve forgotten how little time he spends among society. Lord and Lady Marcham, meet Sinder St. Ayers, the eldest grandson of the Duke of Ellacourt. Lord St. Ayers, meet Lord Augustus Marcham and Lady Delilah Marcham, the Marquess and Marchioness of Pynare.”

After the introductions were completed, the princess leaned toward the toadying man and winked conspiratorially. “He finally feels ready to face the hordes of matchmaking mommas. I know you understand, Lord Marcham! Momma told me you were swarmed with marriage-minded misses before finding our lovely Lady Marcham.” She stepped back, including both the Marquess and his wife in her admiring smile.

It was a masterful performance. Nodding to the now fawning marquess and marchioness, Sinder exchanged the obligatory pleasantries until a familiar scent reached his nose.

Leonora. His stomach roiled, though not from her suffocating perfume.

Before he could turn around, the princess placed her hand on his arm and excused them from the enthralled couple.

The musicians struck up a lively tune.

As they took their places among the other dancers. Sinder hazarded a glance toward the spot they’d just left. The princess’s timing had been perfect. He grinned when Leonora, Adam, and Garrett bolted away from the Marchams as quickly as manners would allow.

“I’m beginning to understand why I’ve never had the pleasure of your company before, Sinder St. Ayers.” The princess’s head was turned toward his family’s retreating figures, her tone contemplative.

He wasn’t prepared for the concern in her eyes as she swung back to face him. Her reaction wasn’t in keeping with the image of a spoiled royal, as he’d expected. It should have pleased him, but it only made his next words more bittersweet.

“I’ll understand if you prefer to cut this dance short.”

“Why ever would I do that?” She sounded genuinely confused.

Because you’d be better off staying far away from the St. Ayers’ and their poisoned connections. Including him. Even if he were merely trying to save his grandparents from Leonora’s threats.

His jaw clenched while he considered his answer. As if he had any real choice in the matter.

For, really, wasn’t there too much at stake to back out now?

Chapter Thirteen

Sinder

His decision made; Sinder relaxed. “You’re right. Why would you?” Picking up the pace of their movements, he delighted in the unaffected joy that lit her face. She was clearly born to dance.

The ballroom grew warmer as their bodies moved rhythmically to the beats of the music. Sinder enjoyed the feel of her lithe form beneath his hands. Her skirts were a gossamer touch, caressing his legs and threatening to drive him mad. He focused on ignoring the awakening in his loins, to no avail.

It was a long moment before he realized he had missed her question.

“Woolgathering, Lord St. Ayers? Shame on you. Some would think you unimpressed with your present company.”

“Quite the opposite, Princess, I assure you.”

“Mmhm. Well, if promenading with a princess-to-be on your arm isn’t your first choice for enjoying an evening, what is? And don’t say playing the lute or writing poetry, please. I know a man’s arm honed by physical work when I feel one. I-I mean, not that I’ve felt many—”

Watching the playful vixen turn into a stuttering innocent caused a rumbling in Sinder’s chest that exploded into laughter.

The rich sound turned heads.

“You are quite right. I wouldn’t dare claim mastery in either of those pursuits. That would be cruel since it would set you up for disappointment. My pastime involves practice of a more... strenuous nature.”

Her eyes widened and Sinder cursed inwardly. Of course she’d be intimidated, he was easily twice her size. “I’ll confess to one recently discovered interest which may satisfy your curiosity.”

“I’m not so sure but tell me anyway.”

“Dancing.” The music came to an abrupt stop. Ignoring the dancers exiting the checkered floor, Sinder swung the princess twice more before holding her steady. Forgetting their audience, he held her closer than politeness dictated.

Twin spots of color circled the creamy skin covering her cheekbones.

Was he mistaken in thinking the hammering of her pulse meant she was as affected by the dance as he was?

A forced laugh sounded from just beyond Sinder’s vision, spoiling the moment. Right, Philippe.

Princess Charmant took a step away, turning to her paramour. “Philippe! Come to scold me for taking up your new friend’s time? I promise, I was just about to return him.”

Although he had liked the man instantly, Sinder was now second guessing the feeling. Catching Philippe’s smirk, he’d say the man knew it. Strange. For a baron, he didn’t seem worried that the woman he loved had danced, twice, with the apparent heir to a dukedom. Clearly, he was confident of the princess’s affections.

“Oh, no need, Prin. I wouldn’t want to cut into the fun you two are having. I did want to warn you that your father and mother have expressed an interest in meeting Lord St. Ayers.”

Sinder could feel the tension in the arm still draped across his. Resting his free hand on hers for a moment, he smiled down at her. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Remember you said that,” she replied. “Come on.”

Sinder nodded to Philippe as he turned to go.

“Not so fast, Philippe.” Princess Charmant’s voice halted his departure. “An interesting development has occurred involving our mysterious Lord St. Ayers and certain members of his family. I have a feeling we are going to need to be on our toes this evening. So, I request your company as we make our introductions to the king and queen.”

Stiffening, Sinder rounded on the princess, forgetting tonight’s purpose. “I assure your Royal Highness that I have my family situation under control. I have no need for either your or Lord Dormir’s interference. Please make my apologies to the Royal Majesties on my behalf. It seems my time here is done.”

Furiously trying to rein in his anger before he called a member of the royal family an entitled harridan, Sinder was forced to a halt by Philippe’s outstretched arm.

“Please don’t go, Lord St. Ayers. Prin is in the wrong and needs to apologize for overstepping propriety. She has led a sheltered life here at court and has little experience with men besides her father, the royal guardsmen, and me.”

Instead of feeling mollified, the reminder of Philippe’s claim succeeded in annoying Sinder further. Not even the princess’s sharp intake of breath could improve his mood.

“Me? I was only trying to help! It’s not my fault he has a harpy for a stepmother—which is common knowledge, as you well know, Philippe. Leonora St. Ayers has made many enemies here. I am convinced there are few in the kingdom who would be swayed by whatever vitriol she hurled at our Lord St. Ayers.”

Philippe groaned and at once, Sinder’s bad humor dissolved. It was only slightly in part of her possessive use of “our.”

Observing the two of them arguing, he realized something that had gnawed at the fringes of his thoughts: Princess Charmant and Philippe Dormir’s relationship was anything but lover-like.

“Just out of curiosity, how long have you two known each other?” Sinder cut in drily.

They both stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. Philippe was the first to break into a grin. “Since the cradle. We were born days apart. She has been the thorn in my backside since the day she took her first steps.”

“Only because I took them a sennight sooner than you did.”

“I was still born first, so I’ll forever be older than you. Remember what your mother always tells you: ‘respect your elders since they are wiser.’”

“And I do, when they are wiser.”

Only partially listening to their squabbling, Sinder reconsidered the conversation he had heard in the stables. Of course, he now knew they weren’t acting as an emissary for the princess—their wager involved the princess herself. What exactly they wagered for—training in physical pursuits of some sort, Sinder believed they’d said—was still a mystery.

However, it was obvious Philippe was trying to help her find a worthy mate. He was flattered that the baron had chosen him as an acceptable suitor for his friend. And the princess must think highly of her friend’s judgment since she’d spent the night getting to know him. Even going so far as championing Sinder when she knew little about his circumstances.

But why would a beautiful, graceful, and powerful princess need help in finding a husband? Was it some sort of delusional belief Philippe held that she couldn’t choose a proper mate for herself? He didn’t seem the type. Or was there something about the princess that made attracting a suitor difficult?

“If we haven’t frightened you off with our poor manners, Lord St. Ayers,” the princess cut through Sinder’s thoughts, “I’d like to apologize for impugning your family. And for discussing your personal affairs in such a cavalier manner. Of course, you will deal with them as you see fit. Just know that you have mine and Philippe’s support, should you need it.”

It was a pretty apology, but Sinder had the feeling it wasn’t complete. He worked hard to school his face into a properly sober expression.

She proved his theory correct by continuing, “But also know that if—”

Her words cut off abruptly as she stared at a point behind his head. Turning, Sinder let out a groan when he made eye contact with a triumphant looking Leonora standing next to the king and queen. Even as he watched, Adam bowed over the queen’s hand before stepping aside for Garrett to take his place.

Well, this would make things awkward. How the hell was he supposed to introduce himself as the heir to the Ellacourt dukedom now that an heir had just formally presented himself to the Throne?

The princess echoed his thoughts. “While we were all arguing the finer points of discussing one’s tricky relatives with new acquaintances, we just lost the advantage over Leonora and your brothers, Lord St. Ayers.”

“I hesitate to make Prin’s mistake by sticking my nose too far into your affairs, St. Ayers, but it might help if someone lets me know what’s going on,” Philippe drawled.

Knowing when to admit defeat, Sinder sighed. “Is there somewhere we can go to discuss this more freely?”

They looked at one another before answering in unison, “The stables.”

“Ah, well, about that. It’s not as private as you supposed. I, uh, may have been settling Gustavius into his stall when you two were discussing your wager.” The confession was out before Sinder could give it a second thought. Well, the deed was done, and it seemed like the best way to move forward, with honesty.

At least, it did... until the princess’s face turned an unbecoming shade of puce. Philippe, to his credit, looked mildly interested.

“You let me apologize for overstepping propriety in stating the truth about your stepmother?” the princess demanded “All the while knowing you had already committed a far greater transgression by eavesdropping on my private conversation! The nerve!” Her chest was rising and falling in rapid succession, distracting Sinder from providing a suitable answer.

Fortunately, Philippe stepped in.

“Well, it’s good to know we should check the stalls before assuming we’re alone with the horses. And I guess this means you two are even now. We can all make a fresh start. Come, before we cause a scene.” He took advantage of the princess’s silence to take her arm firmly in his before turning to walk in the opposite direction of Leonora, Sinder’s brothers, and the king and queen.

Only Sinder caught Philippe’s nod indicating that he  should follow.

Grabbing another drink from a passing tray, Sinder took the long way around the ballroom. But, there was no need.

Once Philippe and the princess had disappeared, the buzzing of conversation rose to a deafening level as everyone offered their opinion on the royal family.

Although it was nice to not be the topic of censure for once, as Leonora had seen fit to make him many times in those early days, Sinder felt new respect for the princess. She had to possess a fair amount of mettle to face this level of interest without snapping under its pressure. Instead, she faced it head on, even taking the time to keep a stranger from experiencing the same discomfort.

Ignoring the light of interest in the eyes of a woman with her dark tresses piled high (and who appeared twice his age), Sinder found a table to set his empty glass upon.

It was time to start his plan. Fortunately, even in light of the new information he had collected on the princess, it needed few adjustments.

Somehow, the woman he had viewed as merely a pawn in solving his family’s troubles had just become a puzzle he was determined to unlock.

And thanks to a chance encounter in a palace stable, he had just the key.

Chapter Fourteen

Prin

Prin released the breath she was holding as the ballroom doors closed behind her. Her blue heels skipped lightly across the marble floor.

Philippe grinned. “Don’t get too comfortable. We still have dinner and another round of dancing to get through.”

“Yes, and I believe I just found the perfect diversion from it all. Or, should I say you found him.” She paused to offer a mock bow just as the towering doors reopened.

Swinging around, Prin felt a rush of excitement as the handsome eldest St. Ayer walked toward her. Walked? she wasn’t sure anyone would label his movements in such simple terms. Perhaps sauntered would be a more fitting description. There was a grace in his steps and in the measured way his arms swung at his sides. None of which helped her forget the feel of those arms.

She shook her head. He obviously knew he was attractive, which, of course, made the size of his biceps and forearms entirely irrelevant.

Searching his face while Philippe greeted him, Prin sighed. Why did she feel this need to step into what would no doubt be a hornet’s nest? Leonora St. Ayers was the worst kind of nobility, although there were many who hesitated in even calling her that. She had been born to a lesser baron, her beauty allowing her family access to one of the oldest and most distinguished titles in Gailleth when the heir to the St. Ayers’s duchy became ensnared by her delicate facade. And oh, how she’d let everyone know it.

It had only taken Prin a few run-ins with the now former duchess to realize the woman planned on using her stature to punish everyone she’d ever felt the least slighted by.

“Your home surprises me,” Lord St. Ayers interrupted Prin’s thoughts. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t—” he gestured to the elegant hallway whose only adornments were rows of portraits of Castlelore descendants, “this amount of humility.”

Her lips tugging at one side, Prin considered the man who’d voiced the thing that most of their guests were too polite to state. “Yes, I believe there are many who share your astonishment. Tell me—did you hear tales of our bountiful mines and come here expecting everything to be gilded and encrusted with gems?”

He cocked an eyebrow but remained silent.

Her chin rose. “My parents believe that having healthy, able-bodied subjects is more to their liking. They prefer to leave the gaudy displays of wealth to the other kingdoms.”

“Then they have nothing but my respect, Princess. I, too, prefer a life of simpler means... and pleasures.”

Prin was trapped by the long, piercing look he settled on her mouth. She smoothed her tongue across her lower lip.

They both started when Philippe cleared his throat. “So! Where would you say we’re safe to discuss things, Prin? Your father’s study?”

“No,” she answered in a rush. “My mother’s morning room. No one ever steps foot in it until early morning.” Her skirts gave a gentle swish as they passed through a nearby doorway.

The men exchanged looks before trailing behind her.

Prin stepped into her mother’s sanctuary, breathing in the scent of lavender that never failed to calm her. It was at her mother’s request that a bouquet of the fragrant plant be displayed upon the large table centered in the room. And in the off-season, when the cold months forced the leaves into their dormant state, dried bouquets were used instead. She and Mari had often joined their mother and some of the staff in making them. It was something Prin hoped to pass on to her own children one day.

Lord St. Ayers entered the room behind Philippe, bringing a warmth to Prin’s cheeks as she allowed herself to consider what having his children would be like.

Her eyes traveled down his muscled form, taking advantage of his and Philippe’s conversation to study him more thoroughly than the crowded ballroom had allowed. He looked nothing like his brothers, and they were known to bear a small resemblance to the late duke, apart from their height. Perhaps he favored his mother.

She didn’t know much about either of his parents, except details of their lineage and a few things her parents had mentioned. The Queen had referred to the former duke as an honorable man, although there had been whispers of his wandering attention throughout their marriage. His first duchess, Sinder’s mother, had been known as a great beauty, and the king had been impressed by her equestrian skills, Prin remembered. Something about a hunt at Ellacourt on one of his visits while Prin had been too young to travel.

In fact, she thought with a start, it was the lady’s skills on horseback that had caused speculation about the nature of her death. Her tragic fall from a horse known to be an excellent jumper hadn’t sat well with the king, as he’d relayed to them on more than one occasion. Prin wondered if the lady’s son had ever heard such stories.

“This is a very nice morning room,” Lord St. Ayers broke the silence.

“I’m glad you approve. I’ll be sure to let the queen know,” Prin couldn’t help adding. Ignoring the flash in his eyes, she continued, “Now, let us not keep Philippe in the dark. Would you like to tell him, or shall I?”

“As I am expecting a message to be delivered sometime soon, Princess,” Sinder bowed his head briefly, “It will be more prudent if I provide Sir Philippe with the details and return to the ballroom.” Turning to Philippe, he nodded again.

“To put it plainly,” Lord St. Ayers began, “I am being pushed out of my rightful place as the future Duke of Ellacourt by my grasping trollop of a stepmother, Leonora, and my two brothers, Adam and Garrett.”

Prin’s mouth rounded in shock for the briefest of moments before she remembered to close it. Finally, a member of the court who didn’t mince his words around her simply because she was a woman...or a princess.

Philippe’s lips quirked. “I see. Thank you for entrusting me with the information, however much it may pain you to speak of it,” he drawled. “But aren’t you already the duke, or, at least, the heir? You are your father’s firstborn, are you not?”

Sinder hesitated, and then sighed. “I am. However, in my family, the title is exclusively bestowed upon legitimate sons.”

The silence that met his pronouncement seemed to only rattle her and Philippe, Prin noted, marveling at Lord St. Ayer’s composure.

It was Philippe who rallied first. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you—that your mother—” he stumbled, a rare occurrence.

Prin snorted. “Oh, Philippe, don’t be such a prude! Most of the people swirling around our ballroom on the arms of their husbands and wives have either just left their lover’s bed or will be soon joining them when the ball is over. You know very well how things are among our land of marriages of convenience.”

“That may be,” Sinder interjected. “But my mother loved my father faithfully. I have no doubts about it,” he gritted.

Prin considered him a moment before responding. “I’m sorry. Of course I should not have implied—”

“No, you should not have,” he answered with the arrogance she’d first detected.

Taking a deep breath, Prin willed herself to not respond to it as poorly as she had the first time. He had every right to defend his mother’s honor. And his own.

“You are right to scold me, Lord St. Ayers. Of course you would know their situation better than I ever could. So, since we have established that you are, in fact, legitimate, what has prevented you from taking the title? It belongs to your grandfather at the moment, does it not?”

Some of the tension left his frame. “Yes, and when my stepmother petitioned your father to strike me as illegitimate—armed with a confession from a nobleman who claimed he was one of several lovers my mother had taken while under her marriage vows—my grandfather was able to convince the king to await more evidence. Grandfather told King Zenon that my resemblance to my father was enough that he wished to wait for more evidence before casting me aside. The king agreed but named him the current duke until either Grandfather produced more proof or passed away. It is why Leonora no longer holds the title of duchess, since it then converted to the current duke’s wife, my grandmother.”

Philippe had begun pacing before Lord St. Ayers had finished his tale. “I’m assuming your grandfather is still alive. And since you are here, and I’ve heard nothing concerning such a momentous event as a family casting out the heir to the Ellacourt lands and title, I assume you are here to gather proof?” he swung around, one brow arched in question.

“Although my grandfather was still breathing when I left, there is no saying for how long,” Sinder stated quietly. “And yes, the message I mentioned is supposed to provide that proof.”

“I am sorry to hear of his ailing health,” Philippe replied, his tone ringing with sincerity. “Well then, Lord St. Ayers, I suggest we make our way back to the ballroom and wait out the potential good news where it is easier for a messenger to find you. I, for one, would love to see Leonora’s nose put out of joint. Wouldn’t you, Prin?”

“Yes, of course,” Prin said, swinging her arms wide. “But  your family has already introduced themselves to Mother and Father, one of whom they claim is the true Duke-in-Waiting. What if this message never arrives and my parents decide to award the title to one them?”

“Then I suggest you leave the rest to me,” Philippe answered with a rakish grin. “We both know your diplomacy skills can’t hold a candle to mine.”

Sinder snorted beside Prin, who glared at him before turning to her friend with a saccharine grin. “Good. It’s about time you proved yourself useful.”

“Oh, I’d say I’ve been quite useful tonight already." Philippe chuckled. "It can’t have escaped your notice that I found that special something you were searching for.”

Prin gasped, stopping her smug flight to shoot daggers at Philippe’s profile. He had the audacity to wink at a grinning Lord St. Ayers before turning his smirking face toward the door. She knew that if Lord St. Ayers had overheard her and Philippe in the stables, then he knew exactly what Philippe was referencing.

“You’re just out of sorts because a certain someone isn’t attending tonight’s fun!” She flung at him, with nothing but the sound of the door opening as her answer.

Not wanting to meet Lord St. Ayer’s knowing gaze, she flounced out of the room on Philippe’s heels, ignoring the faint sounds of laughter echoing behind her. The familiar feeling of steel brushed against her thigh. It was in these moments it took all her will to keep Delicate caged.

Golden, muscled, and too handsome for his own arrogant good—or naught.

Chapter Fifteen

Sinder

Wiping his hands discreetly on the sides of his breeches, Sinder watched the interaction between the royal couple and a swarthy lord in front of him. At least, the man dressed and carried himself like nobility. But there was something in his speech...

Listening to the man’s accent transported Sinder back to the summer he’d convinced himself he wanted to become a pirate. After both of his parents died and Leonora had begun spreading her poison, he'd made the nearby shipping dock his second home, learning all he could about manning a ship from anyone who’d spare an overeager lad a moment. It wasn’t until he’d started repeating the dockside slang—a language all its own—that his grandparents had put a stop to it and Usami had appeared.

It was that short-lived adventure that told him without the finery, the man in front of him had all the markings of a seafaring drifter. It shone in the longer length he kept his dark hair to the way his deeply tanned skin contrasted starkly against his crimson and gold embroidered silk coat. And that accent, which was growing more pronounced the longer the man spoke... It was all Sinder could do to hide a grin as the king struggled—politely, of course—to keep up with the fragmented dialect common to those who lived off the sea. Although, this one sounded heavily diluted, suggesting the man had been landlocked for some time.

“I received yer summons, King Charmont, and wanted to personally tell you I 'ave no need of taking a wife. I 'ave no need for anything, to tell the truth,” the seafarer replied gruffly.

“Wulfe, I wouldn’t expect any other answer from you, Neptune knows,” the king laughed. “However, even you must agree we have been lenient about this matter for long enough. It is time to take a wife and secure the borders between Siresden and Alderscroll. Remember, you are no longer a ship’s captain, but the Earl of Siresden. You must protect your people and I am giving you the easiest way to do so.” He leaned in. “My God, man, do you know how many of these noblemen would trade places with you in a second to secure the hand of the stunning Lady Haywood?”

A gasp from behind the king drew the group’s attention.

The princess stepped forward, her eyes never leaving her father’s face. “Have you spoken to Crimson—I mean, Lady Haywood—about this?” Her chin rose. “Perhaps she has given her heart to another. No offense meant, of course, Lord Siresden,” she added with a regal nod.

Sinder saw the man’s lips twitch before he bowed in return. “Of course, Princess. None taken.”

The king, appearing oblivious to the exchange, merely glared at his daughter. “I have spoken with the lady’s parents, and all are in agreement. The betrothal is settled, and now Wulfe must set a course toward making his future wife amenable to his attentions.” Turning to face the man in question, his own mouth pulling at the corners, he taunted, “Surely, a man of his experience should be able to handle such a simple task. Isn’t that so, Lord Siresden?”

The narrowed-eyed response from the hapless lord caused a flicker of sympathy. Sinder knew a thing or two about the sting of forced circumstances. Clearing his throat, he interrupted the exchange. “Although we’ve never met, Lord Siresden, let me be one of the first to offer my felicitations. I had the pleasure of glimpsing your intended in the ballroom earlier. She possesses a rare grace and beauty.” He ignored the sharp inhale from where the princess stood.

