Lord Masters was a stern man and calculating though not unpleasant. I took little notice of him, all my attention returning to his daughter. My dark curls only tamed by Clory's skilled hands. Her hair grew straight and flawless the color of wheat during harvest. It framed her face accented by startling dark eyes. The contrast shouldn't have worked but she was a striking beauty. Well mannered, elegant; she was pure Cyntherian, a jewel of the realm. Raised from birth to marry well and bear her husband beautiful golden children.

I didn't need to see the careful way people watched us when we were in the same room together, how the conversation would stop when I walked in or see the whispers behind raised palms to know there was something more about her than just an old friend. Genevieve's presence followed me for days. I'd heard enough court gossip to know that Theodrid and Emmeline had conspired with Lord Masters to bring Emory and Genevieve together as children with hopes it would grow into something more as they matured. And there was every indication that their plan was working until I crashed into their lives, a wayward meteor on a path of destruction. No wonder I couldn't bring myself to hate her. Whenever I caught a glimpse of her all I felt was guilt. It was a stone in my stomach, grinding against my insides like a mortar.

Genevieve had lived her life with one goal in mind, her future set knowing who she was and where her life would lead. Emory had tried to warn me, our first kiss in the library he tried to explain how destructive a relationship between us could be but I didn't understand. He knew. When I was a nameless ward, alone and lost he'd known there was a plan for his future. Years of hoping and working towards a common goal, Genevieve had been raised to be a Queen, taught the fundamentals of court and how to rule. Emmeline herself had a part in her education as a child when she was fostered at the Keep, a boon companion for a young prince. Emory knew all of this and still tried to tell me, he had obligations to his country, expectations and I was a threat to his rule. Those were his words. He'd tried to warn me. I only wish he'd tried harder.   

   Being confronted with the life he would have made me ill. I was a menace. A harbinger of grief and sacrifice. Eskeria had burned and I had fled, fled for my life only to wreak havoc and bring that chaos with me. No wonder Genevieve stared at me uncertain, fearful of what my presence meant for her. She loved him, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't begrudge her that. He was Emory, how could she not be in love with him? And I, I was the usurper. She'd done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this and fate had supplanted her anyway. Truth be told, I was the villain in her story.

They don't practice childhood betrothals in Cynthera, though families will work together to push their children towards one another. It is unseemly to make decisions regarding love and marriage for children who don't understand its meaning. No one is forced to marry if the match is unwelcomed but even then, agreements are made and love of home and country outweighs the heart.

I kept playing our conversation in the library over and over in my head. He'd told me Theodrid and Emmeline were welcome to take on lovers if they wished. It was a common enough practice, but theirs was a true love match so they had never strayed. Love in any form was never to be denied, not in Cynthera. It was their greatest gift and duty would not stand in its way. Emory would marry for his country, his reign, be expected to produce legitimate Cyntherian heirs. His love for Cynthera would outweigh his love for anyone else.

Is my mistress what you aspire to be? His question had thrilled me as we made love in the bath after the Anniversary. His mistress. He'd been telling me all along and I never caught on. I am a fool. A complete idiot. I'd thought myself intelligent, informed but how quickly I forgot my own naivety; forgot my own amnesia and all the social etiquettes I should have known but lost.

How could I be so blind? I was a virgin when they rescued me, I know now it was because I was meant to rule one day. I was the eldest, Lucca was younger than I and in Eskeria the matriarch went to the firstborn regardless of gender. I'd been saving my virtue for marriage to the future King Consort of Eskeria so my children's line would be without question. Genevieve would have been raised the same, bound to be Queen she would have protected her virginity. Anyone, rich or poor, can stay unmarried. There are Dukes and Commanders that never married but have families and children, legitimate heirs without being wed. Genevieve was going to be Queen one day; she wouldn't have risked that for a dalliance. She wouldn't have risked Emory.

A poisonous siren. Seductress from the sea.

Animlyre.

There was no denying I'd been all those things and I couldn't blame her for her fear of me. A thief in the night.

I, however, drawn to Emory like a magnet hadn't hesitated to push him. He'd fought our attraction. Not me. If anything, I goaded him every chance I got. Emory tried to choose duty, fought against the desire until he was belligerent with frustration. That night, during the snow storm I found the crack in his resolve and leveraged my way into it until he broke. I'd gone to him that next morning, not the other way around. I seduced him. I could still hear his voice in his chambers, a warning against what I was about to do as he said my name. He hadn't crawled into my bed; I went to him and thrown myself at him.

My need for Emory never subsided and I never questioned it. For months we'd barely kept our hands off each other, there were few hard surfaces left in the Keep Emory hadn't taken me on, against, over, under, behind. We were mindless in our desires and not once did I stop to think of what it could mean for my future. I'd never been with anyone other than Emory but we didn't speak of the future, never once did he mention marriage or children.

Genevieve.

Not a single person had brought up her name until she was standing in front of me curtsying, eyes bright with emotion. It blindsided me. Everyone had said Emory was selective; careful is what they'd told me. Not a single word about her. I'd swept in here, a damsel from the Sea, this grand tale of drama and romance, our story was known countrywide. The poor thing had returned to Arlington in love with her future husband, all things right and promising only to be forced to hear rumors and gossip of the tragic lady nursed to health and welcomed into the Royal family's home and hearts, stealing her Prince Emory's love away from her. Now she's here, polite and courteous, made to watch her childhood friend love another. Gods, I'd hate me and yet, she'd been nothing but supportive seeing me in her place. And the worst of it was that I liked her. She was kind, funny. I could see us becoming friends if I wasn't her worst nightmare, her replacement.

