If It Were Worth It: Part One; Chapter One

Chapter One

If it were worth it, I would have reached further. I would have let my hand slip into yours. I wouldn't have let go, wouldn't have said good-bye. I would've hung on longer for the sake of our lives.

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   The air was cold on the balcony. I mean, sure, it was almost winter, but heavens, it could've at least been a little warmer.

     Pulling my shawl just a little more up my shoulders, I turned away from the marble railing and snowy grounds below to walk back into my room. Pristine white, blood red, and silver lined the furniture, bedpost, walls, and even the gowns that hung off to the side. It was rehearsal day for the coronation, which, if I have my dates right, should be two weeks out. No one tells me anything in these palace walls. It's almost infuriating, if I didn't have to remind myself that it's because of my gender.

     The room was empty, devoid of any hands or maids. I didn't want help dressing myself; I could do it much faster alone than with ten hands probing at my body over a corset and my hair. The issue was deciding which outfit was better. Obviously, dressing up to be exposed and flashy was not on my list of things to do to upset my mother. She would already be mad enough that someone like me was handling things alone. But she didn't truly understand, I didn't have time for all her nonsense on how to be a "proper" lady. A "proper" princess. There is no authorized rulebook on how these things need to be done. Only how they should be, and I much prefer the latter.

     Sighing, I reached for the first gown closest to me. Black and blue. The opposite of our kingdom's colors, but still a gorgeous dress in itself. It has a corset around its waist, a V-shape into the skirt which flared out beautifully with gems and pearls. Its sleeves were a simple fleece. Light, flaring just off the elbow, then tailored at the ends with black lace. It would cover everything that I wanted to be covered.

     Taking the dress, I made my way to the dressing area. It's nothing but a fold out wall with a few mirrors and a circular podium in the center. Standing up onto the podium, I got a look at myself in one of the mirrors. Dark brown hair falling in waves down my back, paired with pale skin, a light dust of freckles and blue eyes. The kingdom's beauty. I sighed again, running a hand over my abdomen, feeling the green silk of the nightgown I currently wore. I wish I wasn't like . . . me.

     I changed in silence, zipper after zipper. I had the dress on in maybe five minutes at least. I stared at the mirror again, holding the black ribbons of the corset. I pulled them tight, listening to the soft zip of the fabric pulling taut. I watched my waist sink in, my breasts push up. I tied the ribbon, stepping off the podium now. I don't have time to ogle myself. It just wasn't worth it.

     The next thing I did was sit in front of my vanity mirror, brushing my hair out. The soft waves flowed down my shoulder and collar bone. I hummed to myself. I didn't need to think about it to do it, my hand just moved on its own without thought. Up and down, root to end. . I pulled a few strands back, tying it into a bow. Half-up, half-down. Simple enough.

     Lastly, I picked up the gloss and applied some to my lips. They were already plush and pink in shade, so lipstick would only make me look like I was trying too hard. Besides, people already think I try too hard to impress the King and Queen. Father and Mother. Good heavens, it's hard to think Father is gone . . .

     I shake my head. No, no, I can't think like that. It wouldn't be fair. Mother is stepping down from the throne. It's my turn. I can't run just because he is gone. That'd be such a foolish move, a stupid decision. I lift my head up, eyes straight on my reflection. I can't stop living. It's my job to keep this kingdom alive now. So, I must.

     Leaving my room felt like fighting a dragon. Well, not literally. Dragons do exist, but I'm not actually fighting one. My mind is fighting me, telling me to remain in the safety of my room. If I step into the hall, every turn leads to some mourning portrait or worse and I can't stand it. Walking through the halls is worse. Everything was decked in black, my fathers face blocked out of every photo. So, I kept my eyes straight. The bells chimed. I have fifteen minutes.

     Only a few people would be attending this event, such as Mother, a Pastor, my lady-in-waiting, and a few others.. It's minor, since it's not the actual coronation, but it's important to me. The rehearsal is being held in the Second Throne Room. That one is smaller than the first, typically held for political meetings. Father used it often to host meetings discussing border controls and trades with neighboring countries. I was never allowed to attend one. Not even to observe.