Several in the group did not, however.

To distract the onlookers, he added, “I’m sure the lady will find herself fortunate to be partnered with a man who can protect her on both land...and sea.”

The lord’s disdain turned to speculation as he eyed Sinder from head to foot. He must have liked what he saw, because his tone was neutral when he finally answered. “Yes, one would hope. And my apologies...I do not know who you are—?”

Bowing, Sinder returned. “Lord St. Ayers.” He glimpsed Philippe joining the princess and her family from the corner of his eye and took a steadying breath before continuing. “The future Duke of Ellacourt.”

King Zenon shared a look with the queen, who had simply been observing the events, as if content to leave the political maneuverings to her husband. Until now.

Frowning, the queen swung her head toward Sinder, her unusual violet eyes spearing him where he stood. “Funny, Lord St. Ayers,” she drawled. “But we have recently become acquainted with another who claims the same birthright.”

Sinder ignored Lord Siresden as the man stepped aside to allow the king and queen clearer access to him. And though he could feel the princess’s eyes, as well, he focused all his attention on the queen.

If she was anything like her daughter, then she was the one he needed to impress.

Chapter Sixteen

Sinder

“My queen,” he began, bowing. “While it is true that I have two younger brothers—it is I who am the eldest, and therefore, next in line for the title. I am sorry if there was a misunderstanding during the introductions.”

Her frown deepened, but it was the king who answered. Looking at the growing crowd around them, he replied, “Well, this is an interesting development, to be sure. However, as it is something that requires some...discretion...I believe we’d be better off discussing this at another time and place.”

“But Father—” the princess exclaimed.

“Ah, Henrietta, my lovely daughter, and the reason we are gathered together this fine evening. Tell me, are you enjoying your ball?” Her father’s tone was warm and doting, but his eyes were cool and...pleading?

“Of course. It is hard not to when there is music, food, and good company,” she answered after a slight hesitation.

“Excellent! Then, let us hear no more of birthrights or betrothals... unless you mean to surprise us early, Henrietta?” The king said with a chuckle.

The small crowd surrounding them joined in.

She narrowed her eyes in answer.

The queen was quick to step in. “Lord Dormir, why don’t you and the princess take to the dance floor? If my ears are not deceiving me, I believe there is a minuet starting... and you two dance it so beautifully together.”

Sinder ignored the dark thoughts that immediately sprang to mind, reminding himself that Lord Dormir was an ally to his pursuit of the princess... not a challenger to be crushed.

Philippe bowed over the queen’s hand before taking the princess’s. “It would be my pleasure,” he answered gallantly and began leading her to the dance floor... which also put him into Sinder’s path.

Only Sinder and the princess were close enough to see him reach into his coat and pull something out.

Philippe stopped short, releasing the princess’s hand and stooping as if to retrieve something from the ground next to Sinder. “Ah, Lord St. Ayers, I believe you must have dropped this,” he said before making a show of handing it to him. He then whispered, “I caught a messenger asking for you and bribed him to give me the message before your brothers could reach him.” And with that, he took Princess Charmant’s hand and led her onto the dance floor.

Sinder looked down at the piece of parchment, noting how many folds it must have taken to create such a small square. His hand shook when he realized it must be the confession from Lord Cowper. He would finally learn the truth of his birth.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because the Earl of Siresden was suddenly at his elbow. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord St. Ayers. And while I look forward to furthering our acquaintance, I’d recommend we delay that happy occasion so that you can get some fresh air. You’re looking a little pale—the air tends to become rather stifling during these occasions. There is a terrace over there to your right. It appears to be empty.” And with another measuring look, he said his farewells to the king and queen and made an abrupt departure.

Sinder wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass and made his way to the suggested spot. The cool air that greeted him was almost as refreshing as the privacy the unoccupied space afforded. Thanking his luck for the bright light of the full moon, Sinder unfolded the message.

He scanned it in silence, his eyes widening at the enormity of what it revealed. Lord Cowper had formally renounced his claims of having an affair with Lady Gwenevieve, the former Duchess of St. Ayers, and had named himself an accomplice with none other than Leonora St. Ayers.

Sinder growled, not caring if anyone heard, and continued reading. Cowper stated that the plot was intended to cheat Sinder St. Ayers, the rightful heir to the dukedom, out of his birthright. There was also an informal note of apology explaining that Lord Cowper had once been captivated with Leonora and so had jumped to help her secure power for herself and the two youngest St. Ayers’ children, whom she felt were pliable enough to be molded into doing whatever she wished.

Lord Cowper revealed he had later been spurned—even after he’d done as the Lady requested—but had not retracted his accusation since the offended party was already dead and the damage had been done. It was his conscience that made him want to finally set things right and he begged Sinder’s forgiveness for his part in the plot. He also declared that he’d entrusted a copy of his confession to his barrister with the instructions to never let it out of his sight, should the St. Ayers’s family ever need it.

Carefully refolding the message, Sinder placed it safely in an inside pocket of his coat. He knew it was likely Lord Cowper’s fear of his soul’s destination in the afterlife that inspired the confession, but he couldn’t find a reason to care, either way.

Because now he was free. Free to put his grandfather’s mind at rest. Free to protect the people and lands of his blood. And, as his hands gripped the railing, the knuckles whitening, most of all, he was free to enact revenge on the woman who had dared to take that which belonged to him.

His mouth stretched into a mirthless grin. Leonora would pay. And every part of him would rejoice when he ripped away the very threads of what held her privileged life together.

Chapter Seventeen

Prin

“Duck!”

Prin did as she was bid, surprised by how close the whoosh of air that marked Philippe’s arrow’s path came to her ear. Not bothering to see where it landed, she rounded on him. “What on Gailleth’s rolling hills are you trying to accomplish here, Philippe Dormir?” She stomped her boots, regretting it when they stuck in the two inches of mud covering the practice grounds. “You almost skewered my ear!”

Chuckling, Philippe lowered his bow and peered behind her. “Sorry, but you can’t blame me for your recent lack of focus. And I think we both know who’s responsible for it.” His grin was nauseating; steeped in self-congratulatory preening, as it was.

“My lack of—?” Prin sputtered before returning his broad grin, albeit falsely. “Agreed, we do know the source,” she said. “You and your terrible aim.” She turned her back to him and started up the slight hill, careful to avoid the grassless areas.

“Where are you going? I still have to collect my arrows or your father will have my head. Wait up! I was only teasing!” His voice trailed behind her as she continued toward the castle grounds. She knew Philippe would be fine on his own—they were close enough to the castle that they were under the constant eye of the gatekeepers, which was exactly why she was heading for her sanctuary. Philippe’s words held more truth than she liked to admit, and Prin preferred to examine them without an audience. But first, she’d lose herself in her painting.

“Thank you, Remy,” she called to a white-haired guardsman over the sounds of solid steel and wood hitting the ground. He’d been lifting the castle’s formidable gates for her since her father took her on her first hunting trip. Remy had made a game of timing the gate’s opening precisely with her arrival. It was now a source of pride for the man who’d grown too old for battle. He waved and threw her a cheeky wink, coaxing a laugh from her.

“His majesty and the queen are preparing to ride down to the village,” Remy offered. “They should be out any second.”

Great. Who knew it would be this hard finding a quiet moment to herself in a sixty-room castle? “Many thanks for the warning. I’m sure I’ll see them later at dinner,” Prin returned, quickening her steps, Remy’s chuckles echoing behind her.

That left only Mari. Hopefully, her pianoforte lessons would keep her occupied.

“Your Royal Highness.” Gates, the backbone of the Charmant’s household staff, curtsied stiffly. The seneschal kept a tight hold on the castle’s daily operations, but beneath her starched uniform and tightly bound grey hair, Prin knew she held a fierce love of Castlelore and its traditions. Which meant she thoroughly disapproved of the activities Henrietta enjoyed most... with the exception of dancing.

“Greetings, Gates. I’ll be in the East Tower if anyone needs me,” Prin called over her shoulder.

“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” was followed by a long-suffering sigh.

Prin’s lips quirked, despite her irritation. There was a certain comfort in being surrounded by those who’d known her since birth. Her oddities were viewed with a much more tolerant eye here than they would likely be elsewhere. And fortunately for her, as there was no one’s power who exceeded her family’s, it did not matter whom she wed. She would never be required to leave her home. Hence the importance of finding a nobleman who would overlook her peculiarities. If she had to endure a stranger in her home, and in her bed... the least he could do is not vex her about the things that brought her joy.

A commotion sounded from the direction she’d just traveled, and her father’s booming voice echoed down the long passageway. “Make sure you tell Henrietta and Mariella that we’ll be back in plenty of time for dinner.” There was a pause before he continued, sounding further away, “And tell Henrietta to scrub under her nails this time, before she thinks to dine with us.”

Her face afire, Prin didn’t wait to hear more. She reached her favorite room in the castle and pushed open the inconspicuous paneled door. The scent of oil paint and turpentine greeted her as she walked over to a large window. Kneeling on the cushioned seat nestled between the frame, she opened two of the panes and let out a happy sigh. A soft breeze rustled through the lightweight fabric that flanked each side, cooling her skin and transforming the air with a heady mix of phlox and lavender.

She’d picked this room solely because it overlooked her mother’s garden. There had many times over the years that she’d come here to paint, only to get lost in admiring the scents floating up from the neat rows of fragrant herbs and flowers that her mother had planted herself. The queen often used them for brightening up the castle rooms and as gifts for the villagers, and therefore, felt they were her responsibility to manage.

Or so Queen Reina had insisted when the head gardener had expressed his disapproval. Even he, a relic of more traditional times, had nothing more to say after that. In truth, it would not have mattered to the queen, for as soft and feminine as she appeared on the outside, she was as stubborn as the king when she wanted something.

And right now, all she seemed to want was for Henrietta to find a husband.

Shaking the dismal thought aside, Prin turned away from the window and walked up to a white canvas leaning against a solid wood easel. She positioned the wooden frame to take advantage of the best lighting and, replacing a nearly finished countryside landscape with the blank canvas, moved on to gathering her brushes and paints.

When her mind was as clouded as it was now, she preferred to give her hands freedom over whatever they wished to create. The results were often chaotic, but breathtaking in their lack of concern for rules or structure...as wild things tended to be.

It was here that Mari, bubbling with news, found her hours later.

“Mama and Papa were looking for you before they left,” she said, bounding into the room.

Prin sighed and wiped a cheek with the back of her hand. “I’ve been here for the past couple hours, and before that, I was attempting to teach Philippe how to use True. When an arrow came uncomfortably close to my ear, I thought it prudent to end the lesson.”

Wrinkling her nose, Mari shook out her skirts. “I’ll never understand why you and Papa name your weapons. I spend hours on my pianoforte and have never had a single wish to burden myself with what to call it.”

“Because in moments of trouble, they are the friends you can most rely upon. It seems petty not to, in such a case,” Prin retorted. She turned back to her painting, tilting her head.

Mari took a step toward the easel. “He looks... intimidating.”

“Hmm.” She still hadn’t gotten the nose right. Perhaps when she saw him next...

A hard tap sounded at the door. “Prin? Can I come in?”

Philippe. Prin’s eyes flew from her painting to Mari’s face.

Mari put her finger to her lips before lunging for the door and opening it a crack. “Oh, Philippe, it’s you!” Mari chuckled nervously. “You almost scared me out of my shoes! Prin isn’t here, but her paints and brushes are set up as if she just left and no one has had time to clean up after her yet. She’s probably tidying up for dinner with Mama and Papa. Are you dining with us tonight?”

The door clicked shut, muffling his response. Prin breathed a sigh of relief as their voices faded down the hallway and away from her and Mari’s sleeping quarters. It had been many years since Philippe was allowed in either of their bedchambers, so it was the perfect chance for her to escape without being seen. Taking one last look at the painting she had started and stopped half a dozen times before finally succumbing to her urge to commit his image to canvas, Prin nodded her head. “It was my pleasure, Lord St. Ayers,” she said, curtsying. “Until we meet again.”

Chapter Eighteen

Sinder

Swinging the steel in front of him as if slicing through foes, Sinder tested his sword’s balance before declaring himself satisfied. He carried it almost reverently to the back wall, hanging it above the mantle of his cottage’s stone fireplace.

“You have crafted a sword worthy of your station,” Usami stated from a leather-clad chair behind him. “Worthy of even the gods, themselves.”

“High praise, considering you’ve taught me most of what I know,” Sinder chuckled. “And as much as I would enjoy hearing more of such praise, I believe you have something to report?”

Straightening, Usami nodded. “Yuuto was able to befriend one of the young attendants to the princess’s sister. He learned many things.”

When nothing more was said, Sinder sighed before sitting down in the chair opposite his friend. “I’m listening.”

“There are six days of challenges held for any nobleman who wishes to win the princess’s hand. Upon their completion, she will declare the winner on the seventh day at the Midnight Ball. This champion will become the next to rule Castlelore...by her side.”

“By her side,” Sinder repeated. “That’s an interesting distinction.”

“Yes. Castlelore’s rules of succession are quite unique. Not only do they allow females to rule, they forbid the husbands of female rulers to claim a greater power. For them, blood ties are always the strongest claim.”

“That would explain why the king cares so much for what is swirling around in mine, I suppose.” Sinder rubbed a finger across the ridges of a forgotten scar along his jaw. “Which means that no matter what other challenges I may face leading up to this Midnight Ball, I must take care of the matter of my legitimacy first.”

“Excellent deduction,” Usami bowed his head.

“A slow one, if the twitching of your lips is any indication,” Sinder drawled.

“Clarity is not a state reached by fleetness of foot, nor sight, but by soundness of mind, and reflection.” The twitching muscles beside his mouth could no longer contain a grin. “And let’s face it, my friend—you have never been a fast runner.”

Shaking his head at the quip, Sinder considered his options. If he confronted Leonora with what he’d learned at the princess’s Nova Ball, then he’d need to prepare himself for a battle. There was no way she, nor his brothers, would let go of a prize like Ellacourt easily. Especially not when they’d also pinned their hopes on Adam winning Castlelore through marrying the princess.

It was Sinder’s guess that Adam was, as yet, unaware of the Charmants’ unusual rules of succession. He wondered whether the other noble families knew of it, either.

No matter, for whomever wed the princess would potentially have access to a great army and the authority to make or break the laws of the land as they saw fit. The promise of such power would make even a well-intentioned man think twice before walking away. To people like Leonora and Adam—well, it would likely mean he’d have to pry the opportunity from their fingers with a pair of forging tongs in one hand and his sword in the other. But allowing them to stay in the castle while he was busy courting the princess was no longer an option. Their recent threats had proven that.

Although Usami’s presence had deterred them from harming his grandparents the night of Princess Charmant’s ball, Sinder knew they would only grow more desperate now that he’d shown himself to the realm. Leonora would not want King Zenon or other nobles to begin asking questions while Lord Cowper and his grandparents were alive. He had a strong suspicion she would try something to hurry along one or both of their passings. Which meant he needed a strong counteroffensive.

A jaunty knock at the front door interrupted his thoughts. He shared a look with Usami, who stood in one fluid motion, his hand at his sword’s hilt. Sinder knew he had left his staff with Yuuto, who had been ordered to stand watch over his grandparents upon his return from Castlelore.

Sinder grabbed his own sword from above the fireplace before walking swiftly to the door. “Yes?” he called out.

“Milor’, it’s jes me,” was the cheerful reply.

The tension left Sinder’s frame and he swung the door wide. “Jeeves, you’re back! It’s good to see your cheerful face,” Sinder greeted his apprentice with a pounding on his shoulder.

Gus chose that moment to make himself known, pawing at the ground and whinnying a greeting.

“A little late, don’t you think?” Sinder rolled his eyes. “Why did I make your stall in the front of the cottage if you don’t sound the alarm when someone is near?”

Tossing his head, Gus snorted.

Sinder waved him off in mock disgust, closing the door behind Jeeves.

“It’s good to be back, milor’,” the hulking lad replied, not fazed by his welcome.

“The last time I saw you, you were as green as a toad and couldn’t get a sip of water to stay in your gut. It looks like whatever nursing Agnes provided was just what your body needed,” Sinder teased.

Twin spots of red formed on Jeeves’s smooth cheeks. “She has a healin’ touch, it’s true.”

A choked sound from behind drew both of their attention. Usami merely covered his mouth with a hand and coughed. His innocent look fooled neither of them.

“Usami.” Jeeves bowed, his wavy brown hair nearly covering both eyes.

Usami lowered his head in acknowledgment. “Greetings, Jeeves.”

“Your return couldn’t have come at a better time.” Sinder gestured for his apprentice to join them.

“Why? You havin’ troubles with that sword of yers?” he teased before he spotted it in Sinder’s grip. “May I?” he breathed, reaching out his hand.

Grinning, Sinder handed it over, watching Jeeves’s eyes light with appreciation as he stared down the long blade, turning it over in his hands. He blew out a whistle. “I take it back. Yer in no need of my help. E’s a right beaut, milor’!”

“Yes, she is,” Sinder agreed.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it? And what’s her name, then?”

Sinder’s mouth lifted on one side. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Jeeves and Usami traded looks. Usami shook his head.

Watching the interaction, Sinder cleared his throat. “Much has happened while you were out. I’ll give you a shortened version and fill in the details later. Usami was just about to tell me how to win the heart of a princess in six days.”

“Seven,” Usami corrected with a grin. “You have until midnight on the night of the Midnight Ball.”

Jeeves sat down on a crude bench that served as Sinder’s dining seating. “I’m happy to be here, then. Mayhap his plan works fer common folks, too.”

“Like you would need any help convincing Agnes.”

“You would na’ think it, but it’s true. I’ve asked her twice and been rejected. I’m at my willie’s end!”

Refusing to meet Usami’s gaze, Sinder choked out, “Wit’s end, my boy, is what I believe you meant.”

“That, too!”

The room erupted with laughter, which only grew louder at the sound of Gus’s answering neighs.

When they finally settled, Sinder promised to help Jeeves overcome his lady’s objections. In the meantime...

“Leaping lepers, how’n you expect to get that banshee—beggin’ yer pardon,” Jeeves stuttered when Sinder was finished filling him in. “Yer stepma’—out of the castle? We all know she will na’ go quietly.”

“Banshee is an excellent name for her,” Sinder said with a grin. “But you’re right. She will not go without a fight.” His face darkened at the thought of losing any of his people in a scuffle with Leonora. And then a realization hit. “What we should be asking ourselves is what kind of fight would that be?” At their blank looks, he added, “What would it look like—a fight with Leonora, Adam, and Garrett? How many of Ellacourt’s men and women would stand with them over my grandparents and against us? A half dozen? A dozen?”

Usami’s face grew pensive. “With your grandparents’ advancing years, your people will be more willing to listen to Leonora and your brothers, if they believe it means they can continue their lives as they are. Most men do not like disruption just for the sake of disruption.”

“Exactly,” Sinder replied. “So, we show them that by supporting my claim, their lives will not have to change at all, other than they’d no longer have to live under my stepmother and brother’s vile humors. I’ve got the confession from Lord Cowper to show those who believe Leonora’s poison.”

“There’ll still be many who believe her over a piece of paper that they can na’ read,” Jeeves warned. “She’s been spreadin’ her filth fer years. And you know she does na’ care how she convinces them,” he said, his face flushing again.

Sinder patted his apprentice’s knee. “Don’t go bringing up painful memories of events you had little control over,” he ordered softly. It was hard to keep his voice even when he remembered the panic and shame Jeeves had endured after being cornered by Leonora his first week of apprenticeship. She must have thought he’d be as easy a conquest as the others she’d employed in her spy network. When Jeeves had refused to do her bidding, she had had her men force him into her bedchamber, intending to use their tryst as blackmail. She’d only gotten in a few caresses before he managed to escape out a window and made a dangerous landing atop stacked hay bales below. The threats and curses she’d hurled at him had been heard by many in the castle that day, guaranteeing his new ladylove, Agnes, would hear of it, too.

Fortunately, Sinder and his grandparents had managed to thwart Leonora by intervening before the gossip had made it to Agnes’s ears. But Sinder knew it was a defeat his stepmother had not forgotten.

Silent once more, he racked his brain for a plan that would cut off the viper’s head before she had a chance to strike.

“You could always jes’ pack up her things and throw them—and her—outside the gates,” Jeeves suggested with a laugh.

His joke was met with silence... until Sinder turned to him with an arrested look. “Jeeves, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed.

Jeeves frowned. “I am?”

Letting out a whoop, Sinder jumped up from his seat and pulled Jeeves up by his forearms. “Yes! Because you just gave me an idea on how to get Leonora and my brothers outside the walls of Ellacourt—for good,” he said gleefully. “But there is much to be done.” Moving to stand before Usami, he asked, “Can I infringe upon your and Yuuto’s time a little longer, my friend?”

“Of course. We are not needed anywhere until the leaves begin their descent. What is your plan?”

Sinder walked over to a trunk and began digging through it. Grunting in approval as his hands closed over the thick leather, he pulled them out and threw one to each of his curious friends.

“An apron?” Jeeves raised one dark eyebrow.

“We’ll be forging into the night. But first, I need to send out a few messages that must make it into the hands of their intended targets. They cannot be intercepted, or all is lost,” Sinder warned.

“I know two very trustworthy lads,” said Jeeves. “And they are related to me, so we need na’ doubt their loyalties.”

“Perfect. Thank you. Tell them that when I become the duke, I will make it worth their while.”

“I’m na’ sure you wanna be openin’ that jar, milor’, Jeeves returned with a grin. “You’ll find it na’ easy to close again.

Sinder clasped him on the shoulder. “If we pull this off, I’ll make sure that jar stays filled.”

“That’ll be enough fer them, then.”

“Good. Now, where can I find a pen and quality parchment?”

“Just how good yer needin’?”

“Something fit for a king.”

Chapter Nineteen

Prin

“Father, it’s not my fault Philippe cannot hit a target unless it’s ten feet in front of him,” Prin pouted. “We’ve been practicing a few hours a day, and I swear his aim has gotten worse.”

“Henrietta!” The king rebuked.

Her mother lifted her napkin to her mouth.

