Each step shook her body as they echoed like thunders in the hallway. Amaya huffed. The scene from the stables unfolded more nerves inside her body. Who was he to talk to her like that? What has she done to make him act like this suddenly? She dove into her mind and searched out each of their interactions, but nothing would come. Did she unintentionally mistreat him? The feeling gnawed at her heart, and her steps faltered. She gazed over her shoulder. Perhaps, she should go back and clarify any misunderstanding...She frowned. She hadn't done anything wrong. Certainly, one of the horses must have stepped on his foot. This was the only logical reason for that aberrant behavior.

She looked forward again, and a deep scowl spreading over burned scar smacked her, spurring a soft gasp. "Commander Zakrus."

"Your Highness." He bowed.

The man had spurred from nowhere like a wild bunny. Amaya gathered herself together and cleared her throat, hoping her heartbeat wasn't too loud in the quiet hallway. "What can I help you with, Commander?"

The man scooted closer, his statuesque frame hovering over Amaya. She fidgeted with a piece of her skirt. Despite years of encounters, Amaya could never shake that uneasiness of her skin each time he was in a mere distance from her.

"Do you believe this wedding is the solution for Ornuv?" his voice insinuated like sickness without a cure. Amaya's eyes jumped to his, the depth of hell staring back at her.

"What I believe is none of your business Commander," she stated, keeping her eyes straight at him despite her skin crawling.

He glanced sideways and patted his pointed beard before letting a rough unhumorous chuckle. The Princess's eyes narrowed. "Everyone is aware of your feeling towards this union, Princess." He bared his teeth in a tight smile. "Your resentment and unwillingness have been clear since day one."

Amaya's grip on her skirt tightened, keeping the threatening bursting flame inside of her at bay. "If you know so much, Commander, why are you asking me this?"

A rictus threatened to burst through his dried lips. He shrugged. "I have a solution to your problem," he stated, eyes pointy. Another swift glance around. "We can have the Favor back."

The words sank between the two, into silence, into their meaning, and into surprise. "What did you say?"

He stepped closer, and Amaya gathered her strength to not step back. The battered skin was still vivid, and she winced inwardly. "The Favor is not lost," he whispered. Amaya's mind scrambled. "This is a myth. There is proof we can get it back, but I need your help, Princess," Amaya searched his gaze, wondering if she should fear for his sanity or burst into a laugh. "Think about it, your Highness. It is the solution for you.". You will not have to marry, and Ornuv gets to keep his sovereignty."

"How are you even sure about it?"

The Commander's gaze traveled away before he found hers back. "The Prophecy."

"The Prophecy?"

"In Ornuv's history book."

Amaya shook her head. "You can't possibly believe the words of an outdated book." The Commander kept his silent gaze on her. "Besides, is it the best solution for me or you?" she demanded with a pointy look. "I believe you have your fair share of opposition against this marriage. While I have been clear about my feelings, yours haven't gone unnoticed. We all heard about your tantrum during the council meeting and know that you fear for your position." She wouldn't miss her turn to move if he wanted to play that game.

The Commander's jaw tightened. "Ornuv can't lose his sovereignty," he insisted. "This would be the death of our army." His features constricted. "You and I want the same thing," his voice boiled with frustration. "We can stop this masquerade and bring back the Favor."

Amaya huffed. "I believe, Commander, you should talk about this matter to the King himself." Amaya knew better than to believe a man that had constantly challenged her father's opinion. The Commander's eyebrows went down, and his lips narrowed. "Now, excuse me. I wish to go to my quarters."

She stepped forward, but the Commander's voice stopped her. "You know as much as I that it is true. Your mother knew it too." Amaya's steps faltered, and she looked back at the man. He smiled tightly. The expression insinuating eyes in her bones. "It is a matter worth pondering, Your Highness."

"Good day, Commander," she stated before leaving. Amaya's shoulders tensed, and her pace quickened as she felt the burning eyes of the Commander on her.

**

"What's that face for?" Lily asked as her fingers untangled a braid at the top of Amaya's head. Few of them were already untangled, letting the dark tiny curls free as the Princess sat before a gold embroidered vanity mimicking every piece of the furniture ornamenting the Princess' quarters.