     Father was always fully set on the fact that a man needed to run and govern the kingdom. I find it really unfair. A woman can run a country by herself, though I can't help but acknowledge the fact that I'm under-educated and not quite fit for the throne. However, I refuse to let that drag me down. I'm the Crown Princess. This is my position, and I won't let my gender remove it from my hands.

     Passing the garden corridor, I pause to lift my head and look. Everything is dead, since it is late fall, early winter. We had our first snow fall nearly four weeks ago. Around the same time Father died. I sigh, watching as a servant walks past. She wears typical clothing for a cleaner. A black gown with a green apron. Her sleeves are long, covering her arms to prevent cuts or chemical reactions. Her dark, black hair is tied back in a bun, out of her face. She does a small curtsy when she notices me, then rushes back to her task. I hum.

     Under Aerulynian tradition, it's common to mourn the loss of a King for three weeks. At least a month. The Queen dresses in black, covering her face. She is not to be seen. Once the King is gone, the Queen steps down. It's not that she has a choice. She can't remarry, it's against our laws for a Queen to remarry to remain in power.

     However, if she were related to the crown by blood, then that's a different story. She'd be allowed to keep her position. But she was married in. And since our Kingdom has just exited the mourning stage, it's time for her to step down.

     I keep walking, slow and steady. If I had more time, maybe I would have dressed a little warmer and traveled into the training grounds. At this time, they're empty, since our knights don't typically train in the cold. They will during the night, but not during the mornings. Why? I'll never know. My tutors deemed that information unnecessary for me to know. Now that I think about it, there is a lot that they told me I didn't need to know.

     I didn't need to know about politics unless our borders were in danger. Then I had to know what to do for our land. I didn't need to know about war or how to operate through it. That information is for a Prince or a King. I believe I also wasn't allowed to know about the Magic that runs through the Eastern grounds or the Dragons that travel through the west. Nor was I allowed to know about the healers in the South or the warriors in the North. It wasn't necessary . . . But I was meant to know how to address them and welcome them into the Kingdom of Aerulyna.

     The bells chimed again. This walk here felt like it went by quickly. It didn't. I was walking for well over ten minutes before now. I have half the mind to run. To turn and leave. I can't. I have to do this. No matter what my mind tells me is going to happen. If I want this crown so badly, I have to attend this rehearsal, or Mother will find some Prince to marry me off to so that we have a King.

     I hold my breath as I push open the doors. There's silence, the pastor stands at the top of the steps, a bible in his hand. I slowly walk down the aisle. I can't help but feel silly. I feel like a bride with no groom. I remind myself that I don't need one. Right? 'You don't need a husband to rule', I think to myself.

     I exhale slowly as I step closer. I'm eventually guided into a crouch at the first step, the skirts of my dress flowing out around me. I let my knees touch the carpet. It's soft and cold. I could see every speck of dirt if I wanted to look closely enough.

     The pastor shuffles across to stand beside Mother. He flips to a page in his bible, then he speaks.

     "Against the freezing tides of the Northern sea, our crowned have saved us time and time again. Keeping us safe from those who wish to steal our land . . ."

     I drown him out with the inner voices my head gives me. I can pay attention during the coronation, but now I just have to breathe. I let my eyes close, my left hand resting against my chest, my right at my side.

     Mother is dressed in all black, a silver tiara upon her head, a black veil covering her face. She truly did love Father. It's a shame he left her so soon. I, however, will not miss him.

     Father wanted a son. Yet, Mother got sick after her pregnancy with me, and she lost her fertility. He was livid, always looking down on me, always telling me I can't do things. A part of me wants to think that, maybe if I were a boy, he would have genuinely loved me.

     But never once did I hear that man say he was proud of me.

     He gave me tutors who withheld information from me. He forced me to stay within the palace walls. I wasn't allowed in meetings, I wasn't allowed to observe. If Mother cared at all for how he treated me, she didn't show it. In fact, I think she went along with it most of the time.

     All I want is to prove them wrong. That a woman can lead, that I can treat my people with the respect and kindness they deserve. I want to build them cities as grand as Farahei, towns as intricately cultured as Heinsenfurrow. I can learn on the go—I can do it.