Laughing, Philippe threw up his hands. “I concede her point, your Majesty. As much as it pains me to admit,” he added with a kick to Prin’s leg under the table.

“Ou—” she bit out, rubbing the tender spot and shooting daggers at her smirking friend. Prin knew that bringing it to her father’s attention would only earn the two of them a long scolding.

Instead, she feigned a contrite look. “I only mention it because I know how much he wants to impress Aurelia, Father.”

Philippe’s sharp intake of breath almost made her regret outing his tender feelings. Then she remembered the laughter he’d shared with Sinder during the ball—at her expense—and her eyes narrowed.

“Aurelia? You mean the Marquess of Scepterstone’s daughter?” The queen asked, her eyes widening.

Shooting one last glare at Prin that promised future retribution, Philippe turned a stone gaze to the queen. “Yes, Your Majesty. I had hoped to present myself to her father before frost hits. It was dear Prin,” he shot a look of such sweetness at Prin she nearly dissolved into giggles, “that made me realize that improving my own skills in battle may help my leadership abilities—something that could help overcome the unfortunate rank of my birth in the Marquess’s eyes,” he finished stiffly.

At once, Prin felt guilty for teasing her friend into such a confession. She laid a hand on his arm. “Philippe, I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant,” he said, pulling his hand away from hers. “If you’ll excuse me, I must attend to some urgent business for my parents.” His bow was a show of elegance. “Your Majesties, dinner was superb, as always. Princess Henrietta. Mariella,” he said in a clipped tone before striding out of the dining hall.

Tears stung the corners of Prin’s eyes as she eyed the full plate he’d left behind of their chef’s best. This had to be the first untouched meal Philippe had left since he’d taken to dining with her family.

“That was unkind, Henrietta,” the king rebuked. “Philippe is a good man and does not deserve to be made fun of because he does not possess the same skills as you.”

“Nor the good fortune of being born into royalty,” her mother added.

Their soft tones could not hide their disappointment, which only made their disapproval more difficult to take.

A tear slid down Prin’s cheek. “No, of course he does not,” she said, not bothering to defend her behavior. She deserved their censure.

“Perhaps this all stems from Prin’s own feelings of being thwarted in love,” Mari said suddenly.

Prin whipped her head toward her sister, her mouth opening to deny the accusation. When Mari lifted a brow at her and looked pointedly at Philippe’s empty seat, Prin’s anger surged a half-second before deflating. She supposed it was fitting for her to experience the same sting of betrayal she’d caused Philippe.

“What’s this?” her mother said, clapping her hands together. “Henrietta is in love?”

“But how? With whom?” The king sputtered, setting down a fork speared deep into a thick cube of venison.

Sighing, Prin held up a hand. “Before anyone gets too upset—or hopeful—” she glanced at her mother, “I have not fallen in love with someone.”

King Zenon’s face relaxed while the queen’s fell. “Oh.”

“Mari, what is the meaning of telling such a falsehood?” The king demanded.

Mari remained quiet, staring at Prin, her arms folded across her chest.

Prin groaned. “Fine. But I am interested in someone that was at the ball. Interested in getting to know them,” she added quickly.

“Excellent,” the king boomed. “Tell me who he is, and I will have a full report on him before the night is done.”

Taking a deep breath, Prin continued, “Well, you already know a little about him,” she hedged.

Mari blew out a breath. “Oh, for the light of day!” she grumbled. “His name is Sinder St. Ayers and he’s the eldest son of William St. Ayers, the second—the late Duke of Ellacourt—but his stepmother has cast aspersions on his legitimacy and now Prin isn’t sure if you’ll approve,” she finished in a single breath.

Prin stared at her, slack-jawed. “But you weren’t there—how did you?” Then she remembered who Mari had led out of her painting room. “Philippe,” she said, forgetting her earlier tender feelings. How could he have told her loose-tongued sister about this...especially before Prin had even acknowledged these feelings to herself? Wait until she got her hands on him!

The dark scowl on her father’s face didn’t bode well, Prin noted with growing alarm. Even her mother had taken notice, patting her husband’s arm and saying, “Now, dear. Remember, we gave William time to—”

“Yes, and how many years has it been, now?” The king rounded on her; his children’s presence apparently forgotten. “We’ve left our border in a state of disarray because of a promise I made to —to a—”

Withdrawing her hand from the king’s arm, the queen sat straighter in her high-backed chair and reached for her wine goblet. She swirled the contents, staring at a framed painting depicting a hunt that hung above a sturdy table that Prin had always loved looking at. “A what, dear?” she asked coolly.

Prin exchanged a look of bemusement with Mari, both forgetting their own tension in the face of their parent’s uncharacteristic behavior.

King Zenon made a show of clearing his throat. He took a long drink from his goblet and set it down with a clunk. “You know what I meant,” he blustered. “And until we know, you cannot fault me for wanting proof before I give my blessing to a possible—” at this, he stopped, glancing toward first Prin, and then Mari, as if just remembering their presence.

Fast approaching footsteps was their only warning before the doors to the dining room slammed open. A royal messenger took a few steps into the room before bowing low. “Forgive my interruption, Your Majesties.”

The king waved his hand. “Yes, yes. What is it?”

“I’ve just been handed a missive from someone claiming he’s from Ellacourt and has an important message from the duke, Your Majesty.”

Prin’s heart danced inside her ribcage.

“From William?” The king said, sharing a look with his queen. “Any idea of what it pertains to?”

The messenger looked affronted. “No, of course not, Your Majesty. It came with the express instruction to hand it over to you, and you, only.”

“Perhaps he seeks an audience for a...delicate matter,” Mari suggested slyly.

“Mari, hush,” the queen chided. “Stop teasing your sister. Let me remind you that one day, you will be in her shoes and looking for a husband.”

Prin didn’t try to hide her smile at her sister’s disgruntled look. She felt a moment of sympathy for the unknown nobleman. He had no idea what he would be getting himself into.

Mari stuck her tongue out and Prin’s grin widened. No idea at all.

“Well, hand it here, then,” King Zenon was saying, reaching out to take the folded parchment. Breaking the duke’s seal, he scanned the contents.

The messenger stood back, his eyes looking neither left nor right as he waited for the king’s direction.

Silence blanketed the room. Prin searched the king’s face for clues of the letter’s contents. It wasn’t long before she knew that whatever it contained was of a happy nature.

His eyes alight, the king handed the letter to his wife. He addressed the waiting messenger. “You may inform the duke’s heir that we are amenable to his plans. That is all.”

The messenger bowed again. “Very good, Your Majesty. Right away.” He plopped his hat upon his head and backed out of the room.

“Well?” The king asked the queen before picking up his fork again.

“Mother, what does the letter say?” Mari cut in, ignoring Prin’s hushed admonishment.

Raising one elegant finger, the queen finished scanning the contents before laying it next to her plate. She turned a faltering smile on her youngest daughter, instantly sending prickles down Prin’s spine. Without looking at Prin, the queen answered, “One of your sister’s suitors has just declared his intentions to join in the festivities and pursue her hand in marriage...” she ignored Prin’s gasp. “And will be calling upon her in three days’ time.”

Desperate to hide her reaction, Prin raised her water glass to her lips but had to set it down quickly. Her hand shook hard enough to slosh its contents over the brim. The duke’s heir, her father had said. But which one? Adam St. Ayers? she shuddered. Or the true heir...Sinder?

She shook her head. Surely, there hadn’t been enough time to make such of an impression on him. Besides, he’d left the ball abruptly after his introduction to her parents, while she and Philippe were dancing. He hadn’t bothered to say goodbye or to allow them to help formulate a plan to thwart his stepmother. She narrowed her eyes...or, perhaps this was part of his plan, his way of securing his place in the realm. An alliance with her family would guarantee Leonora’s defeat. Disappointment colored the hope she’d felt at her mother’s announcement.

Now, she had more questions than answers, but Prin knew better than to show her interest, if she wished to have a say in her future. She contented herself with dabbing at an imaginary crumb on her mouth with her napkin.

“What say you to that, daughter?” The king asked gruffly. “Does it please you?”

Hating the warmth in her cheeks, Prin managed to nod. “Y-yes, Father.” Her chin rose. “As it allows me more time to get to know him, and to consider all my options.”

Mari let out a deep breath but otherwise stayed quiet.

The queen pressed the edge of her own napkin against her lips and then sent an approving look to her eldest child. “Very sensible. Three days gives us barely enough time to prepare for his visit, so we better begin at first light. I’ll send for Monsieur Beauregard. Mari, since your presence will be needed for dinner with the duke’s heir, as well, then you shall also need a new gown.”

“Mother, is that really necessary?” Prin objected even as Mari preened. “We ordered an entire wardrobe for the ascension festivities already! You have never been the sort to spend that much gold on something unimportant when there are so many better uses for it.”

“Heed me well, child, for I shall not repeat myself. Right now, there is nothing more important to this kingdom than securing your match and preparing for your ascension. You will have as many new gowns or whatever other fripperies are necessary to guarantee your success...our kingdom’s success,” she stated, her expression grim.

Prin felt a frisson of fear at the waver in her mother’s voice. She looked between the queen and king. “What has happened? Is it the Outbounders, again?”

Her parents shared a look. King Zenon dismissed the servants standing at attention along a far wall before addressing Prin. “Yes, there have been reports of the curs stirring up the villagers. When their recruitment efforts fail, they take it out on the villages: theft, fires, even murder.” His mouth tightened.

The queen grabbed the king’s hand, and some of the darkness left his expression. She addressed Prin. “It has become a regular part of their speeches to claim that you will be choosing Philippe as your mate.”

Mari snorted, covering her bow-shaped mouth with her fingers.

Prin’s eyes narrowed.

“Sorry.” Mari giggled. “But you have to admit, the thought is rather comical.”

Merely rolling her eyes in answer, Prin turned back to her mother. “I don’t understand. In what way would making such an announcement benefit them?”

“After what you said to Philippe this evening, you really don’t know?” Queen Reina answered.

Prin groaned, ducking her head. “Please tell me Philippe hasn’t learned of this.”

Looking up, she met her parents’ silent stares with a sinking feeling in her stomach. No wonder he’d reacted so strongly to her ribbing. It was one thing to accept teasing from a childhood friend, but to have his deficiencies discussed all across the six kingdoms? Even the most humble of men would feel ashamed.

“There has to be some way to help Philippe,” Prin said, shaking her head to dispel the thoughts of what would happen to Philippe’s chances of courting Aurelia if the Marquess of Scepterstone should hear of this. Assuming he hadn’t, already. “Couldn’t we ask—?”

“He’s long gone,” the king cut her off. “And while it is reassuring to hear that you want to help Philippe, I’m afraid you’ve got bigger concerns. Fortunately, this new suitor of yours will only help strengthen your position.” He sat back, dropping his napkin onto his plate, and calling the servants in to start clearing the table. It was an effective means to ending the conversation.

They moved to the music room, where Mari played a haunting melody that did little to lift Prin’s mood. She excused herself, claiming a headache.

As she closed the doors behind her and made her way toward the opposite wing, Prin was grateful for the quiet hallway. Even more appealing was the chance to contemplate the revelations from dinner in the serenity of her room...without feeling as if she were part of a novelty show.

Either way, she knew a restful sleep would not be hers this night.

Chapter Twenty

Sinder

“They jes headed out, milors’,” Jeeves said upon entering William’s bedchamber. “It’s time.”

Sinder’s stomach roiled, but he stood, eyeing the shallow movements of his grandfather’s chest with concern.

“I’ll be fine, boy,” William rasped. “Your grandmother will see to it.” He reached for his wife’s hand, dropping it to the bed as if even that small movement were too taxing. “Do what you must to secure your lands. For there is no doubt, we are all now under your protection,” he said solemnly. “And if there is any man here who wishes to challenge that, let him say his peace, now.” He looked at the faces of the men gathered in his bedchamber, knowing it was unlikely to be any of them whose loyalty Sinder needed to question. William grunted in approval when Jeeves, Usami, and Yuuto stood silent. “Very good, then I suggest you put your plans into motion. There is no telling how long Leonora, Adam, and Garrett will be welcome at Castlelore once Sinder’s letter reaches them,” he cackled. “Oh, to be there when the walls come crashing down upon them!”

The coughing fit that followed made them all shift nervously.

Knowing his grandfather wouldn’t want attention called to it among such a crowd, Sinder merely nodded and addressed his men. “Everyone knows what to do. As soon as I receive word from the lookouts that Leonora and my brothers have been spotted, we will convene at the gates. Any questions?”

The men looked at one another, each shaking their heads. “We are ready to fortify your position,” Usami stated.

“Let us go now, then.”

Breaking up into two teams, Jeeves and Sinder headed down one staircase while Usami and Yuuto took another. Sinder could only pray to the gods that they had enough time to carry out their plans.

Everything that happened afterwards depended upon them succeeding.

Chapter
Twenty-One

Prin

Staring at herself in the long mirror, Prin admitted she’d never looked better. The teal color of her dress made her eyes appear larger and brighter, while the satin sheen brought out the smooth texture of her skin. Her blonde hair had been piled atop her head while large curls cascaded across one shoulder. A comb decorated with peacock feathers and encrusted with small sapphires was her only adornment, aside from the matching sapphire studs winking in her ears.

Now, if only she could be sure of who’d be walking through that door tonight. She wrung her hands and then chided herself. Either way, she wasn’t committed to accepting the hand of whomever it was. Her parents had given her a choice—a rather limited one, but one she valued, nonetheless—and there were no guarantees that her match wasn’t someone she had yet to meet. Perhaps they would reveal themselves at the games leading up to the Midnight Ball. She couldn’t let one random meeting with an arrogant brute distract her from other possibilities.

Yes, of course. She still had until after the games to decide. Her hands relaxed, although her heart still pounded against her ribcage.

She both welcomed and dreaded the loud tapping at her door.

“Prin? Gates just informed me that our guests have arrived. Are you ready? Oh!” Mari appeared in the mirror behind Prin, her face awash in admiration. “You look lovely! Sinder St. Ayers’s heart doesn’t stand a chance!” she giggled, giving Prin a light squeeze around her waist. “And you’re even wearing a corset?” she exclaimed in mock surprise. “He must have really caught your eye.”

Pleased at the confirmation that she looked her best; Prin hid it behind their familiar banter. “I didn’t have any other choice, if I wished to squeeze into my dress,” she scoffed. “This bodice cannot be considered decent for a simple dinner, can it?”

“Oh, please! Have you heard what your friend, Lady Haywood wears when she visits the villagers? Some say her hems are raised to just below her knees! In daylight, and she, a countess’s granddaughter! I say if she can get away with flouting conventions, then surely a princess can,” she reasoned.

“She’s a widow, though. Different rules apply. And Mari— almost princess.”

“No, Prin.” Mari swung her around to face her. “You always do that—try to separate yourself from your title. Your ascension doesn’t make you a princess, it simply lets the kingdom know that you have been chosen as the next successor. You have been a princess since birth. Don’t you think it is time to stop hiding from yourself and embrace your power?”

“But what if I don’t want it?” Prin whispered the words she’d never said aloud.

“Then I’d say you clearly hadn’t thought this through. Because if one chooses not to have power, then exactly what have they chosen to be, if not powerless?” Mari smoothed a stray tendril away from Prin’s cheek. “But embrace it, and you can make the changes you have always talked about. Do you really want to give all that up... because of fear?”

Prin was quiet for several seconds. “You know, I believe you’re right,” she said slowly, cocking her head to one side and worrying her lip.  “It is such an odd thing, to have one’s words held up to oneself, just as a mirror would to one’s appearance.” Straightening, she looked down at her sister’s pretty face, noting how the baby roundness of her cheeks had slimmed, and felt she was seeing her sister mature right before her eyes. “Since when did you grow so wise, my Little Maribell?”

The old endearment sparked tears in both their eyes, and they embraced, each careful not to ruin the others’ dress.

Mari swiped across the side of her nose. “Since I started listening to my wiser older sister,” she said, sniffling.

They exchanged watery smiles and then made a show of adjusting their gowns and fixing their hair.

“You look lovely, too,” Prin said, her voice ringing with sincerity. Mari’s dress was a beautiful deep purple and had an iridescent overskirt that shimmered with each movement. Her sweetheart neckline was adorned with pink silk roses that were duplicated in smaller clusters along the edges of the sleeves and the skirt’s hemline.

“Yes, we are fortunate to have such a talented dressmaker in our midst. Now, I hereby declare us as ready as we could hope to be,” Mari said, offering her arm to her sister. “Shall we, Princess Henrietta?”

Prin’s lips lifted. She hooked her arm around her sisters and nodded. “Why yes, we shall, Princess Maribell.”

“We have to find a way to get you out of here,” Mari whispered from behind her napkin a short while later.

Prin shot her a pleading look before she turned a sickly smile to Adam St. Ayers, who was seated next to her. “I ask for your forgiveness, Lord St. Ayers, but what was it that your manservant told you this morning?”

The vain lord couldn’t quite hide his derision. “Please don’t bother your pretty little head about it. I’m well aware of how distracting young ladies often find my presence,” he nodded graciously. “I wouldn’t think of reprimanding you for such an understandable lapse.” Apparently satisfied with his own generous nature, he continued, “What I explained was how perfectly proportioned my shoulder measurements are, according to my manservant. I have it on good authority that when he gave them to the creator of this fine jacket,” he ran loving hands down a blood-red sleeve that did his complexion a grave disservice, “the man jumped at the chance to clothe me.”

Prin struggled with a proper response, but was saved when Mari joined in. “It is a very fine coat, Lord St. Ayers, indeed. Henrietta and I were just discussing how fortunate it is that our own dressmaker, Monsieur Beauregard, is so close at hand.”

Lord St. Ayers reared back, a look of horror contorting his features. Somehow, the effects were less offensive than their usual state. “Your seamstress is a...a...man?” His voice barely rose above a whisper.

“Of course!” Mari replied, a devilish glint in her eyes. “Isn’t yours?”

“But... I am a man!”

Fortunately for them all, Leonora had been listening to their conversation, a truth made apparent when she executed a perfectly timed interruption. “Adam, dear, of course the princesses, and the king and queen for that matter, will do things just as they see fit. It isn’t up to us to pass judgement on the dealings of royalty, my love.” The endearment came out as cold and hard as the warning in her eyes.

Lord St. Ayers tempered his response but his mulish expression betrayed him. “Of course, Mother. How good of you to point that out.” He bowed his head to Prin and Mari. “Pray, forgive me. The information merely startled me as I am not accustomed to the...ah, inner dealings of palace life,” he finished smoothly.

If she wasn’t thoroughly disgusted with the sniveling man-child, Prin might have been impressed by his quick recovery. As it stood, she felt she had endured all she could of tonight’s unwelcome dinner guests. “We understand, Lord St. Ayers,” she began. “Now, while it’s been a pl—”

“Please, call me Lord Adam,” he spoke over her, lifting her hand to his lips.

She couldn’t quite hide her shiver of revulsion, which, of course, he misinterpreted.

“Your maidenly nerves are a credit, Princess Charmant.” He puffed out his chest. “Rest assured, you have nothing to fear while I am near.”

The doors burst open, and Lord Adam jumped, letting out a loud squeak.

Covering her mouth, Prin’s eyes sought out Mari’s—a mistake, she quickly realized. Mari was struggling to hold in her mirth.

Desperate for a distraction, Prin found relief when the same messenger that had brought Lord St. Ayers’s formal declaration of courtship strode through their dining hall. She wondered where he’d trained for his position, knowing it could not have been at Castlelore. The staff would never have failed to impress upon him the importance of knocking and waiting for verbal confirmation before entering a room.

The messenger bowed to the king, ignoring the other nobles seated at their table. When Leonora’s lips pressed together at the slight, Prin decided she rather liked his daring.

“Your Majesty, again, forgive my interruption. I have an important message for your eyes only.” He kept the letter tucked inside the hand facing away from the table... until the king reached for it with a laugh.

“Well, since the St. Ayers’ are dining with us here, I’m curious to see who the missive is from this time,” he said jovially. Turning the letter over, he stared at it, a frown marring his features. He sent a quick look at his guests before turning away slightly.

Prin caught her mother’s curious glance at her husband’s back before she squared her shoulders and faced Leonora with a tight smile, ever the diplomatic hostess.

Although Prin could not hear their exact conversation, Leonora’s voice—an odd mix of toadying and condescension—grated on her, sparking a fleeting moment of empathy for her mother. This dinner had no doubt put a strain on them all.

Garrett, introduced to her as the youngest St. Ayers’ male, finally overcame his sullenness and struck up a conversation with Mari. Which left Prin at Lord Adam’s mercy.

“When our houses merge, my stepmother can help train your servants. She has a will of iron underneath that soft exterior.”

Swallowing her outrage at his presumption, Prin sent him a tight smile. “You are all that is kind and considerate, Lord Adam.” She peeked toward the head of the table through her lashes. Her father was breaking open the letter’s seal.

“It is my pleasure, Princess Charmant. May I call you Princess Henrietta?”

She would gladly let him call her anything if it meant she could continue spying on her father. What was in the letter he was reading so intently?

Lowering her head, Prin fluttered her lashes. “I’m afraid I couldn’t, Lord Adam. Especially since it would mean I’d need to offer every nobleman in the kingdom the same liberties, or risk upsetting my future husband.”

Her not-so-subtle warning that she had not—as yet—accepted his suit found its mark and he withdrew his grip on her hand.

The king chose the perfect moment to clear his throat and begin speaking. “I have just received some very interesting news. And, oddly enough, it concerns the St. Ayers’s lineage.”

Leonora’s eyes narrowed, although she raised her wine glass to her lips as if his news was of little consequence.

The king, however, had a lifetime of experience maneuvering through court intrigue. He chose to wait her out.

It was Lord Adam who broke first. “Is it my half-brother, begging for your intervention in family matters?” he asked boldly. “If so, Your Majesty, please allow me to apologize in defense of my family seated here. Sinder has grown quite shameless in his quest to inherit that which is not rightfully his.”

Prin’s hands curled into fists in her lap. She prepared to give the spoiled buffoon a blistering setdown.

