The redheaded animal he had found in the ruins seemed corrupted too. Nothing good ever comes of stubborn green eyes. 

Half an hour with King Thomas and General George had taught Nick more than years of rereading the same three history books in Laneby. Whether it had been the battle of the twins, the rebellion of the magician General, or the thirty-year wool crisis, Kings and Generals were only ever praised for their great accomplishments. No tale had ever mentioned that important strategic plans were discussed over something as ordinary as tea and biscuits.

Seb had the perfect life ahead of him.

He strolled behind the General, still licking the leftover crumbs from between his teeth. That last hazelnut biscuit had been the right amount of sweet with a perfect tinge of bitter. He should ask the King for a job in his kitchen, to learn how to bake those little pieces of heaven himself. And that way he could keep close to wherever the apples and carrots were stored; all the easier to smuggle them to Billy.

They passed a young guard in the same Greenlander uniform as the Captain; the only difference the golden sycamore leaves on his collar: three, just like the King. A Lieutenant. "Has the meeting ended, General?"

"No, keep on patrolling, Stephen. I'm heading to my office while I wait for His Majesty and the young Lord to finish. Documents sadly still don't read and sign themselves."

"I've heard they do in Silvermark."

"Which is why that country is going to ruins."

Behind his back, Nick fiddled with his fingers. As much as he liked finding out about the Silvermarkers and their struggles, he could have been heading back to the stables to take care of Billy.

He had told His Majesty all that had happened in Laneby and had told it again to Seb. Fetching Alex would be a waste of time. She had no new information. As the faster rider, she shouldn't have been there in the first place.

He let out a silent snort. If Alex had left with Abby, then Seb would have been the fool to run after Fox. Katla the magician wouldn't have been so kind to the Crown Prince of The Greenlands, and then there would have been no war left to fight. All King Ariel would have to do to claim the throne was wait for King Thomas to die.

He would have won already.

Was that what he had to settle for? The Captain had explained that Abby had been injured too badly; no Healer would have been able to save her. Still, the Gods had clearly favoured a prince over the sweetest little sister in the world.

Fox's mantra rung truer with every passing moment. It wasn't fair.

The General and the Lieutenant nodded their farewells, each of them heading for the opposite side of the corridor. Busts of Kings made room for paintings of various saluting officers receiving medals.

"Your parents raised you well, Nicolas. You don't talk unless spoken to, and even then you keep your words to a bare minimum." The General opened the door and entered. "The perfect companion while I work."

"I prefer silence too, General."

Nick ambled into the room, ready to spend the time collecting his thoughts. He stopped upon beholding the rows and rows of bookshelves that covered the greater part of the wall by the door. His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. This was every man's dream.

He turned his head to read the titles: A Call to Arms, A Lifetime of War, A Respectable Army, ...

Unlike on the battered wooden plank above his bed in Laneby, the General's books were neatly organised, in alphabetical order. The God of Greed pulled his hand closer, forcing him to touch the golden letters on the spines: Back in Control, Birds in the Night, Breaking the Enemy Line,...

"They're no books for children." The General sighed into his chair and shoved a small stack of papers closer to his chest.

Nick ground his teeth as the God of Wrath slowly climbed out of his hiding hole. People always assumed he was the younger one because he was more than half a head shorter than Seb. "I'm not a child. I turned eleven four moons ago."

The General scribbled frantically, his blue feather quill scratching at the paper. A thin frown had formed on his forehead. "I know the law speaks against me, but I don't consider boys to be men until they've proved themselves in my army. You're eleven. Sign up, and we'll talk again in a few years."

"I'm not a good fighter." Nick shrugged. Right before his birthday, Father had suggested applying to the Military Academy in Sundale, since it entailed learning books by heart and getting paid for it, but a life away from home hadn't appealed to him at all. "And it's too late in the year to become a Cadet. All classes have been going on since the second moon of Spring."

"There's always next year." The General licked his finger and turned the page.

"I'll have a think about it." Nick sat down on the chair in front of him. With a thud, he planted his elbow on the desk and rested his head on the palm of his hand. Even though the words were upside down, he had no trouble reading along.

Suggested pay increases for Serjeants with over five years of experience.

The General ran his finger along the numbers and complex calculations on the paper, his lips pursed into a grim line. "Three hundred and fifty times seven is..."