Amaya's stared at herself through the oval-shaped mirror. Her eyebrows desperately tried to meet, and her mouth curved down to the floor. She blinked before easing her expression into something more neutral. "Nothing worth the mention," she said, despite Zakrus's words scrambling her mind into confusion. She let out a lengthy sigh.

Lily leaned forward, crouching until her face almost reached Amaya's level. "Aren't you thrilled to be engaged to the Prince of Mias?"

Sun God. She didn't need to be reminded of that. She met Lily's gaze through the glass. "Can't you see? I am the happiest woman in the world."

Lily gave her an unimpressed look. "You should be. You are to be the Queen of Mias. Prince Ezri has been the best candidate of all, and despite your infantile behavior, he still wants to marry you." Amaya felt a pull from her skull.

"Ouch. Lily!" Amaya sent her a death glare, but Lily kept her eyes focused on her task. "So what? Should I be glad he chose me?" Amaya sighed, crossing her arms.

Lily picked up a comb from the vanity. "All I am saying is you have no reason to make this face." Amaya rolled her eyes. "The situation could have been worse." Amaya wondered how. The pointy tip of the comb passed through the tight end of a braid. "Come on. Have you never thought about marrying before?"

Amaya fell silent. Of course, as a little girl Amaya had yearned about the day she would find herself so dazzled, so enchanted by a gentleman that she would eagerly give her hand to him. She had fantasized about the day her heart would be out under the sun and sparkle at the thought of the love they would share.

It had gone like that for years, but the sparkles in her heart died when she lost the most precious person in her life. She grabbed her pendant as a woman with the same hair and eyes flashed in her mind. As time passed, the memories blurred, and she feared that one day they would be too foggy to reminisce.

Since that day, her heart was locked in a safe where no sunrays could survive.

Amaya's gaze panned away. "How futile is love if it is to die one day?"

Lily paused. "What are you talking about? The love from the Prince will never die. Did you see how he looked at you?"

Prince Ezri. He seemed to be a good enough candidate to break the safe's lock. For some fleeting moment, sunrays would peek under the lid, shyly lightening her heart. After all, he had the proper record. He was handsome, charming, mannered, witty, and had an incredible smile that she could lose herself in without forgetting his heritage as the heir of Mias and soon to be the ruler of the most successful country of the Continent.

Then why the safe wouldn't open? Why was it staying close? Maybe it needed time.

A flash of dark strands like feather crow and warm eyes flashed like a storm, unexpected and deadly, leaving a shaking ground in its wake and threatening the safe's lid like never before. Amaya's heart grew heavy. She frowned deeply, remembering the last interaction with the stableman. He could stay forever in that stable for all she cared.

"Do you remember the boy?" Lily asked out of the blue.

Amaya tilted her head to the side. "A boy?"

"The one you sneaked out to see as a young girl. To the stables." Lily gave her a look through the mirror. Amaya dove into her souvenir, the flash of boyish giggles, a wood stick, and mud and dirt in her skin and clothes enough to make a maid faint. "You wouldn't stop blabbering about him."

The image cleared in Amaya's mind, and her expression turned fond. "I do remember I used to play knights with him."

"And you used to be covered in mud all the time." Lily shook her head as she worked her fingers to the top of Amaya's head, freeing another patch of curls. "The King's face would turn into horror upon seeing you."

"Father would be terrified and send me to the bath right away, while Mother would just laugh at me." Amaya chuckled. "It is possible that I ruined one or two dresses."

"Oh, you did, and more than two! I was livid seeing all those beautiful dresses ravaged." Lily sighed, and Amaya chuckled.

"I wonder what he became." Amaya touched her freed hair. "One day, he was gone and never returned, never giving farewells." her face fell.

"He probably started a trade like the other boys his age or was sent to war," Amaya's fingers slid from her hair. She couldn't fathom that a part of her childhood had been destroyed by war.

"I can't be." Just the thought of it made her bill surge.

"Even if he survived. He is probably married and has a bunch of children."

Amaya's eyebrows furrowed. "What is exactly your point, Lily?"

Lily sighed heavily. "It was the first time I saw you so enamored with someone. Even the kitchen boy didn't keep your attention for that long."