Her father handed the letter to her mother and speared Lord Adam with a look that made it clear he was not impressed with the young lord’s speech.  “Not rightfully his?” The king repeated. He held up a hand to halt Lord Adam’s response. “Funny, but I thought that the St. Ayers’s line of succession stated that the title and lands were to be passed to the eldest heir?” He paused, looking between Lord Adam and Lord Garrett before meeting Leonora’s narrowed gaze. “And neither of these two young men are older than Sinder, correct? Or am I missing an important part of this story?” He crossed his arms as if daring them to contradict him.

Garrett’s mouth fluttered like a fish out of water before he closed it with a snap.

Mari met Prin’s gaze and raised an eyebrow, most likely wondering at their father’s intentions. Prin shrugged, equally confounded.

Leonora cleared her throat delicately. “My son is right, Your Majesty.” She arranged her features into the picture of a reluctant informant. “However, it pains me to disclose a part of our family’s...shame, which I believe will explain everything. You see, the boys’ mother—”

“Was a good friend of mine,” the king interrupted. “And one of yours, too, isn’t that right, darling?” He asked the queen, who handed the letter back to him after lifting her face from its pages.

“A very good friend,” she purred before offering him a piece of pineapple from off her plate. “Which is why I was so surprised when you and Lord Cowper came to us shortly after your husband’s death, Lady St. Ayers, with such a vivid tale of Gwenevieve St. Ayers’s supposed infidelity.” She smiled as the king nipped playfully at her fingers.

Mari kicked Prin’s shin under the table, but Prin was too fascinated by what was unfolding to pay her any mind.

“Yes, I remember that visit, as well.” The king nodded. “It was also the meeting where you begged me to cast Sinder aside due to his ‘tainted blood’ and name one of his younger brothers as the heir, instead; was it not?”

Licking her lips nervously, Leonora looked from the queen to the letter in the king’s hand and back to his face before answering. “Y-yes, I believe you remember that correctly, Your Majesty. And then the boy’s grandfather made a grab for the title, himself, and—”

“You are discussing a very respected peer of the realm, my lady,” King Zenon warned in a steely tone. “I would suggest you weigh your next words carefully.” He shook his head, as if clearing it. “To be honest, I don’t have the stomach to listen to whatever vitriol you are about to unleash. The ruse is over, Lady Leonora. I have the proof of your part in a scheme concocted to have Sinder St. Ayers removed as heir and to install one of his brothers in his place.” He slapped his hand down upon the table, causing everyone to jump.

Even Prin was suitably impressed by his royal ire.

“All in an obvious and shameless bid for power,” he finished, leaning toward the woman who didn’t have the sense to know when to retreat.

“But, Your Majesty, you must let me defend myself against my stepson’s spiteful and ridiculous accusations,” she pleaded.

The king lifted the letter and turned it toward Lady St. Ayers. “Funny how you refer to Sinder as your ‘stepson’ while these two are ‘your sons.’ And you are mistaken; it wasn’t Sinder St. Ayers who informed against you.” His eyes glittered in the candlelight. “It was your former lover, Lord Cowper.” Pointing to the sprawling signature at the bottom, the king raised an eyebrow, allowing the evidence to do his explaining for him.

Lady St. Ayers’s expressions went through a dizzying array of emotions until resignation finally took over.

Prin felt like she was coming out of a daze and looked around the table to see that Adam, Mari, and Garrett were in varying degrees of shock.

The queen stared at Adam and Garrett with a softer look than she’d directed at Lady St. Ayers. “This appears to be a shock to you, two, as well,’ she said gently. “But the king and I knew your mother well. She was infatuated with your father and would never have betrayed him. We’re just sorry it took Lord Cowper’s confession and so many years of living with this misinformation for us to finally see it. We bear you two no ill will.” She turned to Lady St. Ayers, whose eyes widened at the queen’s glare. “But you—you were complicit from the planning stages leading up to this very moment. Lying to us, conspiring with another to make fools of us! Stealing Sinder St. Ayers’s birthright is like stealing from us. And do you know what we do to those who try to steal from the crown, Lady St. Ayers?” Her anger rivaled the king’s, causing Prin to flinch. She didn’t know why she felt even a sliver of sympathy for the viper, but she reasoned Lady St. Ayers had to have been good at some point in her life.

“Show them the mercy of the gods?” Leonora offered, her voice catching on the word ‘mercy.’

“Like you’ve shown Sinder St. Ayers all these years, I suppose?” The king scoffed. “No. You had plenty of years to reflect on your wickedness and atone for your actions, had you wanted to.” He glanced at his wife, who nodded. “No, Leonora, there will be no mercy, other than that of your life. However, the life we offer you is the one you had before you married into the St. Ayers’s family. For you are hereby stripped of all titles and holdings associated with the St. Ayers’s name and will relinquish any rights or claims to all but those you inherited upon your father’s death.”

Leonora gasped, “B-but my father’s—our home—was burnt to ashes in an Outbounders attack!”

“So you say,” the king narrowed his eyes at her. “The timing seems a bit fortuitous now that we look at it from a different vantage point.”

Queen Reina appeared deep in thought, until she looked up, her eyes widening. “Speaking of fortuitous events, weren’t you originally a companion to Lady Gwenevieve prior to her death?” she demanded.

A wildness shone from Leonora’s eyes before they shuttered, and an eerie calm descended over her countenance. “As Your Majesties have already judged me and found me guilty, there seems little point in defending myself. If you please, I would like to excuse my sons and myself from your presence. It appears we have some packing to do,” she said, her bravado slipping before she recovered it. Standing, she dipped a curtsy and then glared at the messenger who had lined up with the dining attendants, perhaps with hopes he’d be forgotten. “Adam. Garrett. Come,” she directed, not turning to see if they followed.

“Pardon us, Your Majesties. Princess Henrietta. Princess Mariella.” a subdued Adam said before bowing and waiting for his brother to do the same. They both turned on their heels and left the room, the sounds of their departure a source of relief for the remaining occupants.

The king dismissed the messenger and the castle staff before he and the queen sat back with twin sighs.

“What a terrible woman!” the queen exclaimed to no one in particular.

“What was in the letter?” Mari asked, crushing the roses on her dress in her attempt to reach for it.

“There’s no need for such a lack of decorum, Mariella,” the queen rebuked. She waited for her daughter’s subdued apology before handing her the parchment.

Mari scanned the contents while Prin squirmed in her seat.

The king and queen bent their heads together, speaking in tones too soft to hear.

“Okay, Mari,” Prin chided after a few long moments. “You’ve had it long enough. I want to see it, too.”

“I bet you do,” Mari said slyly before handing it over.

Grumbling, Prin grabbed it and began reading, “What do you mean by that?” she asked her sister, distracted.

“Because that letter delivers the answer to all your needs.”

Her mind swirling at what the letter’s content was revealing, Prin barely caught her sister’s comment. “So you say...and what needs would those be?”

Mari paused just as Prin skimmed the first few paragraphs. Prin stopped when she reached the part where Lord Cowper named Leonora St. Ayers as the mastermind of their plotting. Wow! The amount of gumption that woman had to possess to lie so shamelessly, and then to uphold those lies for close to a decade!

Another kick under the table brought her attention back to her sister. “Ouch! Why do you kick so hard?” she exclaimed, rubbing her sore shin.

“Just making sure you’re paying attention,” Mari said, biting her lip. “So, what I meant was that Lord Cowper’s confession appears to have solved all your problems.”

Sighing but looking up from her reading, Prin frowned. “How?”

Mari ticked off a finger with each point, “One, you need to make a strong alliance that will show those Outbounders that Castlelore will always be prepared to defend themselves and the realm. What better way than to align yourself with the second largest kingdom? Two, you wanted to get to know Sinder St. Ayers but you weren’t sure our parents would approve because of his questionable parentage—a moot point, now. And, three, just think, Prin! You will never, ever have to sit down to dinner with any of those vacuous, horrible people again!”

Prin opened her mouth to protest her interest in Sinder and then closed it. Denying it was futile.

“We can all drink to that” the queen interrupted, proving she’d been eavesdropping, before raising her glass to clink against the king’s. She smiled briefly, pointed it toward her daughters, and slung back the contents.

There was a moment of shocked silence before the room echoed with laughter.

Sobering, Prin stared at the lady of the hunt painting, wondering at her own unsettled feeling. Why did it feel related to Sinder’s ability to solve his problem without her help? And what did that say about her? She smiled at a jest from Mari before retreating to her thoughts again. It wasn’t like her to resent another’s successes.

Prin sighed, her eyes brushing over the beautiful woman who looked as fierce as Diana, the Goddess of the Hunt. She doubted the confident huntress would have cared if the man who had caught her fancy ignored her offer of help.

The king and queen signaled it was time to retire to the music room to hear Mari play. Knowing it would hurt her sister’s feelings if she claimed a headache again, Prin pasted on a smile and followed them into the room.

She just wished she understood why Sinder St. Ayer’s much-deserved triumph upset her so.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Sinder

Finished replacing the last door lock, Sinder wiped at the sweat beading across his brow. Even with the fading sun, it was hot in the outer bailey.

“Good work, milor.’ We are done, and no sight of the banshee yet,” Jeeves said with barely concealed glee.

Sinder chuckled before releasing a sigh of relief. Usami and Yuuto were fast approaching. “It looks like we’ve all completed our tasks in time,” he said in greeting.

“It is done.” Usami handed Sinder a pouch that clanged when it shifted.

“Many thanks, my friends,” Sinder addressed the trio while he emptied its contents into an identical bag he carried. “Now, we wait. But first, I’m going to confirm with the gatekeepers that all is in readiness.”

“Where will you be when Lady Leonora returns?” Usami asked.

“l’ll be waiting with the garrison in case Leonora and my brothers attempt to breach the gate, or if any of those still loyal to her try to start something from inside. You are welcome to join me but, please, take caution. Her guards are all skilled archers. They could decide to fly an arrow or two just for the pleasure.”

Jeeves snorted. “I’ll be surprised if any of them dare. Once they realize just how powerless Lady Leonora is, I suspect their more’n like to turn tail and look for someone with the gold to pay them with.”

“Let us hope not.” Sinder’s smile never reached his eyes. “I’ve half a mind to open the gates and give her a proper send off. The only thing stopping me is my grandfather’s health. Without knowing who here is loyal to either his or Leonora’s and my brother’s claims to the duchy, I can’t be certain of what we’re up against.”

“To yours, you mean,” Yuuto said softly.

Usami nodded even as Sinder frowned. “I’m sorry, Yuuto, to my what?”

“You said who is loyal to either your grandfather’s or your stepmother and brother’s claims. But it is either theirs or your claim, now.”

Sinder’s forehead cleared. “So it is. Very astute of you to catch my slip. It seems I’ll need some time to adjust to things, hmm?” He patted the youth on his shoulder, sending a knowing look to Usami.

It was hard to believe the transformation the boy had made in the short amount of time he'd been with them. Sinder didn’t know much about Yuuto except he was the son of someone important in the fishing village where Usami was born. He’d arrived sullen and resentful of the rules and lessons that Usami had begun the second day of his arrival. Now, he was eager and gaining confidence in voicing his opinions, with fewer and fewer of his dark moods marring his face.

Sinder shoulders lifted. It was almost like looking at a mirror, something he had the feeling Usami was also thinking based on the twinkle in his friend’s eyes.

Someone blew the alarm horn and the group snapped to attention.

“They’re here.” Sinder’s jaw flexed. “Get to your positions of choice and be prepared for anything.”

“Yuuto and I will keep an eye on those inside the castle walls,” Usami said. “This will free up eyes needed elsewhere.”

Sinder nodded, already on his way to the top of the castle wall above the gate. He’d have the best vantage point there.

Greeting the half dozen men already stationed atop the gates, Sinder moved into position, his heart beating faster from a surge of adrenaline.

“What is the meaning of this?” Leonora shouted, her fair hair peeking from behind the carriage’s curtained window. “It is, I, Lady St. Ayers. Raise this gate at once, or I shall have every one of you drawn and quartered!”

The threat did not endear her to any of his grandfather’s men, by the way several of them moved their hands to the hilt of their swords. His men, Sinder corrected silently. “I’m sorry, Leonora,” he called out. “But I’m afraid we cannot do that.”

“And why not?!” she bellowed. “Who do you think you are, bastard?”

Shock reverberated through the garrison, heard in gasps and low mumblings that broke out all around him. Sinder steeled himself against it. She had already ripped apart his world in the only ways she could. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him bothered by her actions again. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Sinder calmly unfolded the parchment and held it out for everyone to see. “Your lies end here, Leonora. I am no more a bastard than Adam and Garrett are your natural sons. And I have Lord Cowper’s confession to prove it. My mother remained true to my father, until her dying days.”

“It was you! I knew it! You were the one that told the king such nonsense!” Even from this height, Sinder could see the hatred blazing from her eyes. “You won’t get away with this, boy!”

“My name is Lord Sinder St. Ayers, the future Duke of Ellacourt, Leonora,” he said, deliberately leaving off any of her titles. “You will address me as such, or not at all.”

The carriage door opened, and Adam stepped out. “What is the meaning of this, brother?” he sneered. “Surely even you know that this is the height of rudeness! Now let us in and we can see this so-called evidence for ourselves. We are of your blood!”

Red hot anger burrowed deep into Sinder’s skin. “You may be,” he called down. “But she is not.”

Leonora’s eyes were no more than slits, and her usually clear complexion grew more mottled by the moment.

Before she could unleash her rage, Sinder couldn’t help goading her. “So, how was your visit with the king? Did he give Adam his blessing to court the princess?”

“You know very well he did not since you’d already sent your little vindictive letter. Is that what this is about?” she scoffed. “You think to steal the princess for your own?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Do you imagine that the king and queen will welcome a bastard with no courtly manners and questionable birth to their table?” Garrett and Adam were both standing next to her, joining in her maniacal laughter.

Even though he’d expected their reactions, it still stung to see his brothers' side with the witch. Sinder stood tall, letting the wounds of his past—those that the three grinning up at him had caused—leave him and flow into the cool evening air. They had made their choices, and now he needed only to inform them of his own. “Because of your lies and cruelty, you are banished from Ellacourt. Your belongings have been loaded into a cart that I will release once your men have set down their weapons. I have no wish for contact with any of you, so do not attempt it. If you try to enter the gates, you will be turned away.” Sinder clenched one fist. “And if you refuse to leave, then I have ordered my men to remove you by force.”

The whispers and mumblings around him returned, but Sinder stood resolute. He knew how vicious Leonora and Garrett were, with Adam not falling far behind.

“You son of a whor—” Garrett’s insult was cut short by an arrow that landed perfectly centered between his feet.

Sinder didn’t have to look to see who had come to his mother’s defense. There was only one other person besides himself who had that type of aim: Usami.

Garrett’s surprised shriek drew chuckles from the men, and his face turned as red as his tunic. Leonora’s guardsmen had drawn their own bows, but none looked like they relished a fight against such uneven numbers.

“We have no wish to harm any of you. Lay down your weapons and we will return your personal belongings. And then we will never have to see one another again,” Sinder said grimly.

Silence filled the air until Leonora raised her hand and gestured for her guards to drop their weapons. Reluctantly, the men did as they were bid.

“But this is our father’s home!” Garrett whined to Leonora. “I refuse to just give it up—”

She rounded on him. “Are you going to take it from him then?” she asked, her voice filled with disdain. She swiped one arm toward the open space behind them. “With your army of men, perhaps?”

Garrett looked like he wanted to take up the fight until Adam walked over and slapped him on the shoulder. The two exchanged words that were too low to travel up the castle walls. But whatever was said calmed Garrett, that much was obvious.

Sinder nodded first to his guards manning the gate and then to those waiting with the cart. After the men had collected the abandoned weapons, they delivered the cart.

Leonora called out something to her guards and turned to get back into the carriage.

“I’m sorry, Stepmother, but there seems to be a misunderstanding,” Sinder called down to her.

She turned. “What now?” she snapped.

“The cart and all the belongings on it are yours,” he began. “They were part of your bride price, I believe. However, the carriage belongs to me. It stays here.”

There was a stunned silence and then Leonora began barking out orders. Once the carriage made it through the castle gates, the men closed them with a satisfying thud.

It was too satisfying not to watch as Leonora, Garrett, and Adam shoved at each other, each vying for a comfortable spot on the overpacked cart.

“If you don’t mind me sayin’, milord, I’m glad we won’t be seeing the front side of them anymore,” the guardsman next to him said.

Sinder watched as the trio and their small procession faded over a hill. His mouth thinned. “No, I don’t mind. But I’m not so sure we’ve seen the last of them.”

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Prin

The gentle sounds of the forest were interrupted by a loud cry. “Yes! Prin, did you see that? I hit it!” Philippe crowed, his bow falling to the ground in his excitement.

Prin smiled. “And this one was even further away than the last time you managed to hit the target! Well done, Philippe!”

He grimaced. “Well, when you say it like that, it doesn’t seem as impressive.”

Remembering her father’s words and how many apologies it had taken to get Philippe to return to their lessons, Prin shook her head, throwing up her hands. “Are you kidding me? I bet you’ll be shooting from across the practice field before the start of the festivities next week! Just think about how impressed your fair lady will be to witness it at her own tourney,” she said slyly.

Philippe hid his expression under the guise of retrieving arrows, but Prin could tell by his fluid movements that he was gaining confidence.

Which meant that at some point, their roles had switched. “I wonder if I should just keep my axe-wielding to myself,” she worried her lip. “At least until after the wedding announcements go up.”

Philippe walked toward her, her father’s bow and arrows collected and resting between his feet. “I have to say, I’m not used to seeing you like this at all.” He looked at her lower limbs before clucking. “Unsure of yourself, that is. But if I were you, I’d worry more about how you’re going to hide your large collection of men’s trousers.”

Prin tossed her long braid over one shoulder and batted her eyelashes. “I thought it was you who claimed that any red-blooded man would be delighted to see me clothed this way,” she teased.

He chuckled. “You’re right. I doubt he’ll notice either way. Until he sees you wear the dress that your sister picked out for you.”

Sighing at the memory of the beautiful frock that Mari had chosen for her from the mountain of dresses they’d both been provided with, Prin twirled around Philippe until she grew dizzy. She’d been so excited to show it off, she’d had it brought down to the music room the evening before, so that Philippe could admire it, as well. The dress was silver and threaded with shimmering ribbons of sky and royal blue, so that it sparkled in every light. But she suspected it was the silken flowers sewn with tiny centers of colored glass that would be the real showstopper.

Her mother had insisted on having a crown with a similar design crafted in honor of the old ways, when festivals were held for everything from harvests to fertility celebrations and maidens danced with flower wreaths atop their unbound hair. It hadn’t arrived yet, and she’d refused to tell Prin whom she’d commissioned for the piece.

Prin stopped spinning. “Yes, I believe you’re right. It is the perfect dress for what I know will be a perfect day.”

Philippe grunted. “It seems cruel to give all these men hope when you’ve clearly made your decision.”

Her head whipped around, and Prin glared at her friend. “I haven’t done anything of the sort! This is simply my chance to observe my options more closely, just as all the men of Gailleth are allowed.”

Scoffing, Philippe frowned. “I am expected to choose from a narrow pool of noblewomen, as well, let me remind you.”

“Yes, while they are promenaded around you, showing off their assets in lowered necklines and carefully arranged hairstyles. Then you are given previews of their talents when they play the pianoforte after dinner or show you their watercolors when you come to call. And what do us ladies receive from you gentleman? Layered clothing that reveals nothing of what lies underneath, and heads of hair that often look as if you’ve just risen from bed!”

Philippe threw back his head, his shout of laughter startling birds from the tree branches above.

Prin narrowed her eyes but continued when his laughter had subsided into chuckles. “And what of your skills? When do we ladies get evidence of those?”

At this, Philippe’s merriment stopped. His face reflected discomfort as he developed a sudden interest in wiping away imaginary dirt from his clothing. “I—uh...I believe many of those talents surface after the marriage,” he stuttered.

Now it was Prin’s turn to scoff. “Right. And that’s a bit too convenient if you ask me. It makes men lazy because they know that once they’ve convinced a woman to marry them, they’ll never need to follow through with demonstrating any of those skills.” Her chin rose. “What I have to offer is on full display. All I seek is the same. Let my future husband demonstrate his worthiness to me.”

Following her speech, Philippe lifted his arms and began clapping. “I am in awe,” he said in mock reverence. “And terrified for all of Gailleth’s noblemen. For they have no idea what they are about to get themselves into.”

“Go shive a pig,” Prin declared, repeating an expression she heard one of the guards use when he thought she had passed from earshot. “But whether you want to admit it or not, Philippe Dormir, you know I’m right. You can’t blame me for being the one to point it out.”

“You know I am only poking the bear,” Philippe soothed, directing her to a large rock they often used for a resting spot. “I agree with you, mostly...which is exactly why I feel we have already found our champion in Sinder St. Ayers.

But we don’t know yet if he’ll be accepting of my...well, this.” She looked down at her breeches and weapons.

“Fair point. Yet, the only other man in Gailleth who has the things you seek and who we know wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at your peculiarities has a disposition that would never mesh with yours.”

“Wulfe Tevarest,” Prin agreed, chewing on her lip. “Earl or not, I’m afraid you’re right. His days of captaining ships have given him a sort of...”—she struggled for the word—"edge that I find annoying.”

“Arrogance, you mean. Which, I must say I detected a bit from your Lord St. Ayers, as well.”

“From what I know of him, Lord St. Ayers is a self-made man, just like the Earl of Siresden. Men like that are going to have some arrogance,” Prin mused. “First, because they’ve earned it, and second, because it’s an easy way to keep out anyone they don’t want getting too close. But where they differ is that Lord St. Ayers stayed near his family and a softer, more genteel way of life. Wulfe spent over a decade amongst vagabonds, thieves, and coarser folks.”

“How do you know so much about Wulfe?” Philippe asked. “He’s not known to be the sort to encourage confidences.”

A sad smile tugged at Prin’s lips. “Because I was one of the first people to meet him when he was summoned home, after the carriage accident took his brothers’ lives.  My father wanted to see what kind of man he was, receive his oath of fealty, and to offer the new Earl assistance in what he knew would be a difficult transition. When I offered my own help, Wulfe told me a lot about the life he resented leaving and made it very clear that he had no use for any of us nobility. I cannot allow Crimson to be saddled with such a disagreeable man for the rest of her days.” She shuddered.