     I just need—

     "I'm not crowning her," Mother's voice suddenly rings out. It's bitter. I can imagine it tastes like regret on her tongue.

     "I . . . Your Majesty, I don't believe—" The pastor is cut off.

     "She's unwed! She's twenty-three and unwed, I will not crown her." Mother retorts.

     Slowly, I stand. Thank the heavens this is happening here and not at the actual thing. "Mother, please." I say lightly, lifting my hands. She swats them away.

     "Don't touch me." She mumbles, stepping back.

     "Mother," I start.

     "Don't 'Mother' me! You need to do things right, Xaria! This isn't right."

     I sigh, resting one hand on my hip, the other rubbing slow circles over my temple. It's a poor attempt to ease the headache that has begun to form. "Then pray tell, Mother, how do I do this right?" I press.

     She's silent for a moment. Through the veil, I catch remorse settling in her eyes. "Get married." She says then.

     "Oh, for—" I pause, catch myself and bite my tongue. "Mother, I do not have time to get married; the coronation is in two weeks."

     "If you want the crown, get married, Xaria. I will not crown you if I do not see a Prince by your side." She says.

     She reaches out, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away from my head. Mother was always so gentle, but stubborn all the same.

     "Mother, please." I'm trying to negotiate. There is no point.

     "You heard me, child. Get a Prince first. Hey, I'll make it easier. Just get a Prince who's willing to marry you, a proper one. We'll do the coronation, and then the wedding," she offers.

     My brows furrow. "Why are you so set on a wedding?"

     She sighs, then looks away. She glances at the pastor, then back to me, her arms crossing over her chest. "I just want to see my baby girl walk down the aisle . . . and it's what your father would have wanted."

     I tense up, feeling each of my muscles coil tight. I say nothing, then, "it's always about Father. What he wanted, what he expected."

     When she says nothing, I hold my breath. Then I turn. "Fine. I'll get married . . ."

     Then I start the long, cold trek back to my wing.

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     This was harder than I thought.

     It's been maybe five days since that failed coronation, and I've done nothing but sit here and look at paper after paper of good for nothing Prince's. There isn't any one of these men that I would even think of tolerating, let alone marrying. Gods, I've really done it now.

     I let myself sigh, flipping through yet another paper. A prince from the East, another from the South. Gods, so what if they slayed a dragon, none of them are fit to rule a kingdom like Mother wants.

     My thoughts are eventually interrupted by a knock on my door.

     "Make it quick." I say, not bothering to look away from my task. The wooden door creaks open, shutting with a thud.

     "Her majesty wishes for you to dine with her this evening, Princess." The familiar voice of my lady-in-waiting says.

     "Lord," I pinch the bridge of my nose. "She never talks to me, let alone dines with me. Have I done something to upset her?" I press.

     "Her majesty is concerned about . . . your lack of choice in a Prince." She says carefully.

     "Tell her I'm trying! There is only so much I can do. A royal wedding doesn't just happen in a day, Rayla." I say then.

     She nods. I watch in the mirror as she steps behind me, her hands carefully running through my dark hair. "If it helps, I think the Prince from the Northern Border is nice." She tries.

     I sigh again. "Please, I'm not trying to set myself up with some 'Bad Boy'. We know that the Northerner's are brutes."

     She looks away. "The Prince from the South?"

     I glance up at her. "Rayla, he doesn't even speak our language! I don't want a translator when I marry a man."

     She leans down, pressing her chin to the tip of my head. I let her. "You can't be so picky if you want to be Queen. There are plenty of Princes. If you grab one from a neighboring kingdom, they might be open to making you an Empress." She offers.

     I flip through the papers again. Then groan in irritation. "Fine. Fine, Rayla. You go through the papers and set something up." I turn and stand, glancing at her. She jumps up and down, suddenly squealing.

     Her arms fly out, and before I can think, I'm being embraced. I tense up before letting it happen, then hesitantly pat her shoulder. It's not often I'm hugged, but then again, Rayla is my best friend. We've known each other since our early youth. I can't just not embrace her back.

     "Oh, Xaria! You won't regret this! I promise!" She squeals. I merely nod.

     "I hope not." I mutter.

