"You will never know what happened yesterday." Rid said upon entering the stables.

Lach looked up under sweaty brows, a shovel in hand. "You found a noble lady willing to fall for one of your shitty lines?"

Rid smirked. "Well, it wasn't what I was going to say, but you are absolutely correct." He strutted towards the pile of hay Lach was bundling up neatly on a corner. He sprawled down, the brittleness cracking under his weight and his sandy-blonde hair vanishing against the dried yellowish plant. Lach sent him a glare that was willingly ignored as he slipped one rod between his mouth, muffling his speech. "I did indeed meet a wonderful woman." Lach raised a brow. "She wore a diamond necklace thicker than her own neck." Of course. That was all Rid was really interested in.

"What about the color of her eyes or her gown?" Lach asked in a challenge.

Rid drew blank for a moment, and Lach rolled his eyes. "She was...interesting to look at."

"You do not even remember her face."

Rid huffed. "Of course I do. She had fiery red hair, an ample bosom, and a very... wrinkly skin." Lach let out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "Sure, she could be my mother, but it doesn't matter to me." Lach rolled his eyes. "Still, she was beautiful for a woman of her age. Perhaps you saw her?"

"Absolutely did not," Lach mumbled as the shovel creaked under the dry grass, creating another bundle far away from Rid and his sprawling habit.

Rid propelled himself on one arm. "Oh, correct. You were too busy being kicked out for that." The lack of humor in Rid's tone made Lach spin around. Forest green eyes met dark bemused ones, void of his usual jest.

"I don't think getting into a fight with a Lord is the best way to be noticed around here." The sandy-blond pushed himself back on his feet with a grunt while Lach stayed stoic in shame.

The hay traveled by Lach's feet as the wind blew his whistle, slowly destroying his new bundle. His act the eve wasn't smart. He was aware of that, but the sole thought of Lord Harrington's face tore any senses away from him. "It doesn't matter." He threw before trying to gather back the escaping twigs of hay, but the wind was too strong.

"It does matter!" Rid was in front of Lach in a sudden shift, gripping his shoulders. "Don't fuck everything up because of some thirst for revenge."

Lach's eyebrows met in a deep frown. Rid wouldn't dare going dare. Right? Still, he needed to ask, "What are you talking about?"

Rid's face settled into tight lines. "Your father."

The air stilled; even the wind could sense what was coming as Lach's dark irises trembled. "Do not talk about my father. You know nothing." Nobody knew, and nobody would know.

Rid lifted his hands off of him. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

A gush of wind blew the dark strands away, and Lach's eyes softened. He shook his head. Rid had nothing to do with what happened. He was merely a witness of Lach spiraling into maddening chaos. He wouldn't come out intact if he let himself slide down that pit for too long. "Forget it."

The tension was still palpable as Rid's hands moved hesitantly, and the guilt reached Lach. They had known each other for too long to behave like this around each other. Lach forced lightness in his voice though his spirit was still heavy. "So what else happened when I was kicked out?"

Rid's lips tugged upward, cheerfulness back in his features. "You won't believe this one." Hearing about Rid's shenanigans was always a welcome distraction. "The Princess disappeared." Lach's face fall. He hadn't expected this. Green eyes widened. "You don't even know how much ruckus it caused."

The words pulled Lach's stomach upside down. "Oh, really?" He showed Rid his back, working his arms again, hoping he wouldn't read the absolute fear throbbing on Lach's features.

"Yeah. Absolute chaos."

Lach swallowed his fear as much as he could. "Was she gone for long?" The stableman had no idea how much time had fallen since the moment they left and returned to the castle. For him, everything happened so fast that it blurred.

"Long enough for the King to almost declare another war." Pearls formed on Lach's forehead, which weren't from physical labor. "You could see the madness in his face. Don't forget that it is why he went to war ten years ago." Lach shuddered at the memory. The blood, the death, and the despair of that time hadn't been matched yet. "Not really what was expected for a ceremony aimed to unit the continent again." Rid drawled, shrugging. "Fortunately, she appeared back before the Peace Treaty was torn apart."

Lach's heart pounded in his throat. "Did she explain why she was gone?"

"Something about needing fresh air. But I don't buy it," Rid leaned close to Lach as he murmured. "Words traveled between the servants that she has a secret t lover, unknown of the King and the court and that she must have met him that night." Blood drained so much from Lach's head he got light and dizzy. Rid nudged his shoulder. "Are you well? You look pale. Well, paler than usual."

Lach felt his knees snap, and he dropped onto a wooden box, wearing the face of a man who had seen death himself, and perhaps he was about to. "I am very well."

"You are trembling," Rid noted.

Lach's eyes fell on his shaking hands. "I am not."

Rid frowned before he shrugged it off. "And it is apparently why she doesn't want to get married." Rid double-eyed him. "Are you sure you are well? You look like a kid with the flu."

He might as well be.

"Anyway, whether it is true or not. This situation won't last. The lad will probably be hung or, worse, sent to the Forest Of The Condemned.

Lach's eyes widened. "What? Where they sent the outcasts and the barbarians?" If there was something worse than death, it was being sent inside this forest. Most people entering it never found the light of day again.

Rid nodded gravely. "Still, she seemed quite fond of the Prince of Mias." Lach raised an eyebrow in a silent question. "He was the only one she danced with." Lach frowned. The Prince slipped in during his confrontation with Lord Harrington, and saved Lach from a more significant punishment than half his pay. "They seem to be a good match." Lach looked away. "Favor or not. Ornuv seemed to be in good hands with him."