“She may be exactly what he needs, though. Stranger pairings have worked out.”

“I suppose.” Prin dropped the discussion, noting Philippe’s change of tone. “Now that you have hit the target several times, I believe a celebration is in order,” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “What do you say to a trip to the market, to find a trinket for when you call on Lady Aurelia’s father?”

“I wasn’t aware—”

“Oh, yes. Aurelia’s Nova Ball is less than a lunar cycle after my Midnight Ball. You are going to get a head start on all the other men of the kingdom. And I am going to help you, just as you helped me.”

Philippe sighed. “All I did was introduce you to Lord St. Ayers, Prin. I already know Lady Aurelia is the woman I want.”

“Yes, but a duke marrying a princess doesn’t raise many eyebrows,” she pointed out gently.

He grew pensive. “Yes, I suppose you have me there.”

Brightening, Prin grabbed her friend by the arm, demanding he rise and follow her. They raced to the castle as best they could, each weighed down by their bows and sacks of arrows.

It only took Prin a moment to change into a simple dress, the pink and yellow floral pattern inspiring Philippe to declare that she rivalled the beauty of spring. Then the two were off on horseback, a pair of mounted palace guards trailing behind them.

Prin relished the feel of her horse’s power beneath her and the rays of sunshine that warmed her face and shoulders wherever they touched.

It felt like a day where anything could happen.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Sinder

Gus’s hooves pounded across the clearing, flinging up blades of grass and dirt as Sinder urged him on faster. “Come, Lex!” Sinder called over his shoulder. “Show me what that overpriced nag is made of!”

The hapless guard tried to keep up, but even his grandfather’s newest addition to the stables—a two-year-old spirited bay from a local breeder—couldn’t catch Gus. 

Sinder let out a bellow of exultation. This was what he’d developed a need for these past few days. Ever since he had shut the gates on Leonora and his brothers, he’d gotten a taste of something he never thought to feel again. Freedom. There was no more avoiding places where he knew they would be. The dread that had pitted itself deep within him was beginning to fade into a distant memory. And hope was unfurling.

The biggest change to inspire hope was his grandfather’s health. Sinder refused the offer to move into Leonora’s chambers, choosing to have it gutted of all signs of her before moving his grandfather into it. The windows were larger and set lower, allowing the duke the view he’d struggled to find in his previous chambers.

On the second morning after moving his grandfather, Sinder received a visit from Agnes with a message from his grandmother: he was needed at the castle immediately. Fearing the worse, he rode Gus harder than he ever had, only to arrive at the castle and find the news to be of an entirely different nature. His grandfather sat up in bed, feeding himself and barking orders to all like he was only bedridden because he’d momentarily winded himself.

“Ah, there’s my boy! We have much to discuss about your succession, Sinder St. Ayers!” he’d shouted, his voice ringing with pride. Sinder knew it was his way of proclaiming to everyone, ‘I told you he was of my blood!’

Sinder had tamped down a grin. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Although you can see I’m having one of my best days in quite a while,” he had cackled setting off a minor coughing fit. “I’m not long for my journey into the next world.”

Sinder had begun to protest but was quickly silenced.

“No need to try and paint a rosy picture of it. I’ve had my days of glory! Now, it’s your turn. But first, we’ve received a special request from the queen, my boy! At least, that’s what I’ve been told. Here,” he had said, picking up a folded parchment with a waxed seal. “Open it, so I can send her royal messenger back to the castle. Your grandmother says he’s in the kitchens eating all our rice pudding!”

“Don’t worry,” Millie had soothed, entering the room with her arms full of wildflowers. “I had Cook hide a bowl of it just for you, my dear.”

“You’re a treasure, Millie, you are. Only, what’s all that frippery in your arms, woman? Flowers? In the duke’s chambers?”

Sinder had ducked his head and began reading the letter. It took him a while to focus on the contents, due to his grandparent’s conversation.

“You know very well that’s what they are, so don’t go asking daft questions or I’ll get the doctor to examine your head next!” Millie had warned. “And fuss all you want, William St. Ayers, but you aren’t fooling anyone. Everyone who has spent more than a few hours in your company knows you’re a sentimental old fool under all that steely nerve. Besides, you can just tell them all it was my idea, to see which flowers you’ll be wanting to take with you to the Land of Tomorrow.” Her voice had quivered.

Looking up from the queen’s missive, Sinder had forgotten all about the excitement it had created seconds before. His grandmother was in clear need of comfort.

She had sniffled and handed the flowers to Agnes, who had followed her in.

“Oh, no, no; don’t start mourning me yet, Millie,” William had crooned, gesturing for her to join him on the bed.

She had laid her head on his shoulder while his shaking hands had done their best to comfort her.

Sinder had caught Agnes’s gaze, which mirrored his own misty eyes. He’d refocused on his letter, blinking fast.

“Besides,” William had continued. “How do you know you won’t be following soon after? Haven’t you heard tales of the broken-hearted—living and dead—being reunited within just a few daybreaks of one another? I might just be selfish enough to wish for it.”

“Oh, William,” she had sighed. “You always know the right things to say, you silly old codger.”

Waiting for the silence to stretch on, Sinder had looked up from the parchment. “Well, I’m happy to report that the queen, at least, seems amenable to my suit with the princess.”

William had sat up straighter, wrapping his arm tighter around Millie when she had protested. “As she should! The Charmant’s would be fools not to see what an advantageous marriage this would be! Well, what is it she wants, boy?”

“The queen has discovered that I am, as she puts it, ‘a skilled artist who works with steel and iron,’ and asks if I’d given thought to the final day of challenges during the Ascension Festival.”

Millie had nodded against William’s chest. “Ah yes, the Day of Giving. It’s when each of the suitors offers their ladies a special gift to win their favor. The rule is that the suitors must create the gifts, themselves. Some choose poetry, others grow their lady’s favorite flower... and I think I can see where the queen is going with this,” she had finished, lifting her head. “Surely she’s not asking you to forge a sword for the princess?” she asked with a frown.

“Would that be so bad, Grandmother?” Sinder had wondered aloud, for he’d considered the same. “I’d imagine being a member of royalty paints a rather large target across your back. Carrying around some sort of protection seems a wise thing.” He had pictured the princess’s slight frame, wondering if she could even hold up a sword. Perhaps he’d gift her with a small dagger one day, when he had helped her build up her strength. “But no, that is not what the queen asks for. I wish I could tell you what it is, but I’m under strict instructions to say nothing about this.”

“What an odd request,” his grandfather had griped. “They should know we St. Ayers’s don’t keep secrets from each other!”

Sinder had opened his mouth to inform him that he had every intention of honoring the queen’s request, only to stop when his grandmother had lightly swatted her husband on his chest. “But if he marries into their family, William, he must learn to honor some of their ways, as well. Just as you did, with mine.”

The look the two had shared would have stopped evil in its tracks, had there been any in that room this day.

“My wise wife,” William had said, nodding. “Right, as usual.”

“Never doubt it.” She had leaned in for a kiss. Rising with a low groan, she had gestured for Agnes to follow her out. “Come Agnes, let us leave the men to their planning. We’ve got plenty of work to do, fixing the mess Leonora left of the castle’s inventory.”

“Would you happen to have any colored glass stored away, Grandmother?” Sinder had asked.

Millie had thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry, dearest. I haven’t seen any. Have you, Agnes?”

Agnes had stepped forward. “No, milord, but I know the perfect place to get some,” she’d said, turning to Sinder. “It’s a short ride on ‘orseback, to the market that sits between our lands and Castlelore’s.”

“Perfect. We’ll go within the hour. Gus has been left idle for too long. The trip will do him some good.” He had just hoped the princess didn’t frequent the market. Just in case, he’d bring a means to store the pieces away from any prying eyes.

“You’ll be wantin’ Telly, he’s a glassmaker with a booth on the end of the market closest to the stream facing the castle. Tell him Agnes sent you and that I said he’ll be giving you a fair price, or I’ll not watch his young ones the next time he drinks too much tavern ale and wakes with a splitting head.”

Sinder had grinned his agreement. After reassuring his grandmother that he still had enough coins left from the night of the ball and his grandfather that he’d be back later in the evening to begin planning the transfer of power, he’d made to leave.

His grandfather had stopped him at the door. “As you know, I’ve started adding new blood to our horse stock. Why don’t you take one of the guards and have him check out one of the new horse’s paces?” 

Sinder had seen through him. “And give you comfort in knowing there’s a guard stationed at my back?” He’d grinned.

William had blustered but hadn’t denied it. “I’ve heard disturbing reports of those blights on our lands, the Outbounders, or whatever fool’s name they call themselves,” he’d admitted. “It would be best if you always take at least one or two guards with you just in case they decide to pick a fight.”

Nodding, Sinder had agreed. “I just hope your new horse doesn’t slow us down, if we get outnumbered,” he’d teased.

His grandfather had always been an excellent judge of horses, as he’d shown in choosing Gustavius. He’d won him from a horse trader who hadn’t taken good care of the young horse when the duke had chanced upon the pair at the docks. A game of cards and a couple of tankards of whiskey later, and Gus had been on his way to Ellacourt and a new chance at life. A new beginning for them all, the grieving grandfather had told his devastated grandson.

Sinder snapped back to the present, reveling in the wind on his face as he and Gus thundered toward the market. The sound of approaching hooves reached his ears and glancing behind, Sinder was surprised to see the bay and guardsman had nearly caught up to them. The horse was clearly built for stamina, a valuable trait for breeding.

The tops of market tents appeared over the next hill, and Sinder and the guard pulled up on their mounts, slowing down to a trot. Dismounting, Sinder and the guardsman walked the rest of the way, deciding to enjoy the fair weather for a bit while checking out some of the market’s wares.

They tied up the horses and stopped to purchase the glass first before continuing to a soap maker’s tent. Agnes’s threat worked and Sinder had enough gold left to purchase soap for his grandmother that smelled like the freesias she loved so much. He was lifting a bar that smelled like sandalwood and pine to his nose when he spotted a familiar duo on the other side of the market’s dusty road.

Of all the cursed luck. Of course, the princess would choose today to visit the same market as he.

“Smells that bad, does it?” Lex asked with a grin.

Sinder dropped the soap back with the others, grinning back. “It smells better than you after that bruising ride, I can assure you,” he quipped. “But it wasn’t the soap bothering me. I just saw someone I’m trying to hide from.” He nodded toward Princess Charmant and the baron.

Lex whistled. “I can see why you’re lookin’ but I’m not sure why you’d want to hide from her. Unless the gent by her side is an issue.” He palmed the hilt of a dagger barely visible at his side. “Because that’s why I’m here. Just say the word, milord.”

“Tempting, but not necessary, my friend. Philippe Dormir is merely a family friend of the lady’s. Losing him would distress her, and that would distress me. And besides, the Baron of Thistlecrown likes me, and we need all the allies we can get.”

Lex grunted and then fell forward as he was rudely jostled by a man from behind. “Hey! Watch yourself—”

“Or what?” The man sneered. “You’ll have your Baron Pissingdown or this fancy lord here protect you?”

Sinder looked him over quickly, assessing the threat. Apart from the stench emitting from the rude stranger, it was obvious the man belonged to the rougher parts of the realm. Unkempt dark hair fell past his shoulders and partially obscured a scar that caused a drooping on the far corner of his right eye. What little Sinder could make of his teeth through his sneer would have made most ladies run the other way, as blackened as they were. But looking past the layers of grime that covered his skin and rough clothing, it was equally obvious the man had the strength to wield a sword or worse. Stacked lean muscle was evident wherever his skin was bare.

“Did you get yer fill, fancy pants?” The miscreant taunted. “Or would ye like a look at my arse, too?” A chorus of chuckles alerted Sinder that the man had come with reinforcements. Without turning his head, he counted three, which meant he’d only need to take out three while leaving one for Lex.

Good.

“Funny, I thought I was looking at your arse,” Sinder said finally, letting just a hint of a smile distort his mouth.

“Is that right? Look, boys, we’ve got ourselves a jester. Maybe we should take him back with us and let him prove just how funny he is.”

Lex stepped forward, looking ready to defend Sinder with his life. Sinder stayed him with an arm and warning look.

“Why wait that long for entertainment, boys? We are surrounded by open fields and sky. It’s a beautiful day for some rough sport if that’s what you’re after.” Sinder’s pulse quickened, but he channeled the energy toward examining each man for signs of strength and weaknesses, noting which weapons were in plain sight, and which could still be in hiding.

“I think I like ya a little more, now, fancy pants. At least yer not afraid to take a beatin,’” the ringleader gibed. He stepped aside, waving them out of the tent. “After ye, milord.”

Sinder kept them in his peripheral even as he searched for the princess and Philippe. He didn’t need the princess witnessing the coming violence. To his relief, neither were in sight, and he and Lex made it to the open fields behind the market.

The three men trailed Sinder and Lex and were now facing them, unsheathing their weapons.

“How do you see this playing out?” Sinder started conversationally. “I’ll take big mouth and the two on his right,” he said softly to Lex, who nodded.

The leader adjusted his grip on a nasty looking war hammer. “What do ya mean? Ya can’t believe any of ya will be walkin’ away from this, do ya now, my Lord Fancy?” he taunted.

Sinder smiled, taking out his dual-headed daggers. “You’re right,” he agreed, sharing a grin with Lex, who was gripping his sword in a way that showed he was very comfortable with it. “I suspect we’ll be dancing away.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and he gestured to his men. “We’ll see about that,” he jeered before springing forward with a shout.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Prin

“Well I think you made an excellent choice, Philippe,” Prin said as they walked away from the tent. The vendor they’d just made a purchase from specialized in crafting reproductions of jewelry and other noble adornments.

“You don’t think a scepter is too on-the-nose?” Philippe dodged an energetic youth chasing a chicken.

“Not at all. Yes, her family’s home is called Scepterstone and you’re bringing her a beautiful scepter with stones that match her eyes. But that’s the beauty of it—it’ll honor both her and her family. It is perfect.”

Grinning and looking like a hound just tossed a choice slice of venison, Philippe clutched the rough burlap to his chest. “Now, we need to find a bit of velvet to wrap it in, for I’d never want her delicate hands to touch such a coarse-spun fabric.”

Not bothering to hide her grin, Prin nodded. “Of course not. Which, sadly, leaves your whiskered cheeks out in the cold, I fear.”

Philippe’s eyes widened. “You’re right! I must remember to arrive with freshly shaven jaw when I call on her father.”

“Oh, I doubt her father will mi—” A bellow sounded from just behind the tent they were passing.

Exchanging looks, Philippe shook his head at Prin, who promptly ignored him.

“Come on. That sounded like a cry for help to me,” she said, already striding toward the direction of the sound.

“Your parents will kill me if anything happens to you in my care, Prin,” Philippe called after her. “Stop!”

Prin looked around the sloped area, disappointed when she didn’t see anything but grass and trees. Then the unmistakable sounds of clashing metal carried from over the hill.

Drawing her dagger, Prin wished for her axe, but knew it was still at home, next to the bows she and Philippe had been practicing with earlier.

“Philippe, we both know you don’t have the stomach for this, even as brave as you are. I need you to grab our horses in case we need to escape quickly. Can you do that for me?” She prayed he wouldn’t fight her on this, and to her immense astonishment, he did not.

“Fine, but you are not to leave this field. And if the fight looks bad, use the advantages the gods gave you,” he said grimly.

Crouching and making her way up the hill, Prin caught his words. “And what is that?” she asked curiously.

“Your woman’s voice. Scream from the top of your lungs, until you cannot scream anymore.” And with that sage advice, Philippe turned and darted away.

Chuckling and aware of the excitement thrumming through her veins, Prin took several deep breaths. By the time she reached the top of the hill, she felt ready for whatever was on the other side.

Her confidence faded as she stood in awe of what she found.

Sinder St. Ayers was battling two darkly clothed men who were furiously trying to separate the lord from his head; one with a longsword, and one with a hammer. Outbounders, she realized grimly. They always wore similar dark clothing when they were out in groups, her father had told her. She’d had several strategic lessons about the shadow kingdom since she’d been deemed old enough to learn about them, and regularly attended the meetings between her father and the scouts he sent out to the villages daily. But what were they doing here at the market, and on the lands that bordered two of the realm’s largest kingdoms?

She was soon distracted again by the sheer grace of Sinder’s movements. His smile was radiant, bringing an answering one to her lips. Here was a man who loved the fight just as much as she. Suddenly eager to join in the dance, she checked on the condition of the other two men that were locked in battle. The one dressed in Castlelore’s colors was holding his own against the Outbounder. In fact, judging by the cur’s increasingly sloppy movements, she’d say the guard was moments ahead of defeating his opponent. Which left her conscience clear as she turned to assist Sinder.

A cry of pain stopped her, and she breathed a sigh of relief to see it was the man with the sword, and not Sinder. The one with the hammer never even hesitated to see how his man fared before he tilted his head back and roared. He renewed his attack with a confidence that belied the fact he was now on his own... until it became obvious why.

Several men—all dressed in varying shades of grey —appeared from the dense woods bordering the field. As they ran toward Sinder and the guard, Prin saw each was armed with a weapon and identical expressions of fierce determination.

Not wasting another breath, Prin raced across the short distance until she reached Sinder. His eyes widened when he spotted her, and a thunderous frown settled over his features. Dodging the hammer that had been aimed at his face, he let out a battle cry that shook her to the core.  She wasn’t the only one affected, as several of the approaching men hesitated in their advance.

“Lex! Pull back to my flank!” Sinder yelled to the guard who’d just knocked his foe out cold and was staring at the approaching line. Shaking his head as if snapping out of a trance, Lex did as he was told.

Prin and the guard stood ready on either side of Sinder, awaiting the wave of men while he continued battling their leader. As she stared into the faces of the advancing Outbounders, she felt a wave of calm descend. Her death would be talked about this day and many to come, she knew, and it would not be for the title she held, nor for the beauty of her face and figure.

The Princess of Castlelore would die defending the realm against those who sought to destroy it; and now, she could be at peace with her purpose.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Sinder

The moment he caught sight of the princess, Sinder’s control slipped. The realization enraged him even more.

Ignoring the line of men now closing in, he decided it was time to stop toying with his prey. “Princess?” he called, his voice steadier than he would have thought possible.

“Yes, milord?”

“Look away. Now.”

Sinder couldn’t afford to ensure she obeyed, so he sent a silent plea to the gods that she had an ounce of self-preservation in that foolish, beautiful head. He shut out all other thoughts as he moved with all the speed he’d been holding back, knocking the hammer from the overconfident wretch who’d moved in close to deliver a killing strike.

With grim satisfaction, Sinder watched his opponent’s jaw slacken when his only weapon fell to the ground. It appeared he realized, too late, just how much he’d underestimated the ‘fancy lord.’

“Wait—” was all he managed before his head was removed from his shoulders.

Sinder took a step back, his knee nearly touching the ground while he wiped his blades on the grass. The deathblow he’d used was one he’d questioned Usami on its usefulness several times during their years of training. It was now one he prepared to give many thanks for.

“I’m not sure what you did,” a strained voice beside him said, “but it seems to have distressed our friends.”

Sinder looked up to find that chaos had erupted among the line of men that had been charging just seconds before. Two of them were bent over, emptying the contents of their stomachs onto the ground, and at times, onto each other. The others were looking from their fallen leader’s body back to them, and then back to each other.

“If you allow us to leave unscathed,” Sinder called out. “Then we will permit you to recover your leader’s body with no further casualties.”

The low rumbling from the men standing grew louder as the others straightened and wiped their mouths with the back of their hands.

One man, a bearded redhead taller than the others, lifted his axe and pointed it toward his fallen friend. “He wasn’t our leader, but he was a good man! And you’ll not return to anywhere, this day, except to the bloody gates of hell, where you belong!” And with an unholy war cry, he charged forward. The others quickly followed.

Sinder swore just as Lex moved into fighting position and the princess muttered something beside him. He knew, then, that he was in trouble, for clearly his wits had been scrambled by a blow he’d somehow missed.

There was no other explanation for the delicate beauty beside him to have uttered the words he thought he’d heard pass through her lips. No. He shook his head to clear it. It didn’t make sense.

“It’s about bloody time” was just not a very womanly—nor princess-like—thing to say at such a time.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Prin

There. That one.

Prin bared her teeth in a mercenary grin at the man who had no idea he’d been chosen as her first kill. She ignored the trembling in her legs and swore she could almost feel the heat from the bodies closing in. Shuttering her eyes to send a quick prayer to the goddess, Diana, Prin popped them open when a cry of surprise rang out.

The man whose death she’d mentally claimed was writhing on the ground, an arrow jutting from his neck. Bile rose at the back of her throat, but she tamped it down. Now was not the time for such weakness.

More arrows followed, scattering the Outbounders in every direction except the one Prin had hoped for.

“Jeeves!” Sinder exclaimed beside her.

Prin wasn’t sure if his relief was from seeing his friend, or for being saved from more fighting. She had a feeling it was more the former.

The young man Sinder had called to rode a horse well. Better than his companions, for certain. The two guards following close at his heels looked in danger of falling off their mounts. Then Prin noticed the two riderless horses they were leading behind them.

“Milor’!” Jeeves cried. “You must come quickly! There’s been a fire,” he said, the sadness in his eyes telling Prin that there were already significant losses.

“What fire?” Sinder demanded, putting his daggers away. “Where?”

“In the castle, itself. We’ve put most of them out, now...they were just small ones because the rooms had very little in them to burn. But, milor’, there is one that is still blazing and there’n’s nothing for it, but to keep it from spreading to other parts of the castle.” The sadness had deepened into regret, and he bowed his head to finish softly. “I’m sorry, but it took out Lord William real quick.”

“What? No,” Sinder dragged out the word, shaking his head, his eyes wild and unfocused.

Prin moved closer to lay a comforting hand on his arm. She was relieved to see Philippe walking up with their horses. There was no time to lose. “Lord St. Ayers, your people need you. Come, we will ride with you and offer any assistance we can,” she said, daring her father’s guards to argue. They did not.

One of the horses, a beautiful white and black piebald, walked up to Sinder and nuzzled his chest until Sinder put his arm around him and leaned his face against the horse’s forelock. “He can’t be gone, Gus. Not Grandfather. I wasn’t there,” he whispered hoarsely. Prin watched in amazement as the horse laid his head across Sinder’s shoulder and pulled the large man close. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said the horse was embracing him.