     She pulls away suddenly then, her hands on my shoulders. "Okay! Okay, you have to go to dinner now! Ah, I can't wait!"

     I sigh for a third time before turning to face the door, leaving her be. I won't enjoy this. I know I won't. But if she thinks setting up a small date with a Prince will work, then so be it. Clearly, me running through their papers is doing little to help.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦

     Two weeks. It took her two weeks to convince any Prince to even step foot into the Kingdom of Aerulyna long enough to even visit. Which left me where I currently am.

     Rayla helped me dress into something simple. A white and green gown that's plain in design. Light and comfortable. The sleeves fall off my shoulders and are puffy and white. They curve back in at my wrists with tiny bows on the sides. For decoration, I have a brown, leather corset around my waist, tied loosely in the back. I don't need to wear them overly tight. I'm not trying to show anything off.

     My hair is tied back in a loose braid, a green ribbon pulled intricately through the strands and tied off at the end. My curtain bangs fall into my face, but that's okay. I can deal with it. Rayla settles on no makeup, saying something about it being 'too much' for the look. This is meant to just be a little stroll through the town. Nothing more.

     We are interrupted briefly by a knock on the door. Before I can respond, a guard's rough voice speaks.

     "Your majesty, Prince Ryker is waiting." The guard says.

     I stand, brushing invisible dust off of the front of my gown. "Well then, I suppose it's time to get this over with." I say, turning to walk out the door. Rayla catches my wrist before I can leave, fully.

     "Xaria, please." She says softly. I look over my shoulder at her. "Try to be nice." She finishes with a smile. I hesitate.

     She knows me better than anyone. If I had my choice, I wouldn't be trying to get married. I'd already have my crown. I'd already be making decisions for the sake of Aerulyna, but due to Mother's strict set of rules and expectations, I can't. Not yet. Yet, I refuse to let some man try and take over my throne and my kingdom. That just wouldn't be fair.

     Slowly, I pull my wrist from her hand. "I'll try, Rayla. For you, I will try."

     She nods slightly, dipping her chin down as I make my way out of the room.

     Much like I did for the coronation, I walk down the halls, pictures staring back at me with dead eyes. I try my best to ignore them. The stone of the walls are chilling and cold. If I had my way, I would have changed them already. Yes, the stone is nice and stable, but it's so dark. It's not really my type.

     This side of the castle is so . . . long. It used to be a hall for guests. In the past, maybe a hundred years ago, we used to host grand balls for all of our neighboring countries, and then some. Those who would not make it home until dawn were allowed to stay. I've only ever heard stories of those days. After Father became king, he shut everything down, set up walls across our borders and refused to let anyone in or out. Once he died, Mother re-opened the gates, but only to other royalty. The reason why he did such a thing hasn't been told to me, and my tutor's seemed to think it was unimportant knowledge when I was younger. I thought nothing of it then.

     I find myself walking into the main Throne Room, an open area with pillars that stand tall, carved intricately nearly two millennia ago. This room is white with a red carpet thrown straight down the center, Aerulyna's kingdom emblem hung on two giant banisters that hang on either side of the two thrones. The emblems are that of a canary swept up into the open palms of some invisible god, gold at the seams and red as a base color. The room isn't decorated. Usually we have tables out, flowers around and maybe an orchestra or two. The room is large enough to hold our village and three others, as well as Royal's and Noble's alike.

     I sigh, thinking of how it used to be such a grand room, now destined to collect dust. This Throne Room is the First. Its grand doors lead directly outside into the Palace courtyard, protected by the stone wall where the gates await; a simple path that would lead into the village below.

     As I reach the steps that go down to the carpet set on the base floor, I catch sight of Prince Ryker. To me, he isn't as significant as Rayla described. He has medium brown hair, the ends falling past his shoulders. It's all one length, and it's as straight as a needle. His suit is an off putting shade of gray, making him appear dull, but it brings out the tan of his skin. He wears a cloak of velvet, the purple shining like silk in the lighting. It sits on his left shoulder, a silver chain keeping it strung across his right. He wears white gloves, his gaze off somewhere else. He doesn't even glance at me.