"Two thousand and four hundred and fifty. There's a mistake there." Nick pointed at the paper. "That three should be a four."

The General looked up, a growl rumbling out of his throat. "I thought you preferred silence."

"Apologies. I heard you counting, thought you needed help." Nick glanced over his shoulder, to the shelves behind him. "Can I borrow one of your books? You won't hear me all afternoon."

"I have an even better idea." The General bent forwards, his hands folded so that the tip of the quill didn't touch the wood of his desk. "There are more suitable books in the library. It's located in the southern wing of the castle. Two stairs up, the third corridor on your right, then walk straight ahead until you see the painting of Lord Colin. It's the first door on your left."

"A library!" Nick blinked his eyes, his chin trembling from excitement. An entire room dedicated to the storage of books. He left his seat and shoved it back under the desk. He bowed. "I will take my leave, General. I don't know anything else about Laneby, so I doubt I'll be needed any further. Enjoy approving those wage increases."

"I'll pass on the message." The General's nostrils flared as he inhaled a sharp breath. "Don't get too carried away. The Lady Alana will be reading there too."

"Lady... Alana." Nick froze to his spot, his hands turning clammy already.

A beauty beyond her years. That was what the merchants in Laneby's tavern had called Princess Alana. With the delicate rose skin of her Ician mother and the deep stare of her father's blue eyes, she forced men—big and small—into the deceitful arms of the Goddess of Lust.

"What did you expect, Nicolas?" The General was back to scribbling notes on the paper. "You're in Sunstone Castle. It's where she lives."

For now. Since every eligible Prince in the Five Kingdoms fought for her hand in marriage, some merchants had claimed that King Thomas was waiting for the right political or economical deal to give his only daughter away. Others had waged money on the recently widowed General to become the lucky man to call her his wife.

Nick paced back and forth through the corridor. No stairs. Haphazardly, he picked a door to see if the stairs had a room of their own; the castle was no ordinary house after all.

Just as his hand touched the cold gold of the handle, the door next to the painting of a large burning city by sunset swung open. Two uniformed men entered, their eyes but glancing over him while they continued chatting about a Cadet named Victor who had fallen asleep while guarding the outer city gate.

Nick slithered through the falling door. It was so strange that his presence in the castle was already perceived as normal, while he barely comprehended what was going on.

At least he had found the stairs, or rather, a spiralling staircase that went on and on. On the steps, figurines slept, ate, and laughed: The God of Sloth, the God of Gluttony, and the Goddess of Kindness.

His fingers itched to turn them around, their heads facing the wall. Then the Gods would know what it was like to be controlled and have no way to defend themselves from a higher power.

He climbed the stairs. Finding the library was more important than holding a grudge against the Gods. They would not allow him to win anyway.

Fifty-six steps and a door later, he entered a hallway that was entirely deserted. He carried on, leaving the first of three corridors behind him.

Against the walls hung gold-plated sconces containing unlit candles in white and green. Here and there, the thin grey carpet bore traces of table legs that had once supported a giant table. The room must be used for banquets or dinner parties with Lords from all over the land. Had Father dined here when he had visited Sundale in Lord Brandon's name?

Nick sighed. He couldn't ask him, not anymore.

He turned into the corridor that was supposed to home the painting of Colin the Brave. His first book on this heavenly soil was within reach. It had to be a special one. Perhaps a history book about this castle. No, a manual on horse grooming and feeding; that would help Billy.

There, behind the knight's harness smirked the bulky Lord with sausage lips. Nick tapped the canvas. "Wish me luck, Lord Colin. You may have faced the Scorian demons in the middle of a maelstrom, but surely you've never read a book in the same room as Princess Alana."

He held his breath and proceeded. With an open mouth, he took in the mountain-high bookcases that contained more books than one person could read in their lifetime. The spiralling rows mimicked the shape of the staircase, going on so high that ladders were needed to reach the majority of the books.

This was what the heavenly halls must look like.

Right in the middle of all that glory laid a girl with long black hair on a pile of pillows. Lady Alana... the Princess. Her fingers flicked through the pages. She was too engrossed in what she was reading to notice him blushing like a simpleton.

Finally the Gods were on his side.