“Milord?” The guard, Lex, addressed Sinder. “Your grandmother is going to need you now more than ever, I imagine. Come, now. Let Gus get you home. We’ll be right behind you,” he assured him.

Prin could hear the warmth and respect in the men’s voices. It was clear that Sinder St. Ayers was a man who inspired others. She shared a look with Philippe, who’d quietly entered their group with little more than a few curious glances from the Ellacourt guardsmen. She supposed if they had recognized her, then they would no doubt have easily guessed Philippe’s identity. The two were rarely seen outside of their lands without one another.

“Is there water near the castle, Lord St. Ayers?” Philippe cut in.

As if coming out of a sleepwalk, Sinder raised his head from his horse’s neck and nodded. “Yes. There is plenty of water surrounding Ellacourt. And we have a system using pails that has seen us through a few fires over the centuries,” he added with more confidence. Looking around, Sinder started ordering his men to fill him in with details of how and where the fires started. They reported the fire had started from flame arrows, many of which fell against the stone and extinguished themselves. However, two had flown through the windows in the duke’s chambers, setting the curtains and bed linens ablaze. Sinder’s eyes closed when the report was finished.

“And did anyone see who was responsible for this attack?”

“One of the stable lads said it was a small group of men all wearing dark clothing. He didn’t offer any additional details.”

“Thank you.” Sinder swung up onto his horse, nodding at Prin and Philippe. “Please forgive me, your Royal Highness, Lord Dormir. I must return home immediately. You both are, of course, welcome to follow. We can use all the hands we can get.”

“We wouldn’t think of abandoning our neighbor in his time of need,” Philippe replied. “Right, Prin?”

Prin narrowed her eyes. She’d already said as much, hadn’t she? “Of course not. We are at your disposal, Lord St. Ayers.”

She saw a flash of something that looked like appreciation in Sinder’s eyes before he turned his horse in the direction of Ellacourt. The rest of them followed.

Prin and Philippe held their horses back a small distance from the others under the claim that they’d watch for Outbounders, should the group choose to rally and follow.

“Why would the Outbounders attack the second largest kingdom, even before they’d tackled a smaller one...someplace like my own holdings?” Philippe wondered aloud. He kept his voice carefully lowered, although they were quite a few horselengths behind the others.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Prin said, staring at the darkening skies. It was too early in the day for the sun to set, she thought idly. Perhaps a storm was rolling in. “The hope of bigger rewards?”

“Perhaps. Either way, it does explain why they had such large numbers hanging around the market. It gave them the perfect cover.”

Prin sighed. “Of all the challenges that ruling will likely bring me, I look forward to dealing with this so-called shadow kingdom the most.”

“Just know that we all stand with you, Princess Charmant. This is not a task you must face alone.”

“I do believe that is the first time you’ve called me that when we’ve been alone.”

Philippe was quiet a moment, his eyes scanning the grassy hills around them. “After seeing you charge ahead toward danger like that, and knowing you did it just as much for the safety of the kingdom as you did for the pure thrill of the fight... I just thought it was time I showed you the proper respect. Being your best friend doesn’t exclude me from making such proper distinctions.”

Prin felt moisture beading in her eyes but attributed it to the wind. She cleared her throat. “I guess I can get used to that...just as long as you don’t start bowing and scraping all the time,” she teased.

Philippe snorted. “I’ve seen you hanging upside down from a tree branch with your skirts over your head, remember?”

Chuckling, Prin ignored the heat rising in her cheeks. “How could I forget? Your incessant teasing was the reason I started wearing breeches in the first place!”

The sight of smoke plumes ahead sobered Prin. She wondered how Sinder was feeling, her heart aching for the loss she knew he’d not even begun to process. There’d be time enough for that later, she supposed, once the immediate dangers were extinguished.

Her horse shied at a small lizard crossing their path, and she soothed her with a few caresses, her thoughts still filled with the man who remained several lengths ahead of the group. His horse truly was extraordinary. Fast, strong, and obviously loyal to his master. A fitting steed for such a man.

Prin averted her eyes, knowing her infatuation had only grown after seeing Sinder fight so ferociously. And although his want to protect her on the field had irritated her briefly, she knew it had come from a good place, just as her want to protect Philippe had. It didn’t mean she could expect to see him on her lands next week. Only time would tell whether Sinder would join in the Ascension Festival to win her hand.

Prin shook her head at the direction her thoughts were heading. She may despair at the thought of not seeing his golden head among the challengers, but she knew that even if he’d considered joining the fray, he’d be unlikely to have marriage on his mind now.

“It’s doubtful,” Philippe cut into her thoughts, startling her.

“What is?”

“That the Duke of Ellacourt will find my teasing as a proper excuse for his potential wife to be seen traipsing around in men’s clothing.”

Prin stuck out her tongue, smiling when he laughed. His words struck a nerve, however. Sinder was truly the Duke of Ellacourt now, as soon as her father approved what he’d once mistakenly put a halt to. And Sinder hadn’t needed her help to do it.

But he may now, she thought, sitting up straighter in the saddle. He had not been raised for long to think of any of this as his.

As Ellacourt’s spires rose in the distance, Prin’s resolve to help the new duke’s transition to his title and power go as smoothly as possible grew. It wasn’t for purely selfless reasons, she told herself.

She shared a look with Philippe as they approached the castle and saw the blackened streaks running up the outside of the walls. The gates were open by the time they reached them, and Sinder had disappeared inside. The flurry of activity that met their arrival seemed chaotic at first, but Prin quickly recognized signs of organization.

She raised her gaze to a large hole on the side of the castle, and the sight of the orange and yellow flames shooting out spurred her into action. “You, boy! Do you know where the stables are?”

The lad, ten or eleven years old at most, nodded, his brown eyes wide as he gawked at the princess.

Philippe chuckled beside her. “Allow me, Prin. I think you’re dazzling the poor lad.” It took only seconds for Philippe to get the boy to show him where the stables were.

Ignoring her protests, Philippe insisted on taking both their horses inside. “I’ll be right back. You find out where they need the most assistance.”

Prin agreed and found a woman who appeared in charge. The robust woman said she was the castle’s cook, and she and another woman, Agnes, were directing the others to which spots needed water.  Prin watched as pails were handed between people arranged in a line where each were about an arm’s length away. The last in line and closest to the flames emptied them and then returned them in a continuous pattern. This, she knew, she could help with.

Cursing the full skirts of her dress, Prin mumbled something about men having the good sense to wear clothing that wouldn’t hamper movement, when the woman, Agnes, gave her a grin.  

The young woman directed a tall lad with a pail of water sloshing atop each of his narrow shoulders and then turned and knelt in front of Prin.

“What are you—oh!”

Agnes stepped back, admiring her handiwork. “There ya go. It’s the same thing I do when I’m around the forge fires at milord’s cottage to make sure my skirts don’t catch on anything. My man, Jeeves, is ‘is apprentice,” she explained.

Ah, the one she’d met at the field. Prin looked down at the clever way Agnes had tied her skirts to one side, allowing her greater range of movement with less yards of fabric getting in the way. “Your man is a lucky one, Agnes,” she grinned.

“That’s what I tell ‘im every day,” Agnes quipped before shouting instructions at the water gatherers.

Prin chuckled before stepping into the line between a man with his sleeves rolled up over impressive forearms and a woman with a pretty smile who did her best to hide that she was admiring them. Catching their flirtatious looks, Prin eventually arranged it so she’d traded places with the woman, earning her a look of appreciation from them both.

Before long, her back strained from the repetitive moments, and Prin distracted herself by keeping an eye on Philippe, who was further up the line, often taking two buckets at a time just to provide relief to those who’d been fighting the flames longer.

A feeling of camaraderie settled over her as she looked around the bailey through the thin layers of smoke. She couldn’t help wondering how Sinder was faring and was grateful for each glimpse of him she got. He seemed to be everywhere at once, offering encouragement to those who faltered, taking the spot of someone clearly too exhausted to continue, and sharing laughs with many, even through his pain. Or maybe because they shared his pain. It was clear that the castle folk thought of him as their own, and he returned their openness and kindness with equal fervor.

The first drops of rain fell, and raucous cheers rose from all around. Prin was shocked to see that the flames from the largest holes in the castle wall—Sinder’s grandfather’s windows, she presumed—no longer had flames flickering from them. Now, there were only faint clouds of smoke and a limited view of the charred ceiling visible from her vantage point. It seemed they had stopped the damage before it had claimed any more of Sinder’s home. And judging by the faces of those she’d waged the battle with, everyone was thanking whatever gods they worshipped that their lives and livelihood had been spared.

Prin’s pulse jumped when she saw a familiar head of golden hair approaching. She set her pail down, frantically trying to undo Agnes’s knots. To her dismay, she hadn’t worked out a single one by the time Sinder was standing in front of her.

Well, she had said she wanted a man who would accept all her peculiarities.

Smiling bravely, Prin dropped her hands to her sides. “I, uh, didn’t have time to ask for breeches.”

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Sinder

Sinder blinked, wondering if the events of the day had affected him in more ways than he knew. He had heard grief could make a man go mad.

“I-I mean, Agnes helped me tie up my skirts, so that I wouldn’t get them caught on anything. Usually, I’d wear a pair of breeches if I’d been home,” the princess babbled on. “But this worked out very well...except now I cannot undo the knot,” she continued in a rush. “That’s...uh...what I meant.”

Understanding filled him. He suppressed a grin, surprised he still had the urge considering the heavy load of loss even now threatening to bring him to his knees.

“I am told my mother preferred to ride astride and in breeches when she rode on Ellacourt lands,” he confided. “I’ve always thought it more sensible than sitting prettily to the side with rows of skirts hampering a woman’s enjoyment of a good gallop.”

The princess looked like she’d seen a ghost, the way she stared at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned that the physical toll of fighting the fire had caught up to her.

“Yes, I-I’m fine,” she stuttered before her features settled into their customary expression. “But what of you, Lord St. Ayers, I mean, Your Grace,” she corrected softly. “How is your grandmother?”

Sinder flinched at the title but did not correct her. She was right, and he needed to get used to it, however uncomfortable it made him. Her question sunk in, and he hesitated before answering. “She is in pain, obviously, but my grandfather’s death was not unexpected. He has been ill these past six months and had resigned himself to his death. As had most of us, to be honest.” He wanted to refute it; to rant and rave that with his grandfather’s death, there loomed nothing but responsibility and loneliness now. Pride held him back, refusing to allow the cracks in his façade to show.

“Still, it must be very difficult for you both.” Her voice softened.  “I’m sorry the fire took whatever time you had left with him.”

His chest tightening, Sinder shook his head. “I was told he was not taken by the flames. He had managed to pull himself from the bed and started yelling for everyone to bring water to extinguish the fire. It was the smoke that did him in, but he saved many lives. It was a death he would have preferred to simply wasting away in his bed.”

He nodded to a few of his people who walked by, thanking them for their dedication and ordering many of them to eat in the great hall, which, along with everything on the main level of the castle, had escaped damage from the fire.

Sinder spotted his grandmother, her frail shoulders slumped forward, and her eyes almost lifeless. “Grandmother!” he called, basking in the light that returned to her eyes upon seeing him.

“Sinder, my boy,” she said, palming his cheek as he wrapped her gently in his arms. “He would have been proud of what you accomplished today. You saved our home.” Her tears threatened to undo his control.

The princess stepped forward. “You must be Mildred St. Ayers, the Duchess of Ellacourt. I am Henrietta Charmant, Princess of Castlelore. Please accept my condolences for your loss. My mother and father have told us many wonderful stories about your husband’s many contributions to the realm,” she said warmly.

Sinder wasn’t prepared for the radiant smile that transformed is grandmother’s face. She stepped out of his arms and took the princess’s hand. “Everyone calls me Millie. Oh, my dear, it is so lovely to meet you! I hope to find your family in good spirits and health!”

The princess grinned back. “They are, thank you. Although, my sister threatens to throw us all into a state of frustration every day.”

“Ah, I miss those youthful spirits,” she said, eyeing Sinder with affection. “But I’m more than happy to trade them for the wisdom that age and experience bring. Wouldn’t you agree, Sinder dear?”

“Having no children of my own, I couldn’t say, Grandmother,” Sinder prevaricated. What was she up to? No, he knew very well what she was playing at.

“Ah, but didn’t you say you wanted several, when I told you how I longed to hear the echoes of happy children inside Ellacourt’s walls again?” The sly minx asked, the twinkle in her faded blue eyes worth any discomfort.

“When the woman who can tolerate my eccentric lifestyle shows up, then yes, Grandmother. I’m sure we will be more than happy to fill these halls with all the sounds of pattering feet you could hope for.”

“Eccentric lifestyle?” The princess asked before her cheeks reddened.

Sinder found the effects enticing. “For over the past decade, I’ve honed my skills as a blacksmith.” He raised his chin. “The physical labor keeps me in great physical shape, while the artistry of forging satisfies a restlessness not easily explained to those who don’t also experience it.”

“I can see that,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “H-how it keeps you in shape, I mean.”

Her cheeks had gone from pink to nearly red, he noticed, fascinated with watching the transformation. Where was his fearless warrior princess now?

Coughing delicately behind her hand, his grandmother looked as if she were struck by a sudden thought. “I’ve got most of our castle folk opening up windows and scrubbing the soot away. Why don’t you show the princess your forge, Sinder dear? It may be something she’d find of interest,” she hinted, looking into the princess’s eyes intently.

Sinder wasn’t sure what passed between them, but the princess echoed his grandmother’s words, claiming she’d always been fascinated with how weapons were made. And he had to admit, his chest rose at the chance to show off his skills.

“If you’re sure you don’t need me—” he began.

“We’ll manage without you for now, dear,” she said, patting his arm and giving the princess’s hand a squeeze before she stopped suddenly, sighing.  “Although, she may not feel comfortable with being in such an isolated space without a proper chaperone. I suppose I could pull one of the kitchen maidens, my dear, if you prefer.”

Sinder wasn’t fooled, but he tensed, waiting for the princess’s reply.

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” she reassured the older woman. “I was trained to defend myself against any...untoward advances...from a tender age,” she said smugly.

Sinder snorted before he could catch himself. He brought a hand up to his chest, banging on it like he’d merely suffered from a digestive discomfort. “Very good, Princess. Although I hope you feel safe in my presence.”

She held his gaze. “You may be surprised at just how safe I do feel, Your Grace.”

The air crackled as something passed between them. Sinder wasn’t exactly sure what, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“Enjoy yourselves!” his grandmother said brightly, turning away with a small smile.

She’d taken several steps away from them when Sinder realized he hadn’t seen Usami or Yuuto since he’d first arrived. They’d been working tirelessly for hours, his grandmother had said, so he hoped they were getting some rest. He’d visit with them later in the evening, if they hadn’t made their way to the forge by then.

“Shall we?”

The princess nodded, but then her smile faded. “I would love to. Only, have you seen Philippe? He will worry if I simply disappear,” she explained with a rueful grin.

Sinder chuckled. “I’m beginning to see that you two come as a packaged pair.” He ignored her curious look, raising a hand to get Philippe’s attention when he spied him speaking with Jeeves and Agnes.

Philippe joined them, his face showing signs of weariness.

Sinder laid a hand briefly on his shoulder. “Thank you, Lord Dormir, for helping me save my home and my people. I will not forget this favor, neighbor.”

“Good.” Philippe grinned. “Although you owed me even before this, you know,” he said, holding his gaze..

Sighing in mock exasperation, Sinder rolled his eyes. “Fine. Thank you, again, Lord Dormir. I am twice in your favor.”

“You can thank me with naming your firstborn—ouch!” Philippe grabbed his foot, his face a mask of pain.

“Oh, Philippe,” the princess scolded, “you should really be more careful.” She turned to Sinder. “He’s always been this clumsy, you know.”

Sinder bowed, more in an effort to hide his grin than for the sake of formality. “Even the basic functions are difficult for us clumsy brutes when someone so lovely and graceful is nearby.”

“Oh, I say, Your Grace, excellent work. We’ll make a statesman out of you yet,” Philippe laughed.

“How thrilling,” the princess said, sounding anything but thrilled.

Sinder gave up trying to decipher her mood.

He did, however, look forward to seeing her response to a little heat...

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Prin

Dismounting, Prin tried to quell the butterflies that had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach.

The ride from the castle to Sinder’s forge had been pleasant, once the rain had subsided. Sinder had led the way, stopping to caution her when the path grew muddy or to point out a spot that reminded him of his early days spent roaming the land. Yet, no matter how many smiles or how much laughter the tales he recounted brought forth, none included names of childhood friends. There were plenty of memories with his grandparents, and even some of his horse, but very few mentions of his brothers, and none of neighboring lads or young ladies—highborn or not.

Mustering her courage, she handed him her horse’s reins and watched him tie them to the outside of Gus’s stall before finally asking what she wanted to know. “So, I didn’t hear any stories of close friends or even a pretty maiden or two,” she said, her cheeks flaming. “Was that because of your stepmother and brothers?”

Sinder was silent for several moments, and Prin began to wonder if he’d heard her. 

“Take care of her,” she heard him murmur to Gus. The piebald neighed loudly, and Sinder laughed. “Yes, she is way above your station, but that’s no excuse for behaving badly. I’ll be back to give you two a treat from Cook.” Gus scratched at his stall, as if to demand the treat be given now.

Sinder shook his head. “Behave yourself and don’t let me hear from—” he stopped, turning to look at Prin. “What’s this lovely lady’s name?”

“Miracle, but I call her Mira.”

“Right,” he grinned, turning back to Gus. “Don’t let me hear from Lady Mira that you’ve behaved with anything less than your best behavior. She is our guest.”

Gus snorted and shook his head, much to their amusement. “I’ve never met a horse with so much personality,” Prin said with a laugh.

“Perhaps that’s why the lack of boys and girls my age never really affected me,” he said softly.

So, he had heard. Prin knew, then, she’d hit a sensitive subject. She set out to recapture their easy camaraderie. “I believe you’ve done all you can to ensure that Gus will be on his best behavior,” she declared. “Now, I would really like that tour.”

She was rewarded when some of the tension released from his shoulders and his easy smile returned. “I’m happy to oblige.” He opened the door and swung out his arm to indicate she could enter. “After you.”

The doorway was narrow, with his arm taking up quite a bit more space than she would have guessed, but Prin managed to squeeze past without their bodies touching. It didn’t stop her traitorous skin from singing every time it got too close to his. Being this close to him and not touching him was going to be harder than she thought.

“You smell of smoke and earth,” Sinder said, effectively breaking the spell he’d unknowingly cast on her senses.

“Oh,” she said, irritated that his comment made her wish she’d been able to freshen up first. It wasn’t like he smelled good, either.

His lips quirked. “What? You’re not going to tell me I smell like a dung heap? I thought we’d gotten past the pleasantry stage.”

She laughed, her anger melting. “We have, but I’m not quite sure we’ve moved to the painfully honest one.”

Sinder threw back his head, his unrestrained laughter exposing the thickness of his neck that had captured her interest more than once. She wondered if he’d ever willingly sit for a painting.

“So, my not-too-honest Princess Charmant, what do you think of my forge?” He was still smiling, but there was a note of pride in his voice.

Prin looked around, realizing she’d been too intent on studying him to notice much of her surroundings.

“It’s very cozy,” she said after taking it all in. “I can see why you’d want to spend a lot of time here.”

“Cozy,” he repeated, as if hearing the word for the first time.

“Yes. Even though it’s open back there—” she pointed to the far end of the forge— “everything up here feels closed in and comforting. I think you have the best of all worlds here.”

His eyes searched her face, lingering on her mouth in a way that made her want to look away. She forced herself to return his hungry look with a steady one of her own and was rewarded when he took a step toward her.

Raising a hand to trail gently down her face, he murmured. “I believe you’re right, Princess. The best of all worlds is here in this room. And I’m claiming it, now.” He dipped his head and Prin’s eyelids lowered of their own volition. And when his arms gathered her body to fit against his, she sighed against his lips.

He captured her mouth in a kiss that felt as if he were branding her, marking her as his until she was ruined for any others. She welcomed him, groaning when his tongue slid into her mouth and boldly explored the tender flesh inside.

Her hands itched to tangle themselves in his hair, and she struggled to free them—crushed against his chest, as they were.

Sinder grunted but moved back just enough for Prin to raise her arms. Sighing her approval, she slid them up until her fingers grazed against the roughness of his jaw, where he kept the hairs so short, they were barely visible. His mouth continued its assault on her senses until she was afraid she would burst.

Lightning was dancing along every part of her body that made contact with his. The ache building was not one Prin was familiar with, and she moved restlessly against him. She wanted...something.

But when Sinder loosened his grip around her, and his kiss turned from exploring to a reluctant retreat, she knew she would not be discovering exactly what her body was craving.

At least, not this night.

Chapter Thirty

Sinder

He hadn’t meant to kiss her. But the moment the princess had walked past him into the forge, he knew he was in trouble. Her scent, the way her skin beckoned for him to test its softness...stirred desires that were maddening in their intensity.

He’d irrationally hoped her reaction to the forge would have been what most highborn lady’s would likely have been—disgust with the soot that coated things no matter how many times he cleaned or, perhaps, pity for the simple crudeness of the furnishings and lack of adornments. But no, not his princess. She’d looked around it like it were just another room in her castle and declared it “cozy.” And it had given him hope as nothing else had, that here was the woman who would stand by his side, not only tolerating his interests—as he had stated earlier—but sharing in them.

His body thrummed with need as her restless movements nearly drove him past the point of caring that she was both a princess and an untouched maiden. But the voices of the few women and men who had helped shape him swirled inside his head, reminding him of his duty to protect and honor.

One particular voice was louder than the rest, and it pulled him back from the precipice of desire better than any other could have. His eyes fluttered open, confusion setting in when the voice in his head sounded much different—and closer— than it had only seconds before.

“Sinder? Prin? You’ve got to let me in.”

Sinder raised his head, grinning when the princess groaned in protest. But the concern in Lord Dormir’s voice called for urgency.

After steadying her gently by the shoulders, Sinder strode to the door and opened it to admit the princess’s childhood friend.