     I take the first step down, the marble clicking softly under my shoes, which seems to catch his attention. His gaze flicks up to meet mine, his eyes being the only remarkable thing about him. They're an interesting shade of green. It's as if they hold the whole forest within them. It's almost mesmerizing.

     "Princess Xaria, a pleasure to meet you." He speaks, a smile adorning his face, which reveals a dimple on the right side. I tilt my head.

     "The pleasure is mine. I apologize if this event burdens your schedule." I say, careful of my choice of words. Finally, my feet meet the final step.

     "I assure you, it is not an issue." He says lightly, holding one hand out while the other remains against his chest.

     I don't take it.

     "Then please, let's continue with the plan set." I say, not sparing him a second glance as I walk past him. My job is not to fall in love, it's to find a proper Prince that fits Mothers approval. That's it. I can't get distracted, that would ruin what I'm trying to do.

     He falters for a moment, seemingly surprised by my action. His fingers close, drawing to his chest as he stands up straighter. Then he turns, following after me. His velvet cape swishes behind him with each step. I ignore the sound.

     He comes to stand by my side and I realize I just barely make it past his shoulders. What is with Prince's and their height? It's irritating. He adjusts his stance, offering his arm but I keep my hands folded in front of me. He seems to take the hint and he relaxes, just for a moment.

     As the guards open the doors, I find that there are two horses waiting in the courtyard. Both are saddled and reigned. I bite my tongue. One horse is a beautiful mare. Her coat was completely white, her mane and tail trimmed to perfection. The other an appaloosa, his coat a set of black, white and brown spots.

     I shift, letting my gaze drop. "If I had known we'd be horseback, I would've chosen a better wardrobe for the day."

     He chuckles. The sound is light. Sweet. . . "Do not fret about your outfit, your majesty, we won't be sprinting today. It's just a stroll." He offers the words with a tone that speaks wonders. But I do not need comfort.

     I don't give him a response as I walk close to the appaloosa. The horse is truly beautiful. I hum as I run my hand down his snout. "Do either of them have names?" I ask no one in particular.

     He pauses in front of the mare. "This beauty is named Quincy. She's from my brother's stable. However, your appaloosa came from your own stables." He raises a brow, glancing in my direction. "I would think you would know the name of your own Colt."

     "I never took to riding. That was Father's thing. He would take me for rides in my youth, but it just never stuck." I say, locking our gazes together.

     We seem to hold there for a moment, silence engulfing us. I'm the one who breaks away first, looking towards the saddle. That will be quite difficult to mount in a gown. It doesn't stop me from trying.

     Bracing my hands on the saddle, I speak. "We should continue on our—" My words cut off as I squealed instead. His hands have grabbed my waist, effortlessly lifting me and settling me onto the saddle. I shift just enough to look down at him, his hands making adjustments on my skirt to make sure it lays right. He looks up to catch my glare and he chuckles.

     "Oh, come on, don't tell me a little help was too much for you, Princess." He says, tilting his head.

     "You could've at least warned me before you acted on impulse. Not every Princess needs help." I retort, looking away. He pulls his hands back.

     "Right."

     I decide it's best to ignore his antics at this moment.

     He mounts his own horse with little struggle, the reins fitting perfectly into his hands. He's interesting, that's for sure, but he isn't the kind of man I would typically find interest in. He has this boyish style, and it's too childish for a King. He would have to mature significantly before I—

     Rayla's words suddenly ring in my head. "Try to be nice." Right . . . Three days before this event was planned, she even told me to just give it a shot. I close my eyes, letting my frustrations wash over me. Fine. Fine. I can deal with this for a few hours, I'll be fine.

     Our horses start down the cobblestone path, the gates opening with a loud creaking sound. The woods surround us as we start the small decline to the village below. The view here is always the prettiest.

     The sky is clear, the trees standing tall and proud on either side of us. Moss is growing between the cobblestone. The sun shines down through the leaves, illuminating the road and I feel my chest tighten. I can't remember the last time I left the palace gates. I do remember that these woods didn't look like this before. It's like walking through a dream.

     Flowers and vines stretch and lazily reach across the stones, alive and well. Butterflies scatter, fluttering wildly. There isn't much wildlife on this side of the woods, so I doubt I'll see any deer or rabbits, but the insects here truly are something.