With that long layered dress and diamond tiara, she seemed like she would appreciate a compliment about her beautiful looks. Unlike Alex, whose reaction had been childish. She was a girl, and even though she was mostly in denial about that, it was still the truth. Sundale would teach her that.

He opened his mouth, yet before he could tell her that she was more beautiful than a lily in the moonlight, she glanced up. The words remained stuck behind the giant lump in his throat. Her blue eyes were deeper than the trenches of the Ician Sea.

"Oh, hello, I didn't see you there. You must be one of Seb's friends."

The heat of his cheeks spread to the rest of his body. He bowed. "I-I-I am, Y-Your Majesty."

A laugh, tender but kind, escaped her cherry lips. "Your Majesty is what people call Mama and Papa. You may address me as My Lady."

"I shall, My Lady Princess Alana." He knew all that; what nonsense was he uttering? The God of Sloth was clearly invading his mind, along with his sister, Lust.

She got up from the pillow, still keeping the book in between her fingers as she headed towards him. "On second thought. Since we're going to be friends, why don't you call me Lana?"

"If that would please you, L-Lana." Nick rubbed his sweaty hands against the fabric of his shirt, his heart beating louder than a pack of galloping wild horses. The Princess wanted to be friends. With him.

"And you are... let me guess..." She tapped her fingers on the cover of her book. "Boy. No ginger hair. They've sent you to the library. You must be Nick." She inhaled a breath. "I can call you Nick, can't I? Or do you prefer Nicolas?"

"You can call me anything you want, Lady Lana." He averted his gaze to the floor, allowing the blood to return to his feet. Muttonhead. Puddingbrain. Porktail. He was behaving like all of Alex's favourite insults combined.

"Just Lana." She chuckled. "What do you think of the library, Nick? It's my second favourite place in the castle."

He raised his head, taking in the epic proportions once more. It would be impossible to find the perfect book to read first; there were too many options. "This is like my wildest dreams come true. How can it be only second?"

"Because there's nothing more comfortable than Papa's couch." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing pearl earrings the size of giant raindrops "I was actually trying to find a good book before heading down there. Papa's still in his parlour, isn't he?"

"His Majesty is indeed there, with Lord Sebastian." Soon the King would even be interrogating Alex. If only that would go well...

"Do you want to read this book with me in Papa's office?"

A vein in his neck pulsed hard, threatening to burst as his heart found newer heights. He swallowed a couple of times. This could not be happening. She was not asking him this.

"Come, don't be nervous. I'm sure you'll love it." She pulled his arms from behind his back and tugged him out of the library.

This was all a dream. She could not be holding his sweaty hands. But no matter how often he pinched his own skin, he remained running through Sunstone Castle with the one and only Lady Alana.

A pair of guards were standing outside the King's office, yet the Princess simply greeted them and barged in.

"Don't look at the mess. Papa doesn't let servants in, except to bring in meals and drinks." She snatched handwritten letters from the floor and placed them back on one of the many piles on the desk, right behind a plate with a handful of those hazelnut biscuits.

The God of Gluttony rumbled deep inside his stomach. He wanted one; needed one even. The divine taste of the biscuits smothered the longing to hold Abby one last time.

The Princess grabbed the biscuit on top, then shoved the plate under his nose. "Here. By the time Papa returns, they'll be stale anyway. We might as well eat them."

"Thank you." His hand floated above the biggest biscuit, but he settled on a smaller one instead, not to make him seem greedy.

"Papa's always working on fifty projects simultaneously. He works too hard, but it's the only way to keep up with what's going on in the kingdom."

As he munched on the celestial delight, his eyes wandered back to the desk. Where the plate had been now laid a small rolled up letter, bound with a silver string and a grey sigil of a roaring crowned lion.

That wasn't just Silvermark's coat of arms, but the personal seal of King Ariel.

As the Princess continued explaining why her father was collecting these colossal stacks of documents, Nick brushed his fingers over the wax. His muscles tightened. The God of Greed suggested to pull the string and break the seal so he would find out what the despicable King of Lions had sent to King Thomas that would excuse the killing of dozens of innocent people.

"Is everything alright, Nick?"

He slid his hands into his pockets. "Yes, all good. I'm fine."

She bit her upper lip as she glanced at the book that was still pressed between her fingers. "Given the circumstances, this might not be a good book for you. Maybe you'll like a more boyish book?"