Blood rushed to Amaya's cheeks, darkening them even more. "Well, I was young and certainly needed a silly adventure. He gave me that." Playing with mere wood sticks in the dirt was a breath of fresh air in a life stuffed with protocol, decorum, and duty. It was the first time Amaya grabbed the joy of life with full hands.

A small smile played on the Princess's lips. Perhaps it had been the only time in her life when she had felt free, unbound of all the protocols and responsibilities slowly choking her until breathing became an option and not a way of living. Perhaps the idea of getting bound to a man she didn't choose to love made her remember that feeling.

"It is a pity you never knew his name." Lily shrugged, starting the last braid.

Amaya's lips tightened. "I don't believe he knew mine either. I never told him I was the Princess."

"Good grief! It is better this way. You don't know what he would have done if he knew."

"He wouldn't have done anything to harm me," Amaya assured.

Lily shrugged as she untangled the last patch of hair, leaving Amaya with a halo of tiny curls framing her face. "This is all but the past but now you have an amazing man by your side." She hugged her from behind, resting her head against Amaya's hair. "You will grow to love the Prince." Their eyes met through the mirror. "I am certain, he will give you all you need." Amaya placed her hand on her.

"I know," she whispered.

Lily smiled at her a last time before standing up. "Good! Do you need anything before bed?"

Amaya shook her head. Lily turned around and grabbed a cup before dusting a table. Lily was right. Ezri was probably the best candidate to become her husband. Still, she couldn't shake the idea that something was wrong. Like a thorn hiding under a pillow, she was about to sleep on. "Do you want me to put this back in the study?" Lily's voice startled Amaya, as she snapped her head at her. The manuscript she had been studying. The History of Ornuv.

Amaya's eyes widened as Lily tucked the book in her underarm. "No!" The maid raised an eyebrow. "I am not done with it," she stated, and Lily slowly placed it back on the table.

"Of course, Your Highness. Good night."

"Good night, Lily." As soon as Lily was gone, Amaya threw herself on the book, its heavy pages gliding through her fingers before it stopped on a page. Her mouth opened up slowly.

He was right.

**

Lach sat against a wooden pole, the back of his head flat against it. He looked outside to the dark sky. The moonlight shone bright that night, but even the beauty of it couldn't let his mind rest peacefully. He raked a hand into his black strands, recalling the Princess's fallen face earlier. It bothered him more than it should.

After all, he was right, wasn't he? She was the freaking Princess, and he wasn't worth the sole of her shoes. Moreover, she was promised to the Prince of Mias. Lach felt his purse, and his mood turned even more sour. He hoped at least this union would bring better days for everyone, especially his family. Still, her crushed expression ambushed him each time he closed his eyes.

A melodious laugh traveled in his mind, and he groaned. He was exhausted. His eyes were stinging, and he should probably join the rest of the workers in their bed of straws, but then again, his mind was too agitated for him to find serene rest. He looked back at the sky, and even the vastness of the dark blue sky couldn't appease his heart for a merciful second. He let his head fall into his hands, sighing. For now, he would have to let his heartache pass as usual.

Tomorrow would be another day.

A loud bang resonated, and his head jerked up. Then another one followed quickly. He stood up and peered outside. White extended ahead. Nothing around, not even a guard. Lach frowned and stepped out. As soon as he did, a swift cold air attacked him, but a bizarre feeling in his stomach pushed him through it.

He walked a few steps before his eyes fell on dark dots in the snow. The moonlight illuminated the area, but not enough for him to make out what it was. He crouched down and touched it with a finger before lifting it. The thick dark liquid was soggy as he rubbed his fingers together, and the moonlight revealed a vivid red.

The realization slowly dawned on Lach.

He swallowed thickly.

Blood.

He followed the dark dots coloring the snow and arrived before the castle's thick stone. Something long and dark lay on the snow. He stepped closer and gasped when its silhouette cleared, moving the back of his hand to his mouth as his eyes threatened to leave their sockets.

A man, a soldier according to his uniform, lay there, throat opened with frozen blood that had gushed out of it. Lach fell butt first on the snow, ignoring the cold on his skin as his chest heaved. The man's face was contorted into a horrified expression that slowly got buried as the falling snowing dots gathered on him.

He needed to warn everyone.