Lach sighed heavily. He couldn't refute that fact.

**

"Oh, Sun !" Lily's eyes vibrated as she barely contained an overly cheerful and strident squeal. Her hands eagerly unsealed a dozen trunks suffocating the Princess's quarters. Courtesy of the numerous suitors.

The fifty other trunks were piled up in another room at the request of the Princess, for she wouldn't let her own haven be invaded. "Those gifts are just marvelous. Don't you agree, Princess?"

Amaya hummed, gazing at the frosted window. It hadn't snowed for a while, but the cold was still merciless, leaving numbing skin and trembling bone in its wake.

Still, a flame had awake in her core the night before, washing over her skin as she nestled deep against the stableman's chest. The sudden way he grabbed and pulled her against him made her pulse drum with fear and marvelous heat she hadn't ever felt before. Her eyes fell on her hands as if she could feel her palms against the warmth of his chest.

Another squeal snatched Amaya away from that warmth. Liquid shiny silk reflected against her deep-night eyes. The texture was thin and delicate, like a second skin but rich in color. Emerald green, yellow sun, crimson red, and azure blue danced before Amaya, hues reflecting the ocean under a stark summer sun, the flowers bloom, and the vibrance of grass during spring.

They made her travel to all these foreign places she could only witness in her book until a strong wind hit her window, reminding her she was still buried under the snow that had yet to melt. In no way would she be able to wear these dresses here. Ornuvian cold was unforgiven, especially to those who dared to challenge it. "I do not see the point of gifting such unwearable attire."

Lily ignored the remark as her eyes jolted, discovering a creamy-colored envelope. "All these are from Prince Ezri," Amaya's eyebrow raised. Lily caged a squeal with her palm. "He wrote a letter."

Amaya extended her hand, and Lily nudged her to tear the paper open quicker. A beige parchment unfolded as she scanned dark and cursive letters.

"To Princess Amaya, Sun of Ornuv,

Face of an angel, beauty of the nightfall, graced by the Sun God,

Who is like a diamond and melted honey in the blazing fire of hearts,

flying like an innocent dove full of virtues and value,

Sends joy, prosperity, favor in the hearts of the ones who see her sweet eyes,

In this life or in the blissful infinite one,

What the God of the Sun sent to the earth with all his heart,

And what is from me paled in comparison,

But the hope is for you to enjoy,

What I gifted you fully,

With the sincerity of my heart,

Ezri Edola Motantu, Prince of the Kingdom of Mias."

"Besides being the most gorgeous man walking on the Continent, he is also a fine poet and writer." Lily fawned behind Amaya's shoulder.

"He is," Amaya admitted with a sigh.

"Did he finally win your heart?"

The Princess turned around with a scoff. "There's more than fabrics to win someone's heart, dear Lily. Moreover, there are no humble bones residing in his body. He seems to have many talents, which he doesn't even feign to hide.

"You are being unreasonable." Lily massaged the place between her eyes. "The King is willing for you to choose your suitors. This is generous considering that most do not have the choice." Amaya exhaled deeply, and Lily appeared in front of her. "Especially after the stunt you made yesterday," Amaya's gaze traveled to the trunk.

"I know Father is furious, but...." She searched for words to express her frustration. Still, they all fell flat, especially with Lily always around her to remind her how an ungrateful daughter she was.

"Where did you even go?"

"I- I went to the stables."

"Again? It's like you are a little girl again sneaking out to go to the stables and play with this boy."

"I am a woman Lily. Not a little girl, which most have a hard time understanding-" Amaya frowned. "What boy?"

"The one you used to play with as a little girl." Lily raised a brow. "Don't you remember? A merchant's son." Amaya paused, her mind pulling her to that time, and flashes of a boy with dark hair and a wooden stick blurred into her mind.

"I do." Amaya drawled out. An uneasy feeling settled into her as if the souvenir merged with today. "What was his name?"

"I do not know his name." Lily sighed. "Besides, the most important is your wedding and the current man you will choose as your husband."

Amaya crossed her arms. "Sun God, Lily. I wish you could have this wedding instead of me. You seemed more eager than I will ever be."

"If I was lucky enough to be in your position, I would seize the opportunity with fervent hands." Lily's hands closed on themselves as if gripping for something that wasn't there, and it dawned on Amaya why Lily was so fervent in changing her mind.

Amaya gripped her tight fist. "You will find a suitor too. Anyone would be so wonderfully lucky to have you as a wife."

Lily's eyes fell to the side. "Nobody wants to be with an orphan, a girl without parents, name, or heritage."

"You are not just an orphan but a part of the King's court."

"A handmaiden."

"A member of the royal family," Amaya searched her gaze. "I have known you all my life, and I can actively say that you are the most precious jewel someone can have in their life.

A soft smile graced Lily's face. "This is not about me." She let go of the Princess's grip. "This is about you."

Amaya's gaze lingered on the trunks. "Hopefully, marrying means Father will let me be."

"You know he would never stop caring about you."

But it seemed the God Sun hadn't quite finished tormenting her. On cue, as if the following penance had waited resolutely behind the door, its hinges creaked, letting the tight face of a servant in. "Your Highness, the King requires your presence in the courtroom. Now." The two women exchanged a look, and Amaya found the safety of her pendant before gathering her nerves and facing the consequences of her actions.