     "You like the wilderness?" Ryker's voice asks smoothly. I turn my attention away from a fallen tree covered with moss and look at him.

     His body is faced forward, focused on the path ahead. I sigh. I've noticed that I seem to do that a lot. I should try to break the habit.

     "It's been a while since I've been out." I replied.

     "Shame. You should visit the villages here more often." He looks over his shoulder, his gaze meeting mine. "You're trying to rule these lands and yet, you have no idea what they look like, let alone their issues." He turns back around, facing forward again.

     I scoff. "Are you implying you know my country better than I, Prince Ryker?" I press. He hums.

     "I'm implying that it will be very difficult for you to run as Queen if you don't know the conditions of your own land and people." He corrects.

     I let myself go silent, his words seeping in. He's right. I've been so focused on trying to get the crown that I haven't even thought about how the land might be. I focus my attention on the golden lining of my saddle, instead. A distraction from the unwelcome thought.

     "We have not been at war for nearly six decades. I'm sure the towns have rebuilt fine." I say lightly.

     "Princess Xaria, it isn't the town's I'd be worried about. Have you even travelled to the cities? Have you seen their conditions?" He presses. He looks back over his shoulder again, his brows furrowing.

     "I have not." I hesitantly admit.

     "Dear god, Princess . . ." He mutters, rubbing his temple as he looks at the cobblestone path in front of us.

     Silence fills the air. The only things I've been told about the war is the destruction we caused to other Kingdom's. Not what damage was done to us. Once again, my tutors were adamant that the information would be useless to me, and more of use to a King.

     Father was heavily against me trying to visit any place outside of the palace walls. "The ground that peasants walk on is not a place a princess like you should be gracing," he always said.

     Now that I think of it, the last time I openly visited the village below was when I was 16, and I snuck out with one of my friends, who was training to be a knight. At that time, it was dark and no one was around. It won't be like today, where civilians will roam the streets and merchants run their stands. It will be a new experience.

     "I only know what has been taught to me from maps." I say, breaking the silence. He shifts, but doesn't look at me. "Any structures you speak of, any cities, I just . . . I only know of their past. Not their current conditions."

     "Why not?" He asks, turning his head slightly.

     "What my tutors teach me is not your business."

     "It is if you're going to be this dense."

     I tense, my hands freezing on the reigns. "I'm sorry?"

     He tilts his chin up, looking forward still. "A queen needs to be aware of what is happening around her. You know almost nothing and you wish to rule alone. That's quite foolish."

     "You forget who you speak to." I snap. "May I remind you, Prince Ryker, that this is my land, and you are a guest to me. I can just as easily toss you across the border as I let you enter."

     He doesn't speak for a moment. Then, "Right. My apologies, your majesty. I fear I crossed a line."

     "You have," I say bitterly.

     This day won't end well, he's already pushed my buttons enough. A woman can do things without knowing every single thing wrong within the cities and towns of her country. He belittles my education, like I'm a mere bug in his way. If he's here just because he wishes to take Father's throne with no cares about my position, then we'll have a rather large issue.

     I can already tell, a marriage between him and I would never work out.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

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     The village is rather quiet as we enter. People walk silently with their children in tow. Some people stand and speak with Merchants at stands, probably talking about how sales are. Aerulyna hasn't changed its prices or taxes on anything in eons. Everything has remained the same since I was younger. It's made us a large hit for sales amongst other countries.

     It benefits us, in a way. We have several different resources in our land, making us one of the most valuable and richest countries on our continent. It's one of the things I have been warned about since I was younger. Plenty of countries have tried to invade us to get even a speck of land with a mine or some form of forestry. They always fail. Our military is large, the third largest. And thanks to our alliances with the Second and First, it's hard to even plan an attack against us.

     We have dismounted from our horses, resorting to finish our stroll on foot. We decided to take a center street, straight into the market. I keep my hands folded in front of me. He keeps his behind his back. Our walk is silent. For the most part.

     We reach the main square, markets scattered around, merchant stands posted in rows. Children run around, squealing and playing whatever game of cat and mouse this is. My gaze catches on the merchant stand to my left. I manage to wander away from Prince Ryker long enough to speak.