“What is it?” The question came out sharper than he intended, not that Philippe seemed to notice.

Looking past him, Sinder could see why. Even from this far, he recognized the Castlelore banners.

“Bloody—”

“Right. So, why don’t you stand aside, and we’ll pretend I’ve been here the entire time,” Lord Dormir said before pushing his way into the forge.

Sinder closed the door and turned to find a now-alert Princess Charmant staring at her friend as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

Undeterred, Philippe continued, “Prin, your mother and father heard about the attack at the market and the fact that we were here helping with the fire.”

“Oh, no,” she groaned, her eyes widening. “Did they bring the entire entourage?”

Philippe and Sinder answered in unison. “I’m afraid so.”

Panic lit her eyes until she shuttered them and took in a deep breath. When she reopened them, Sinder’s warrior princess stared back at them. “No mention of my being involved in the fight in any way, whatsoever,” she ordered.

“There wasn’t much of a fight, so easy enough,” Sinder grinned.

The look she threw at him told him she wasn’t amused. “And Philippe, you immediately removed me from harm’s way when we happened upon riders from Ellacourt who told us our neighbors were in trouble.” She started pacing, her voice clipped but in control.  “Of course, we could not simply ride away knowing they were in need, so we rode here, where I helped...govern over the fire rescue efforts. We came out here to...get away from the smoke...no, no, no...to distract Lord St. Ayers from his losses.”

Sinder narrowed his eyes; not sure he liked having his grief bandied about in such cavalier terms.

The princess saw his frown and hurried to grab his hand. “My apologies for seeming indifferent to your pain, Lord St. Ayers. I am not, it’s just that my parents can be...”

“A royal pain?” Sinder suggested, giving her hands a light squeeze to show he understood.

She laughed softly, nodding her head.

They all jumped when Gus let out an ear-piercing whinny, followed closely by one from Mira.

“I believe Gus is teaching Lady Mira bad habits,” Sinder teased.

“Or useful ones,” she quipped.

“Perhaps we should greet your parents outside, Princess Charmant,” Philippe suggested, waving his hand toward the door.

A loud rapping sounded at the door and Sinder looked from Lord Dormir to the princess. “Too late. So, excuse me while I go invite them in.”

His voice betrayed none of the misery settling over him like the darkest of storm clouds. For now, what he’d dreaded would happen from the first moment he’d acknowledged to himself of his infatuation with the princess, was finally about to happen.

Her family was going to see how completely and utterly unworthy he was of her.

Chapter

Thirty-One

Prin

“Your Royal Highness, you are breathtaking!”

Prin heard the words through the same fog that had clouded her thoughts since the night she’d last seen Lord St. Ayers, the Duke of Ellacourt. Sinder. Her mind caressed the word even as her heart forbade its acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Meg. You outdid yourself,” she said simply. Looking at her reflection as the door to her bedchamber closed behind the maid, Prin wondered who the stranger with the bouncing curls and bright eyes staring back at her was. For surely, anyone whose heart ached as much as hers had no business looking this...starry-eyed.

Running her hands across the beautiful shimmering fabric, Prin had to admit the dress was every bit as stunning as the first time she’d tried it on.

She rubbed a finger across one of the glass pieces that made up the center of a small, silken flower. The brilliant blue reminded her of the sapphires from the dress she’d almost worn to her Nova Ball, where she’d met a golden-haired nobleman bound to break her heart.

Refusing to allow her control to slip, she took a deep breath in, releasing it with a smile. Just because Sinder St. Ayers wasn’t smart enough to see a quality lady when he saw one, didn’t mean others of the kingdom wouldn’t.

By the time there was a knock at her door, Prin felt ready to face the first day of her Ascension Festivities.

“Enter!”

Mari bounded into the room, her brightly-colored dress of teal and gold the perfect foil for her youthful beauty. “You look even more incredible in this dress now than you did the first time!” she exclaimed.

“Thank you, dearest. And look at you! More beautiful than ever, Maribell. I should be jealous, but the sight of your loveliness fills me with too much joy,” Prin teased.

Mari blushed. “You are always so kind, Prin.” She looked down at the floor.

“What troubles you?”

When Mari raised her head, there were unshed tears glistening from the corners of her eyes. “Everything is about to change!” she blurted out.

Prin rushed to embrace her sister, pulling back to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Well, of course it is. But that doesn’t mean it has to be an unpleasant change,” she said more for her sister’s benefit than because there any truth in it.

“Soon, you’ll be busy with a husband, and with taking over for mother and father.” Mari sniffled. “There won’t be any time left for just the two of us.”

Blinking back tears, Prin took her sister’s hand and guided her to sit on the edge of her bed. “Dearest, I don’t care how many husbands, or feuding villagers I have to deal with a day.” She tucked her sister’s hair behind her ear. “I will always make time for you.”

“Well, what if the Duke of Ellacourt forbids it?” Mari asked with a fierce look on her face.

Prin sighed. “I told you, Mari. The duke seemed very happy to see the back of me the last time I was in his company. He has never given me any inclination that he would be at today’s festivities. And if he were, I am sure it would simply be as a spectator and in the spirt of thanks for my help with the fire.”

Saying the words aloud was even more soul-crushing than thinking them, but what else was she to think after the abrupt change he’d undergone the moment her parents had stepped into the forge? He’d answered their questions like a polite but disinterested host until it was time to say their farewells. Her parents had been adamant that she and Philippe travel home with them. So, without any encouragement from Sinder that she stay, Prin had left with them.

Even when she’d mounted Mira and looked over her shoulder to see if he were watching them, she’d found nothing but a mask of politeness staring back at her.

It had been several days since then. Although she’d heard from her parents that his grandfather had been properly buried, and the Ellacourt title and lands had been bestowed upon him by royal decree, Prin had heard nothing from the new Duke of Ellacourt.

“Then he’s too stupid to deserve you,” Mari grumbled.

Prin’s lips twitched. “I quite agree, although I’d never be so cruel as to tell him to his face,” she said, in case Mari thought to do so.

“Well, I would,” she said, confirming Prin’s fears.

“Mari...”

“Don’t worry,” Mari pouted, wiping at her cheeks. “I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt you.”

A jolt of regret mixed with love for her sister hit Prin. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten your hopes up about him being my suitor. I’m sorry, dearest. But you shouldn’t fault him too much. He really didn’t encourage my affections. I’m afraid the infatuation was all one-sided,” she said with a grin, ignoring her heart screaming ‘but what about the kiss?’! “Which means that my true match is someone we could very well meet today! Come, let’s talk no more about the unhappy things of yesterday, and look, instead, towards the beauty of what today could bring!”

“May I come in?” The queen’s voice called from outside the door just before it opened.

“Of course, Mother,” Prin said, giving Mari’s hand a squeeze and helping her to her feet.

“Oh, look at you two beauties,” the queen said, her voice wavering. “How proud I am of both my girls! Come, embrace your mother.” She opened one arm, the other curiously held behind her blue and gold brocaded skirts.

They both threw their arms around her, until she pulled back, wiping her eyes. Facing Prin, she said, “I have a special gift for you, my child. One I hope you will treasure, always.”

Prin leaned toward the side where her mother’s arm remained hidden. “You didn’t have to give me a gift, Mother. What is it?”

The queen brought her hand forward, revealing a crown of iron leaves and flowers that replicated the pattern on her dress. Flashes of color played off the stunning glass in each flower’s center, reflecting a show of both strength and beauty.

“Oh Mother, it’s stunning...” Prin reached for it in awe. “Whoever made it is an incredible craftsman,” she said, turning it over and over to admire the detailed design from its unfurling buds to the intricate veining on the leaves. The artist had even inscribed a few letters inside. Prin studied them before asking her mother, “Y-L-H. Are those his initials?”

“Let me see!” Mari said, moving closer.

The queen took the crown gently from her daughter’s hands and placed it atop her head. “We must make haste so that the games can begin,” she scolded. At their pouting, she grinned, relenting enough to say, “I was told that the craftsman would be here during the festivities. You can ask him what they mean when he introduces himself. Now, where are your hair pins, so we can ensure this does not fall?”

With her mother and Mari’s help, Prin was ready within moments. She took one last glimpse in the mirror before she turned toward the door. “Come. I am ready to find the man who will rule beside me.”

And, for the first time in several days, Prin believed it.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

Sinder

Five challengers left. Sinder liked those odds, especially when the first nobleman let his arrow loose too soon, causing it to sink harmlessly into the dirt a foot away from the target.

Usami made a sound of disgust. “None of these noblemen are fit to protect the princess, much less deserving of a ruling position at her side. Where are the warriors of Gailleth?”

Sinder grunted but couldn’t answer him since he’d been wondering the same thing. He’d led such a sequestered life at Ellacourt, it had been a shock to see the sad state of the men he would one day be expected to lead into battles.

If he won, of course.

His eyes searched out the princess and he sighed, feeling like a moonstruck lad when he spotted her sitting between Lord Dormir and her sister. She was as striking as ever in a vibrant blue frock, her hair worn down and in loose waves today.

He’d been admiring her from afar, although that was about to change thanks to some carefully coordinated plans with the king and queen. Today was the first day she would see that he had joined the fight for her hand. Which would explain why his hands were slick with perspiration. “Did you bring that curious white powder?” he asked Usami.

“Of course.” Usami dug out a small glass container and handed it to Sinder. “A man prepared to lose is—”

“Also ready to win,” finished Sinder with a somber nod. He thought it unwise to mock the man today who had prepared him for the path he now walked. “Have I given proper thanks for the hours of training you gave a lost, resentful lad?” he wondered aloud, not looking at his friend. He knew Usami was not a man who courted praise, and so the answering silence was a comfortable one.

“Our next archer is Sinder St. Ayers, the Duke of Ellacourt!” The royal crier announced, as the people in the crowds surrounding the field all started murmuring at once. “No hiding, now,” Sinder said, sending a wink to Usami. “It hardly seems fair that you still get to enjoy the peace of a hidden identity,” he fired at him with a pointed look at the hooded cloak Usami had been wearing the past few days.

“Aim for the middle,” Usami encouraged with a hint of a smile, ignoring his gibe.

Sinder let out a bark of laughter, losing most of the nerves that had threatened from the moment he’d begun wondering what the princess thought of his presence.

The memory of her lip’s sweet surrender buoyed his confidence. She was already his, whether she knew it before today or not. And now that his name had been announced, making his intentions clear to all in Gailleth...well, let someone more worthy wrest away his claim. He welcomed them. But until then, it was time to give her—and the crowds—someone worth cheering for.

Nodding to the first contender whose confident smirk was at odds with his performance, Sinder knew he could hardly do any worse. He positioned himself in line with the targets and unscrewed the jar of powder Usami had given him. Dusting his hands, he tucked the glass back in a hidden pocket he’d had sewn into his tunic to hide treats for Gus. The young stable lad Sinder had met at Princess Charmant’s Nova Ball ran across the grass, bringing him an impressive bow, along with three arrows.

“Courtesy of the king, milor’!”

Sinder turned, bowing his head in thanks to the king. He managed to avoid looking at the princess. There’d be time to deal with her outrage later. For he was in little doubt that he had earned it. Philippe and Princess Mariella had both informed him of the princess’s pique, as well as for its reason. Daft woman.

“Thank you—Odis, was it?”

Odis’s face flushed. “Yes, milor’! I was hopin’ you remembered! Good luck, milor’!” The lad said before scampering off.

Sinder breathed in the fresh air, ignoring the less pleasant scents wafting from a group of mounted guards that were keeping a watchful eye on the tourney.

Nocking the first arrow and aiming for the closest target, Sinder welcomed the tautness in the muscles of his arms as he pulled back on the string.

He sucked in a steadying breath and let the arrow fly.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Prin

She resented the disruption Sinder was causing to the small amount of peace she had found watching the tourney.

And did he have to show up just when she’d reconciled herself to a match with the Duke of Pellham, despite his unfortunate tendency to stare at women’s breasts when he conversed with them? Or to the Prince of Rancroft, who was the epitome of a young lady’s dreams on the outside, but as vacuous and self-serving as an infant on the inside? Prin shuddered.

In less time than it took to admire the way the sunlight turned his hair into spun gold, he’d made all the other men seem even more grossly incompetent and unappealing in comparison. It should not be permitted. And so, Prin would tell her parents—as soon as she watched the duke shoot these arrows.

“Look at how effortless he makes drawing back that impossibly heavy bow my grandfather gave you after we were married, dearest,” her mother loudly exclaimed to her husband.

Prin rolled her eyes. She’d shot it before, and while she’d admit it was heavier than most other bows, it was still simple enough to use.

The king chuckled. “Yes, I don’t believe your father was a big fan of mine in those early days, was he, my love?”

“Oh, is that why you gave the duke the same bow, Father?” Mari asked sweetly, giving Prin a wink.

Prin giggled when her father frowned.

“That isn’t what I mean at all, Mariella, and you know it,” he blustered. “The Duke of Ellacourt knows he has my full sup—”

A wave of approval sounded from the crowd and Prin cursed under her breath. She’d been too busy enjoying her father’s discomfiture and so had missed the duke’s first shot.

She watched him take aim again, in far less time than before, and let his arrow loose.

Bullseye.

The duke raised his fist in exultation and the spectators went wild. Which, considering the poor showing they’d received from the other challengers, was understandable, Prin supposed. It didn’t, however, make it any less irritating.

“I still don’t understand how I didn’t notice before that he was one of my suitors,” Prin said when the crowd had calmed. It was a sore spot, knowing her family had plotted with the duke to keep his involvement a secret until now. But only because knowing he hadn’t played fast and loose with her affections would have saved her a couple nights of unrest.

“It’s not our fault you didn’t question why we sent you three on such silly errands the first two days. And you need to stop looking at this in such a negative light,” her mother snapped in a moment of rare impatience. “Can you not accept that we did it only because we hoped it would be a happy surprise for you, my child?”

Prin felt a moment of shame. Her mother was right. And worrying about only her own feelings was doing all of them a disservice. The duke had just buried his beloved grandfather and yet here he was, making a spectacle of himself to win her affections. She turned back, determined to be more appreciative of the love and support that had gotten her to exactly where she wanted to be. If, that is, the Duke of Ellacourt won the tourney.

When his final arrow hit the center of a target that even Prin may have struggled making while using such an ungainly bow, she sighed. It was pleasant to finally have a proper suitor vying for her hand.

But shouldn’t it be a bit more challenging for him?

As Prin watched the duke striding from the field, waving to his new fans, a plan began to form...

“Father, I need your assistance,” Prin stated. “And your forbearance.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of this?” Her father groaned.

Her mother grinned, reminding Prin of where most of her and Mari’s daring natures sprung from. “We’re all ears, dear.”

Chapter

Thirty-Four

Sinder

“She what?” Sinder stared at Philippe, whose grin stretched far wider than the size of his jaw should have allowed.

“Princess Charmant has decided that she deserves a say in whom she marries, and so will be participating in the next challenge.” He cleared his throat. “This will, of course, allow her to more closely observe the lot of you.”

Sinder continued to stare at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

“She is a princess, after all,” Philippe stated, his clear blue eyes sparkling with devilry.

“But you just said we would be throwing axes for our next challenge!” Sinder wasn’t sure why he was now shouting.

Princess Mariella raised her hand, as if trying to halt their conversation.

Phillippe turned to her and shook his head.

She rolled her eyes but dropped her hand back to her side. Sighing, she stared at Sinder with the first light of compassion in her eyes that he’d seen since she’d offered her condolences over his grandfather’s passing.

Turning back to Philippe in confusion, Sinder tempered his tone to a more reasonable volume. “Princess Charmant is a woman of great beauty, grace, and intelligence, but she is not exactly built for flinging axes that probably weigh more than half her own weight. Does her father know of this?” He demanded, hoping someone could be counted on for using good judgment.

“He knows and approves. Mother, too,” Princess Mariella spoke up. “Now, if I were you, I’d reconcile myself to the fact that you’ll be going up against six other contenders, rather than five, and leave it at that. No use upsetting yourself over something you can’t control,” she said pertly.

Staring between her and Lord Dormir, who continued to grin like a fool, Sinder blew out a deep breath and looked for Usami. Where did the man keep disappearing to?

Once he felt he’d gotten himself under control, he nodded to Philippe. “Fine. I will see Her Royal Highness on the field.”

“Indeed, you shall,” Princess Mariella said with a wave of her fingers.

Sinder heard Philippe demand as they walked away, “Stay out of it, Miting.”

Her response was low, but still audible. “Your arrogance is maddening, Philippe Dormir, and I cannot wait to see Lady Aurelia make you dance to her tune.”

Shaking his head, Sinder wondered if that was what the princess was doing with this newest test. Was this to be his punishment for leaving her in doubt of his affection?

For, if her concern had been anywhere close to what his was in this moment, then perhaps he deserved whatever she wished to do to him.

“Princess Charmant, please reconsider,” the sniveling lord with padded shoulders implored. “This field has six men—sorry, five now—armed with axes in their hands...you could be harmed by any one of them!”

“Thank you for your concern, Lord Bellows, but let me remind you that I, too, have an axe in my hand. Who’s to say it won’t be one of you who gets hurt?”

Sinder silently echoed the men’s chuckles but wasn’t fool enough to let the princess hear it. He knew enough about her to determine she had just as much pride as any of them.

“Of course, Princess. As you say. Just know that I have the perfect herbs at home if you were to get hurt,” the Lord of Boring said with a sniff.

Sinder rolled his eyes but had to admit he was feeling better about her being on the field. When the first Lord of WhatsHisName had flung his axe wildly—proving his lack of experience in ever having picked one up before—it had created panic in the crowd due to how dangerously close to them it had landed. At least with the princess out here, he could better shield her in such an event.

The next contender was called, and then the next, each making the last look like experts in comparison. Ready to try his luck, the final suitor (before it got down to him and the princess), the Duke of Pellham, moved forward. He stopped short when he reached the princess and made the grave mistake of staring at her breasts while requesting a ribboned favor.

She declined with a glare, opening her mouth, no doubt, to give the man a well-deserved setdown.

“Your Grace,” Sinder interrupted conversationally, gnashing his teeth when the duke took longer than he should to transfer his eyes to Sinder’s.

“Yes, Your Grace?” The reprobate answered drolly, turning the axe over in his hand.

“I once saw a man perform an amazing feat of skill. He had his brother stand against a target and hold an apple in his mouth. We were all shocked when he then threw an axe at his brother, all without even taking the time to aim! I’d always wondered if I could find someone brave enough to let me try such a thing. What say you? We are both of similar rank, are we not...brother?”

The duke’s face blanched even as the princess covered her mouth during a coughing fit. “I-I must regretfully decline. It appears I am up, Your Grace,” he said, swinging around to face the target.

The poor wastrel was so rattled, he nearly took off the head of a royal guard who stood a good twenty feet away from them...on the far side of the field.

“Valiant effort, Your Grace!” Sinder called, relishing the sounds of laughter the princess could no longer contain.

The duke glared at them both before stomping off the field.

Sinder noticed a familiar cloaked figure standing on the sidelines before Usami disappeared into the crowd again.

“That would have been horribly done of you, had he not deserved it,” The princess laughed up at him.

“Yes, had he not.” He stressed the last word with a grin.

They both sobered when Princess Charmant’s name was called.

“Good luck, princess.”

“You’ll need it far more than shall I.”

“You may be right. If I only had thought to bring a shield.”

“It would not protect you, should I wish to aim for your head.”

“It is a rather...large target,” he conceded.

Sinder’s grin disappeared the moment the princess turned her back to him.

He was going to need more of that powder.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Prin

Still basking in the warmth of Sinder’s chivalrous defense of her against the odious Duke of Pellham, Prin adjusted her grip on the axe. She need not so much as turn her head to know that everyone’s eyes were upon her. Their murmurs and whispers created a humming that continued to grow until it rivaled a murderous swarm of bees in the stillness of the open field.

But Prin would not let their censure deter her.

This was something she’d decided to do, not only to give the Duke of Ellacourt some proper competition, but also to send a message to the entire realm: Henrietta Charmant, the Princess of Castlelore, was neither weak, nor incapable of ruling the men and women of Gailleth simply because she was a woman. Nor did she think herself beneath the common men or women who provided food for their families from the tips of their arrows and heat to their homes by the swing of their axes. No matter what the defectors of the shadow kingdom claimed.

“The spectators of today’s Ascension Festival are about to receive a rare gift—which seems appropriate just ahead of the Day of Giving. Castelore’s princess and Gailleth’s soon-to-be ruler, Princess Henrietta Charmant, is our next axe-thrower!” The royal crier dabbed at the moisture beading on his forehead with a soiled square of cloth after making his pronouncement.

Prin stifled a grin when he hurried to stand behind the Duke of Ellacourt’s broad form. So much for inspiring faith in her people.

Everything faded around her as she focused on her breathing and on the target a few horselengths away. This was just how she’d practiced ever since she was a young lady with too much energy for any of her tutors’ peace of mind. She’d been fortunate that her family had found the perfect outlet for her restlessness—one that had also given her the confidence and self-sufficiency she would need in high-stake moments. Now, she would make good use of her skills.

Lifting her axe over her head, she drew her arms back, engaging the parts of her body she knew would maximize her strength. Prin released the axe at the angle she’d predetermined and watched with satisfaction as the blade sunk into the wooden target. She knew from the position of the handle that the axe had made it to the middle of the innermost painted circle.

She turned instinctively toward Sinder, wanting to see his reaction more than any others.

But the duke wasn’t standing with his mouth open, or even staring at her with one of his enticing half-smiles and pride lighting his eyes. Nothing close to either of those pleasant scenarios, in fact.

Prin stood in shock as the man she’d grown to care for, the one she’d pressed her lips to and dreamt of the moment when she could again, lifted his axe above his shoulders and threw it at her.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

Sinder

When the princess lifted the axe with an ease that astonished him, Sinder felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Then she took aim, positioning her small frame as if the axe were merely an extension of her arms. As experienced as he was, he knew a master at work when he saw one.

Perhaps it had been this realization that had allowed his gaze to wander to just beyond where the princess stood, and spot a figure dressed in dark clothing that made him appear more of a shadow than a man of flesh-and-blood, suddenly take off into a run towards her. A flash of sunlight glinted off an object in the man’s hand and Sinder knew he didn’t have much time.