"It doesn't matter." The lack of books in Laneby had not allowed him to be picky. "I'm fine with whatever you wish to read, Lady Lana."

"Just Lana," she repeated. She brought her finger to her bottom lip, tapping it. "This book is too sad, but... I gave Papa a book the other day. It's either in his closet or buried underneath one of those piles on his desk. Could you check there, I'll have a look in the closet—it requires a key."

"Sure." He lifted a folder, finding simplified sketches of Sundale's ground plan. This was getting more absurd. He was invading the King's personal documents in search of a book he didn't even know the title of.

His eyes fell on the scroll. He peeked at Princess Lana, who was closing the painting of a staggering black horse that hung in the back of the room, holding a silver key no bigger than the tip of her thumb.

The God of Greed took the opportunity to grab the letter and stuff it in the pocket of Nick's coat. A wrong move; one that would lead to so much trouble if anyone found out.

Shouldn't he just put it back?

"Oh, here you are. Papa did read you after all." The Princess fished a book from the space between the armrest and the cushion. She showed the cover to him, a hand-drawn picture of a blonde boy leading an army of knights "What do you say, Nick? How does 'Lucas and the Horselords of the Western Plains' sound?"

"I've heard about him. He joined the temporary alliance of the Horselords and witnessed them pledging allegiance to King David of Northern Greenland." Later the unbeatable army had crushed the eastern forces in Ashbourne; a first crucial step to unite the small kingdoms into one big nation.

"Impressive. A country boy knowing his history." She smirked, cocking her head. As kind as she was, there was something terribly condescending in that tone of hers.

Nick let go of the letter in his pocket; it would be a problem for later. "Lord Brandon gave me history books for my ninth birthday. I've read them so often that I can almost recite them."

"Ah, good old Uncle Bran," she cooed. "I'm sure he stole those books from the library before he left. I doubt Papa has noticed. If stories don't revolve around horses, he doesn't want to read them."

The lump returned to his throat. Rather than reading the adventures of a boy and his loyal steed, he should be heading back to the stable to comfort Billy. But he couldn't just leave the Princess of the Greenlands, could he?

She playfully flopped on the couch, kicking out her diamond-coated slippers in the process. "Come join me, Nick. I'll read out loud. Just you enjoy the best place in the entire world."

As he sat down, the cushions adapted to the shape of his body. This was better than any pillow he had ever read on, but to call it the best place in the world; that was an exaggeration.

He popped another biscuit into his mouth. For that Abby would have to come curling on his lap, begging to read one more story before she had to go to bed.

This wasn't heaven after all. Not even adding more hazelnuts to the creamy biscuit dough would change that.

The Princess spread the book open and cleared her throat. "Chapter one: Rupert takes a walk down the forest of Claywood."

By the time Rupert the horse had escaped the confinement of his boring old stable box, Nick concluded that he had never seen anyone recount a tale with so much passion. She gesticulated widely, her arms flying everywhere, while she imitated the voices of all characters that popped into the story. Whether they be squealing toddlers or old grumpy men, she could do them all equally well.

Somewhere during chapter five, Lucas and Rupert enter the cave of wonders, Nick untied his shoes and pressed his legs against his body. He yawned, his eyelids jerking with the effort to stay awake. The journey to Sundale had been long, but there was no way he would miss any second of this hilarious tale of the unfortunate miller boy who followed his clumsy stallion in a quest to find the mare with the brown spot above her right front hoof.

After seeing a future battle in the crystals, Lucas and Rupert dashed out of the cave, fleeing from a horde of vengeful spiders. Tears of laughter were streaming down Nick's face as the Princess ran around the couch. She dove back on when Rupert splashed into the river to escape the hairy eight-legged creatures, and Lucas tottered from the saddle, into the water.

She may not be Abby, but Princess Lana sure was a sight to behold. A beauty, for sure, but she was so much more than that.

He wouldn't mind becoming friends with her.

Hours passed, the chapters taking them all across the Western Plains, still searching Rupert's dream mare. Just as Lucas, alongside Lord Samuel, entered the hall of King David in Whitewater, the pendulum clock struck six times.

"Uh oh." She slapped the book shut, her eyes bigger than a doe about to be pierced by an arrow. "We better run. We're already late."