     "What is it you're selling?" I ask gently.

     The woman running the stall is on the older side. Wrinkles decorate her skin, her eyes beady and her hair white. She sits on a stool, a set of needles in her hands and yarn in her lap. It takes her a moment before she glances at me. Then she smiles, warm and bright.

     "Oh, my, I have many things." She says, raising a crooked finger. "I make them all myself."

     I reach for one of the yarn squares, the material soft. It's folded neatly. The colors are blue and white, hints of gray yarn strown through it. Before I can speak, she continues.

     "My husband was very fond of that one. It's nothing more than a shawl, really. But it's good for the drafty winds during the nights." She says, nodding as she focuses back onto her yarn and needles.

     I run my fingers across it, my own sapphire and pearl ring glinting in the sun. Blue . . . It's always been a favorite color of mine.

     "How much for it?" I ask, looking at her.

     "Oh, deary . . . How does two coins sound?" She asks. Coins? That's hardly anything.

     "Gold or Silver?" I ask, pressing the matter. In our currency, Silver coins are much more valuable than Gold. The Gold coins are nothing more than fifty haro's. The Silver is sometimes more than a hundred.

     "The Gold is fine." She says, smiling at herself.

     I let my gaze drop to the creation again. I won't give her two Gold . . . That's practically nothing.

     I reach into my skirt pocket, lifting a small bag of coins. It's common for change pockets to be sewn into noble pockets. Most of us don't carry purses. It's too risky. I untie the pouch regardless, pulling out just about anything my fingers touch. Five Silver coins.

     "Is this good enough?" I ask, holding my palm out. The silver glints in the lighting and her eyes widen.

     "Oh, no, darling, I can't take—"

     "Please," I cut her off. "Please, just take the coins."

     She's so hesitant as she reaches out a shaky hand, her fingers grazing over my palm as she takes the coins.

     "This is too much . . ." She says, running her thumb over the silver.

     "Trust me, miss. I have plenty." I say with a smile, holding the folded shawl to my chest as I take a small bow. "Thank you."

     She waves at me as I walk away. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was walking, and in turn, I accidentally bumped into something, or rather, someone. I wince, looking up to find my gaze locking with Ryker's.

     His hands cup my elbows, steadying me as I stumble back. I keep the shawl clutched closely, my lips parting in shock. His eyes flick back and forth, as if to search me for anything that might be wrong. Then he pulls away, his hands falling behind his back again.

     "My apologies." He says lightly.

     I turn away. "Right . . . It's okay."

     He clears his throat. "Shall we continue on our stroll?" He asks, raising a brow.

     Nodding, I respond. "Let's."

     We walk side by side, but my focus isn't entirely on him. It's elsewhere.

     Children play in the street, rushing back and forth between homes, playing with sticks and toys of all kinds. I can't help but feel jealous. I wish I had that kind of childhood—the freedom to do what I want, when I wanted. It's partially unfair.

     The structure of the homes are fascinating, each made with color and a light air around them. The roads are well made with stone and brick, all gray and green and color. The clothing people wore was nothing like what I see within the palace. There were women wearing brown cloth, white aprons and their hair tied back by ribbons. They wore flat, black shoes and long, thin sleeves, yet despite all of this, they still smile. Even if they look plain, they smile.

     Some bow or curtsy when they see me. It's not uncommon knowledge of who I am, and I can't help but feel a little out of place. Maybe one day, I'll ask Rayla to dress me in plain clothes and we'll sneak into the meadow nearby. It would be fun to see her guards and walls down for a change.

     Ryker is silent for most of the walk as we travel back up the hill. The cobblestone is decorated in the setting sun's rays and I can't help but sigh. I decide to speak first.

     "It's beautiful." I mutter to myself. He glances over at me.

     "Is it?" He sighs, looking away. "Your kingdom has . . . A lot. You should take pride in it."

     "Now that Father is gone, I plan to. I want to see it all, to rebuild what was lost. Aerulyna can return to its former glory if we, if I, just try." I responded.