Had I? No one had mentioned an engagement, no one spoke of marriage. As far as I could tell the marriage between Emory and Genevieve was still a distinct possibility. Theodrid and Emmeline hadn't held spoken with the Duke and Duchess of Arlington. Lord Masters didn't have a harsh word against me. Quite the contrary, he'd been encouraging, promising aid if ever I needed anything; offering information willingly. His wife, Lady Arnett was kind but she kept a sharp eye on me. I was merely an annoyance but not a threat to her daughter. She and the Duke both had dalliances on the side. They were circumspect about it but it wasn't a secret. Here at the Keep, they kept separate rooms.

I could see it in the way Lady Arnett looked at me. Eskerian royalty or not, I would never be anything more than Emory's mistress.

There was a going bet on whether or not I would attend the evening meal. I hadn't been to any of the previous supers that week and were to sail for Eskeria in the morning. Clory had helped me get ready after she stormed into the war room and demanded I attend the feast for my last night in Cynthera. She looked so hurt in her anger I couldn't tell her no.

Watching them together was agony but I couldn't look away as they laughed. Emory leaned down and kissed Genevieve on the cheek. They shared a smile, unaware that I'd arrived. 

   It was polite, as platonic and simple as the kisses Emory pressed to his mother's cheek but it was a dagger in my chest. I couldn't breathe around the pain. 'You can never leave me, love.'

What was I thinking? What was he thinking? My anger easily finding fault in Emory.

Gisla caught my eye but I waved her off, unable to stand the sight of food. Everyone was eating at their own leisure, no one would notice if I refused and they wouldn't think much of it if they did. The fate of Eskeria was on everyone's minds and tongues. The glances and blatant gestures in my direction were enough cause to explain my lack of appetite. If I could run screaming from the halls, I would have but the weight of being the only remaining royal of my country demanding my utmost respect. I owed it to the people of Eskeria to represent them. There was no one left who could. So I sat a seat away from Emmeline and Theodrid who were having a delightful conversation with Lord Fredrick about horses and this year's colts. The hall was brimming with people, everyone dressed in their finest. The noise of conversation clogging the air.

Emory hadn't come to sit next to me but remained standing at Genevieve's shoulder talking with her and her family.

Playing my role, I felt like a marionette, a fraud, mimicking being human. My smiles just a little too tight, my laugh forced and just a touch later than it should be. I responded without listening, acting out my part, playing the strong, resilient princess bound for Eskeria. 'Returning home,' 'Investigation,' 'Three days' time,' 'two days' time;' I was a repetition of phrases and responses. 'I must return to Eskeria,' 'Thank you for your condolences.' 'The ship leaves tomorrow,' 'No, I don't know why we were attacked,' 'Yes, I miss them,' On the outside, I was the proper combination of saddened and determined. The epitome of regal decorum. Queenly, as my mother would have expected of me.

It was a lie. I was drowning.

When, at last, I got a break from everyone's self-serving need to placate me with well wishes and apologies I pressed my palms against the edge of the table and shoved. The legs squealed harshly against the stones as I pushed my chair back. Slipping out the side door near the kitchens I gasped for air.

I circled once looking down the aisles between buildings, space tight and constricting. Suffocating I turned toward the training field and the gate. I needed to get out. I needed air. I was trapped here, the aisle was too narrow, the walls of the Keep too high, too close. I needed to breathe. I needed.... I needed..... I needed out. I needed to get away, far, far away. It had to stop. I couldn't take it anymore. It had to stop.

Arriving at the wide-open field in front of the gate wasn't enough. I couldn't stay here. Luckily the stables were so overwhelmed with parliament guests Dante was still saddled in the yard. A stable hand was untying him from his post to take him and tuck him in for the night.

In the outer recesses of my mind, I heard my name being called but it didn't process. It was distant and muffled by the ringing in my ears. I fought the abyss threatening to drag me under. The stable lad didn't protest when I pulled the reigns from his hands, he stared wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. My anxiety pushing me I leapt, setting my foot in the stirrups and lifted myself onto Dante's back careless of my skirts or my safety. Tears were falling down my cheeks collecting under my chin as I hiccupped fighting for air.

He held perfectly still as I clambered on, picking up on my mood and stress he pawed at the ground. Dante's ears pinned back and all it took was a tap of my heel for him to surge forward. Flying into a sprint for the open gate we shot through. Men were yelling all around me, a few guards raced to halt our progress but Dante was too quick for them. I fought him outside the wall, setting him back on his heels. He made two full rotations before I got him in the direction I wanted, pointing him towards the trail along the fortress.

It was madness. Only Dante's surefootedness kept me in the saddle as he charged up the side of the mountain. I couldn't see a thing as we galloped and held on tight as the horse beneath me battled up the trail. He stumbled, his back foot catching the edge and the rocks gave way beneath him sending a torrent of dirt and stones down the cliffside. He caught himself before we both went over and after a few uncoordinated steps he fell back into stride and gained his pace once more. Dante had his heading and I was losing mine. 

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Happy thanksgiving.
Don't forget to vote.

Since it's the holidays I've decided to post two chapters instead of one. That way if I get caught up in the festivities this week I won't neglect you guys. Happy turkey day.
Thank you all so so so so so so much.