Instinctively, he positioned his body into a throwing stance, vaguely registering that a collective gasp had erupted from the crowd before it turned into frenzied clapping.

The would-be assassin had timed his attack well...but Sinder knew he’d made one fatal mistake. And in the split-second before the axe embedded into his skull, the assassin knew it, too.

Sinder met the princess’s wide-eyed gaze, knowing she was likely in shock. But when the clapping around them turned to screams and stampeding, she visibly snapped out of it.

“Sinder, behind you! Here, take Delicate!”

Sinder had little time to register that Delicate was the beautifully carved dagger she tossed to him handle-first before he turned around and sunk it into the neck of another attacker.

He didn’t stop to watch the man’s gap-toothed mouth take its final gasp of air as he pulled the dagger out and wiped the blade in the grass.

“Princess,” he said, handing the blade back to her and removing his own smallsword from its hidden sheath.

“The Outbounders—they’ve reached my family!” she cried, staring toward the royal box before she broke out into a run toward them.

Cursing, Sinder followed, stopping only to take a longsword from a dead guardsman. He watched in amazement as the princess did the same in one fluid movement. Although, he thought while shoving his sword into a figure dressed in dark grey, he wasn’t sure why anything she did surprised him.

It was clear to him now; he’d never truly known her at all.

Sinder caught up with the princess, slicing and stabbing anything that even looked in her direction. He saw Philippe locked in battle with a man who had one hand on a terrified Mariella, while the king protected the queen from two others who fought feverishly to reach her.

They were trying to kidnap the royal ladies! Which meant the princess was in greater peril than she knew.

“Princess!” His call fell on deaf ears because she’d already reached her family and had surprised the Outbounder fighting Philippe with a lightning-fast slice to his arm. The hand holding her sister fell to the floor as its former owner’s screams filled the air. His shrieks turned to gurgling when her dagger went straight through his throat.

“Sinder!” A familiar voice called to him just as he felled a man stupid enough to creep up behind the princess.

She looked back at him, nodding her thanks before something beside him caught her attention. Her eyes widened, but Sinder couldn’t tell if it was in awe, fear, or something else. She whirled around and engaged one of the men attacking the king.

He turned to find Usami bashing a giant brute of a man in the head with the hilt of a sword. The man stumbled back, holding the wound on his head that had started bleeding into his eye. Usami took advantage of his distraction and stuck his foot in between the giant’s legs. He fell backwards, hard, and moved no more.

“The king’s guards are better trained than those who grow soft off the land,” Usami said grimly, when he’d reached him.

They both purveyed the field.

It was true, Sinder was relieved to see. Most of the Outbounders left were yelling to the others to retreat into the woods, with many of the king’s guards in pursuit. The fact that the plain-clothed men had dared to risk a skirmish with the armored guardsmen suggested their plans had depended heavily on the element of surprise.

“They were after the queen and the princesses,” Sinder said through gritted teeth.

He watched two mounted guards ride up to speak with the king, who had his arms around his wife. Philippe was talking to the princess, gesturing and pointing to one of the Outbounders lying still on the ground. Princess Mariella stepped gingerly over another body that was close to the guards but set apart from his other fallen comrades. She let out a blood-curdling scream when the ‘dead’ man jumped to his feet and grabbed her in one arm before pulling the startled guard closest to him off his horse.

It happened so fast that it spooked the horse next to it, causing it to rear. The rider tried desperately to grasp at the reins but his hands found nothing but air. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

Taking advantage of the mayhem, the Outbounder threw Mariella over the saddle and then clawed his way up behind her.

Princess Charmant let out a cry of rage and jumped over the body lying in front of her, her dagger in hand.

The Outbounders eyes widened at the sight and he kicked the horse viciously. They sprang forward with a burst of speed, knocking Princess Charmant to the ground as she reached them.

Sinder let out a roar and was at her side without ever remembering taking the steps to get there. “Princess, are you hurt?” he asked desperately, cradling her body and moving a strand of her hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered, and then she sat upright. “Mari! I must go after them!”

“You will never have to fight these battles alone, again,” Sinder told her before calling for Usami. “Make sure she doesn’t come after me,” he said before leaping to his feet.

He expected the outraged curse that followed behind him, even as he calmed the frightened horse and jumped into the saddle. But it was the words that came after that he knew would stay with him longest.

“Usami? What are you doing here? I thought you left years ago.”

Frowning, Sinder shook his head. He’d have time enough to figure out that puzzle. Or, so he hoped.

Sinder was glad the field was flat and long, because he was able to locate Mariella and her captor in seconds. Flattening himself against the horse, he sent up a fervent hope that the horse was fast enough to catch them before they reached the woods. He had no way of knowing if the men who’d retreated into them had kept going, or if some remained hidden in the hopes of grabbing some of their fallen.

His horse was breathing hard by the time he caught up to them, but it was worth it when Sinder noticed the horse in front of him began to tire under the doubled weight, slowing down more with each second. Sinder urged his horse faster. “Stay with me, beauty.”

His hope surged when his horse’s muzzle lined up with the other’s hindquarters.

“Mariella, get ready!” Sinder shouted over the thundering hooves.

The man holding her sent Sinder a wild look through the curtain of his shaggy brown hair, obviously judging the wisdom of continuing with his prize over making a clean getaway. Self-preservation won out, and he grabbed Mariella’s shoulders and started to push her off the horse.

She screamed, fighting him off, no doubt in fear that she’d be trampled to death.

Sinder drew alongside them, calling out to the man desperately trying to save his own skin now. “Give her to me and I will not pursue you!”

His heart already thumping dangerously fast, Sinder reached out for Mariella, knowing if the other rider decided to kill her, he could simply wrench the horse away and then push her off.

“Fine! Take the wench!” The Outbounder finally yelled, and lifted Mariella’s slight frame up just enough for Sinder to grab onto her and pull her in front of him.

He had to scramble to pull up on the reins in time to avoid entering the woods, using his strength to keep Mariella in the saddle with him. But the sudden stop caused his horse to slam into the backside of the other horse, unseating the Outbounder. The desperate outlaw fell backward but was able to break his fall with a rolling motion. Scrambling to his feet, he charged Sinder’s horse and Sinder drew his dagger, swiping at him to keep him at a distance.

Sinder knew it was a mistake once he’d landed on his arse and sat watching the Princess Mariella riding off on the frightened horse. At least she had gotten away. He stood up and turned, ready to battle his opponent, only to find the man had been replaced by another, more familiar face.

“Adam.”

“Hello, brother.” Adam sneered. “What a surprise meeting you here. I thought for sure you’d be at home, mourning the loss of dear old William.”

Ignoring his taunt, Sinder looked his brother over, noting the simple grey clothing and the longer length of his hair. Quite a step down from the usual care he took with his appearance. But there were other changes, too, that were not necessarily bad. “Your face is looking much smoother, brother. It seems the outlaw life suits you.”

“Yes, well, it turns out that the lotion your apprentice’s fool of a woman was making me wasn’t as good for my skin as she let on,” he snarled. “All your doing, I’m sure.”

Shaking his head, Sinder denied he’d had any part in it.

“It doesn’t matter, now, anyway,” Adam said. “And besides, I got my revenge.” His expression grew pensive. “Although, I was hoping to take even more from you today. Getting rid of grandfather was just too easy. It took all the fun out of it for me.”

A high-pitched ringing started in Sinder’s ears, and he felt like the ground was shaking underneath him. A quick glance back confirmed that Mariella was still struggling with gaining control of the horse several hundred yards away. So, it must be the rage inside him, looking for a way out.

“Yes, she was part of what we intended to take,” Adam said, misconstruing Sinder’s searching look. “But I know that it’s the elder sister that has your particular interest.” Like the fool that he was, Adam stepped closer toward him. “And I plan to take her from you.”

The ringing in Sinder’s ears drowned out most of Adam’s terrified scream as he yanked him by the scruff of the neck and drew him closer. “You’d do well to listen carefully to what I’m about to say. I owe you nothing, brother, for that is exactly what you and Garrett did for me all the years our stepmother tormented me. And you are a fool if you think I would let you live over keeping the woman I love safe from your clutches. Now, although I long to avenge Grandfather, it is because of his honor and wishes that I not send you to your maker, today. But my restraint has limits.” He shook his brother, who looked about to weep, his legs dangling uselessly underneath him. “Do you hear me?” Sinder roared, shaking him again simply because it felt good.

“Y-yes...I-I understand!” Adam squeaked.

“Good,” Sinder said, bringing his legs back into contact with the ground. “Because I won’t tell you again. Now, go.”

He released his brother’s neck and turned away in disgust when a movement from the trees alerted him that they weren’t alone.

Adam let out a maniacal laugh and disappeared into the woods, even as Sinder stared down the God of Death.

Or, at least, those were his thoughts while watching the metal tip of an arrow soar towards him.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Prin

“I don’t care what you do,” Prin shouted, her patience finally disintegrating. “The thieves’ horse has already returned, and we’ve not seen or heard anything from Sinder or my sister. I’m going after them.” And just as she prepared to hit her best friend over the head with the hilt of her sword, a guard yelled out from the top of the castle wall, “It’s the Princess Mariella! She’s back!”

Relief over her sister’s return quickly turned into dread when nothing more was mentioned. What about the man who’d risked his life to save her?

“Easy, Prin,” Philippe warned, laying a hand on her shoulder. “He doesn’t know the duke, nor would he likely care about him even if he knew who he was. It’s Mariella that our people are concerned for.”

Prin recognized the truth in his words, but still resented the lack of information. Her head snapped toward the field, her eyes straining to see who was on the horse that was thundering toward them at breakneck speed. A sob escaped when she caught sight of Sinder’s large form sitting upright behind Mari.

Usami moved in close just in time to catch her. “I trained him into a very hard man to kill, my onna-musha. You will have many days and nights together; this I can promise you.”

Blinking back tears, Prin laid her head on Usami’s shoulder. “If you only knew how much I’ve missed you.”

He patted her back and gestured toward Yuuto, who had joined them despite having a rare day off from training. “Let the Princess Mariella’s maids know that she has returned and will require a bath. And tell Gates to personally ensure Princess Henrietta does, as well.”

Yuuto bowed and took off toward the side entrance.

Prin started to protest, but then forgot why when Sinder and Mariella reached them at last. She waited impatiently as Mari was handed down and into the arms of her mother and father first, before it was her turn and they both collapsed into each other’s tearful embrace.

Drawing back to stare into her sister’s face, Prin grew alarmed when she saw blood. “Mari, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s not mine,” Mari said cheerfully.

Prin’s legs threatened to buckle again, but she forced them to remain upright, impatient with her body’s uncharacteristic reactions. She located Sinder, who was talking with Usami and Philippe, her father having obviously just walked away from the group.

She gasped when she saw the amount of blood trailing from under one of his eyes and ending in a dark stain on his tunic that reached his chest. “Sinder!” she cried, not caring at the impropriety of addressing the duke so informally.

He raised his head and smiled, the dried blood cracking along the lines of his face. He’d never looked more handsome.

Prin wanted nothing more than to go to him and throw her arms around him, but Philippe was frowning at her. When she noticed there were still several guards surrounding them, Prin knew there were too many curious eyes to warrant making such a scene. As much as she may wish, at times, that she were free to do as she wished, she was beginning to understand that her actions represented something far bigger than herself.

She contented herself with smiling back and mouthing ‘thank you.’

Sinder nodded his head and winced.

Prin’s eyes narrowed. She would get him alone very soon and discover the extent of his injuries. Let any person here tell her she couldn’t.

“Come on, dearest,” her mother said, wrapping an arm around Prin’s shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We are all starving.” She stopped just as they entered the castle and looked above Prin’s head. “Oh, Henrietta, I’m so sorry,” she said.

Prin frowned and looked up. “What is it, Mother?”

“Your beautiful crown. It’s gone.”

After a moment of silence, Prin gave in to the overwhelming feelings she’d been holding back and laid her head on her mother’s shoulder, sobbing until her eyes hurt.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

Sinder

Bowing to the king and queen, Sinder lifted the princess’s hand to his lips before placing a kiss across her silken skin. “I believe this is my dance, Princess Charmant,” he said formally.

Prin giggled, threatening his composure for he dearly wanted to kiss her senseless. “Yes, Your Grace, I believe you are correct. Shall we?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he returned smoothly, leading her out to the floor of the ballroom.

Her golden skirts swirled around his legs, and Sinder looked down into the smiling face of the woman he cared for so much it frightened him. A lot had changed since the last time he’d swung her around this dance floor.

“Well, it should really be at my pleasure, don’t you think?” she batted her lashes at him.

He loved this playful side of her. Pretending to consider it, he tilted his head. “And why is that, Princess?”

“Oh, I just think it’s the least you could do...considering you scared off all my other suitors.”

They both got lost in the steps of the dance and so it was several moments before Sinder replied. “As Usami told me when he delivered the good news of your ungallant defectors, “That which is easy to lose, is—”

“Never the one to choose,” the princess finished. They shared a grin.

“I still cannot believe that you and I were both trained by Usami.” He shook his head and searched out his friend, who was deep in conversation with Philippe.

“And at the urging of our families!”

Sinder thought back to the dinner they’d all had the evening of the Outbounder attack. When he’d entered the dining room after washing up in a guest room and borrowing a change of clothes from the king, Sinder had been besieged by the royal couple. They’d showed him a picture hanging in their dining room that they said was inspired by his mother.

“I met Gwenevieve after hearing the king rave about her equestrian skills when he’d returned from a hunt,” the queen had begun. “We became friends, and when we discovered we had similarly aged children, we vowed to betroth you two. Unfortunately, your mother died before we could present the notion to your father, or even to introduce the two of you to one another. And then he wed Leonora and that vicious harpy started with her rumors. The king and I were livid, but with Lord Cowper so willing to back her story, we dared not make too big an issue of it. Your grandfather begged us to wait for the right moment to expose her, and so we did. Our only regret was how much suffering it caused you, Sinder.”

He'd shaken his head. “I had my grandparents, Usami, Yuuto, and Gus, which was more than what Leonora or either of my brothers had.” He turned toward the painting, “And, of course, I had her watching over me.”

The princess, who’d been quiet during the retelling, smiled at the beautiful horsewoman. “I’ve always felt a special bond with the lady from the painting. Now, I know why.”

His heart, already fair to bursting, had cracked wide open in that moment. There was no use fighting it. He was hers. And she was his. The rest of the evening had been spent in camaraderie, and he’d felt welcomed by her family in a way he never thought possible.

Prin’s voice broke through his thoughts, returning him to the present. “And then she said, ‘I think purple hair is the perfect way to catch a man’s attention.’”

Sinder blinked. “I’m sorry, Princess, but what did you say? I thought I heard something about purple hair?”

She giggled and rapped his arm. “I supposed it’s a good thing—you not being overly impressed by my royal beauty.”

“Oh, I’m impressed,” he corrected. “Which is exactly why I’m often mutton-headed around you.”

“Before I was teasing you, I asked if you’d found out from Usami why he was asked to teach us both, and why they all kept it a secret until now?”

Chuckling, Sinder answered, “He said it was your mother’s idea after hearing about the headway Usami was making with me. I was resentful and withdrawn after both of my parents were gone, things Usami was able to redirect while I healed. And...the queen told him she was losing sleep over your ‘lack of interest in anything remotely ladylike, except for dancing and painting.’” He looked down at her smiling face. “Which, I would really like to see evidence of the latter one day soon.”

“Of course, but I warn you—everything else fades away when I paint. It has long been my escape from things that trouble me. Which is why I often forget to worry about things like paint smudges.” She wrinkled her nose.

“That is how I feel about forging. Sometimes, I get lost in the flames, and other times, I like the physical strain of pounding the metal into whatever shape I want it to be. And if you can accept the bits of ash and occasional singed hairs and skin that comes along with it, then you can be certain to never hear a word from me about a few smudges of paint.”

The look she gave him made Sinder wish everyone in the ballroom would disappear. He contented himself with holding her tighter. There was something else that had occurred to him, and he hoped it wasn’t too sentimental to bring up. “But I think our families knew it would be like this. They gave each of us a best friend who would always have these peculiarities, these secret parts of us, that only we could appreciate,” he said finally.

She sighed. “You don’t know how happy you make me.”

“If it’s half as happy as you make me, then I’m afraid I have to disagree with you, Princess Charmant.”

“Disagree with me, a princess? You are a bold one.”

“If you take two steps to the right, I’ll show you just how bold I am.”

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Prin

Prin turned her head. Sinder had spun them close to a balcony that she knew was used by many couples to escalate their courtship. Her maids had whispered about it while her parents had strictly forbidden her from stepping foot on it with a partner. But it was her ball, and she was about to be declared the future ruler. She needn’t abide by such childish rules.

Her breath hitched and she nodded, not trusting her voice with the nerves closing in.

“Lead the way.”

His eyes flashed and an answering flicker of excitement trailed along her skin.

She barely made it into the fresh air before Sinder backed her against the railing with his arms around her and his lips gently trailing across hers. “I’ve waited ages to do this again,” he murmured against her mouth.

Tiny shocks were searing themselves into her skin from where their mouths met down to where their bodies cradled one another’s, leaving Prin breathless.

A gentle cough interrupted their stolen moment.

Breaking apart guiltily, Prin sighed with relief when she saw a grinning Yuuto standing at the doorway, a blue velvet-wrapped object in his hands.

“I have brought you what you requested.”

“Thank you, Yuuto,” Sinder said, taking the package and patting the boy’s shoulder with affection. “Usami tells me you the two of you are going back to your fishing village to give your father a report on your training.”

“Yes, I am very excited to see my home again.”

“I’m happy to hear it. Please convey my best wishes to your family. And thank you, Yuuto, for bringing me this very important package.”

Yuuto bowed before grinning and leaving as quietly as he’d arrived.

“He’s very sweet. But what’s this talk of important packages?” Prin asked, peeking curiously at the velvet.

“I was told that you were cross with me the day you left my forge with your family.”

Her face flushed, and Prin placed her hands against his chest, nearly distracting him from his purpose. “I’m sorry. I was just unsure of how you felt, and when you didn’t ask me to stay that evening...I thought you weren’t as interested in me as I was in you.”

“And I cannot imagine how you could ever think such a thing would be possible,” he protested before growing thoughtful. “In truth, I suppose I can. Imagine it, that is. It explains why I didn’t ask you to stay or even when I could see you again.” He looked out over the castle grounds, watching the flames of the torches flickering in the darkness. “I was certain your family would see what I’d known all along.”

“And what was that?” She asked, leaning into him.

He wrapped an arm around her. “That you were always going to be Henrietta Charmant, Princess of Castlelore, while I was always going to be Sinder St. Ayers, the bastard of Ellacourt.”

“But you’re not!” She protested.

“Yes, but it hadn’t been long since I’d discovered that. I hadn’t even realized how deeply Leonora and my brother’s poison had reached until then. And then your mother helped me see that I could be reborn.”

“My mother did? How?”

He kissed her lips and then leaned back, handing her the velvet package.

Prin unfolded it, gasping when she saw its contents.

“She asked me if I’d make her daughter, the Princess of Castlelore, a crown for the first day of her upcoming Ascension Festival. One that would speak of both her strength and beauty. She left some fabric from your dress, and I forged the crown based upon that...and what I knew of your personality. Of course, if I had known you as well as I do know, then I would have used a lot more iron,” he teased.

“So, this is what you were doing those few days after the fire and your grandfather—” she stopped as tears gathered, blurring her vision.

“Yes, and it was why I was at the market the first day we had a run-in with the shadow kingdom.”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “But thank you, it’s absolutely stunning.”

“It had to be; it was for you.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

The engraving inside caught her eye, and she smiled up at him. “Y-L-H?”

Sinder shifted before his eyes locked on hers. “‘Your loving husband.’ It was in case we ended here, although I wasn’t always sure we would.”

Prin nodded, too overcome to answer. She swiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. “Would you help me put it on?”

“Every day of our lives, if you’ll have me.”

“I dare you to try to get away.”

“Are you sure? I’m trained in many different ways to ensure I get exactly what I want.” He snuck in a kiss.

She smiled against his lips. “Funny, so am I.”

The clock in the ballroom chimed the first stroke of midnight and Prin sighed. It was time to make their announcement. “You don’t know how happy I am that I found you, Sinder St. Ayers. You have saved me from a life filled with inane conversations and many dinners of having to hide my paint-stained fingers in hopes to avoid yet another silly argument.”

Sinder’s lips clung to hers. “And you don’t know how lucky I feel to have found my purpose at last—one that gave me the strength to rise from the ashes of my old life and forge a new one that I know will bring great joy to not only us, but to our people.”

A few more chimes warned Prin they would soon be sought out. “We have a great many things to offer our kingdoms, and the people of Gailleth. One of which, I hope, will allow us to unite them while ridding ourselves of those who want to destroy the peace of our land.”

“And I will be there to protect you—to act as a shield, or to fight at your back, and to rule by your side.”

“And I, at yours.”

The final chime rang through the ballroom just as Prin and Sinder made their way inside. Squeezing through the crowd that had gathered, they took their places beside the king and queen. With radiant smiles, they turned to address their people, who cheered when the announcement was made.

Sinder St. Ayers, the Duke of Ellacourt, and Henrietta Charmant, the Princess of Castlelore, would one day rule, and all would be prosperous.

But in a land not that far away...another ruler was crowned (although the cheers were not nearly so loud).

Still, Leonora faced her new subjects with a benevolent grin. And so, you see, the next story begins...

Author’s Note

This story is the first book in the Gailleth Realms series. Expect the next two installments, Philippe and Wulfe, in 2026.

I hope you enjoyed Sinder and Prin’s love story. Although they have resolved the barriers that blocked their path to each other, their good friends Philippe, Aurelia, Wulfe, and Crimson have yet to begin their journeys. Originally, I planned to release Philippe and Aurelia’s story in 2024, but the project was put on hold for familial responsibilities. You can expect Philippe in early 2026 and Wulfe to follow a few short months after.

To stay informed about upcoming projects, visit my website at www.rosewalken.com and sign up for my newsletter. Please share a comment or review and let me know your thoughts about the story. It makes my day each time I hear from one of you!

With love,

Rose