     He nods. "There is a lot you could do, you just need to learn. I'm not saying you need a king or a prince, Xaria, but I am saying that for the first few months–maybe even years, you will need and want the help."

     I can't help but look away, to distract myself. "Maybe you're right." I hum.

     He nods again, engulfing our moment back into silence.

     Our stroll eventually comes to an end as the sun sets. We stand in front of the palace gates, looking at each other. He moves first, bowing deeply.

     "It was a pleasure to share these hours with you, Princess Xaria." He says. I glance away, staring off into the sunset.

     "Yes. It was, wasn't it?" I keep my voice light, but I can't help but feel tension. This will be the only time I willingly spend time alone with Prince Ryker of the East.

     He stands. "I apologize, again, Princess. I did not mean to step out of line, I—"

     I raise a hand, closing my eyes. "Stop. Just . . . Stop. I don't want to hear it anymore, Ryker. Just let it go, alright?" I try to smile, try to make things a little better.

     He tenses, nodding once. "Yes . . . Of course."

     As I turn to leave, he lowers his bow even more, his hand catching mine. He presses his lips to my knuckles before pulling away.

     "Sleep well tonight, Princess." He says before letting me go, mounting his horse, and riding off into the night.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦

     Sitting at my vanity, my head in my hands, Rayla slowly unravels the braid with care. He's so stupid, and boyish, and immature, and— GOD! I refuse to go on another date with him. I can't, I won't. He crossed several lines by insulting me like that.

     "Was it really that bad? I thought he was charming." Rayla offers.

     "Rayla, he's rude!" I say back, lifting my head to look at her through the mirror. "He called me dense! It really was that bad!"

     She sighs, raking her fingers through the locks. "I can try again, Princess. What if we try the Prince from the West?" She tries.

     I cover my eyes with my palms. "Please, Rayla, just . . . Give it up. I can't do this, they're all just going to treat me like a doll. I don't want to sit here and look pretty. I want to help my people, I—"

     "Xaria, I know you want to help, but look at you. You don't know anything about ruling, King Thaitun died before he could teach you anything, and even then, he was still hoping that Queen Emery would grant him a Prince."

     "Don't remind me!" I shout, slamming my hands down. "For the love of the gods, Rayla! Don't remind me!"

     She tenses. Then slowly, she lowers her hands. "My apologies, your majesty."

     "Leave me." I demand, and she does.

     She bows deeply, then turns on her heels and walks out of my bedroom door. It closes with a soft click behind her.

     The moonlight shines through the curtains of my room, the screen door leading to my balcony open just enough to let in a soft breeze. The air is cool, which is nice since the palace is always hot.

     The silver that shines in dances with the movement of the curtains, and I catch a glimpse of something moving outside. I turn, looking in that direction, but I don't see anything out of the ordinary. A part of me tells me it's nothing. Maybe just a bird who flew a little too close. The other part of me tells me to check it out, but my thoughts remind me that, as a princess, I have no training on how to properly defend myself.

     Granted, I could probably figure it out in the knick of time, but I'm not too keen on the idea of getting a sword through my chest tonight. I've been insulted enough, I don't need to die in a humiliating way as well.

     So, I brush off the uneasy feeling in my stomach and I make my way to the bed. It's plush, the sheets a nice shade of wine red and gold. I don't bother pushing the comforter back, I just lay down on the bed. I let my thoughts run as I stare off at the wall, my cheek pressed against the cool thread of embroidery stitched to the comforter.

     Am I thinking too hard about this? Or is Rayla right? Am I being picky? No, that can't be right. I want to rule my kingdom, it belongs to me. I shouldn't have to bring in a Prince just to get my crown. He'd do nothing but slow me down and correct me on every little thing I do. So what if I don't have proper training or knowledge on how to rule. I can figure it out as time goes on.

     It's really unfair, how mother expects me to marry to a man I barely know, but at least she's letting me take my time first. It's almost relieving, how she lets me ease into it. Still, she does push the matter. She doesn't want to be Queen forever, and that's fine. I just don't understand why she can't trust me.

     The only thing that silences my thoughts is the darkness that engulfs my sight and the heavy tug of exhaustion on my body. Sleep takes over before I can even think of fighting it.