Plummeting into the abyss,

Reaching for eternity,

Grasping at reality,

Claiming nothing,

Consumed by darkness,

A single thin orb,

Floating above,

Growing dimmer,

Blinking into oblivion.

A light rain began to fall, and a young woman with long, brown hair sighed as it hit her face. In Andveltica, clouds often filled the sky, the heavens seeming to drip unceasingly. The seriousness of her sister’s condition weighed on Madeleine’s mind with each fresh drop of water. Courtney had survived the sweating sickness those five years ago, yes, but it had left her weak, her body never quite fully recovering from it.

The princess gazed at the stables up ahead. The large building gave off a comforting glow of light amongst the falling rain.

The strong scent of hay flooded her senses. Memories of days with the Nebrasian princes seemed to float around her in a haze. She imagined the tall grass sticking stubbornly to her skirt and would give anything to return to those fields now. Prince Adrian's face and words floated into view. “Whatever happens, we are still friends, alright?”

She jumped out of her skin when a castle messenger approached her, addressing her formally. The sight of his frilled sleeves and decorated hat made her groan.

“The Duke Marcel Leroy of Hermington would like to meet with you this afternoon, Your Majesty.” The boy’s voice cracked a little as he read off his script, his tawny-brown hands standing out against white sleeves. “He asks that you spectate while he plays a sporting game of tennis, and later in the evening, Sir Louis Le Blanc has invited you to accompany him to a dance held at court.”

The princess closed her eyes, breathing out. “More suitors? Mother has been busy, hasn’t she?” It had only been a day since the last onslaught of men had been thrust at her by the queen. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

“It’s ironic you mention Queen Nicole,” the messenger squeaked. “She requests your presence in the dining hall for lunch and was quite adamant that you not skip this time.” The boy adjusted his collar as her face fell into a hard scowl.

“Tell her I will be there shortly.”

He nodded and gave a small bow. “Of course, Your Highness.”

The messenger quickly went away, and the princess turned to gaze at the castle and its outer wall. She recalled the much-hated memory of her mother standing in the Nebrasian stables beside a handsome stable hand. Swallowing, she made her way towards the castle entrance, feeling uneasy.

♛♚♛

The princess entered the vast dining room, quickly taking a seat beside her sister.

Courtney looked up from her plate of cooked manioc and river fish, smiling at her younger sister’s arrival. She had jet black hair, dark eyes, and brown skin several shades darker than Madeleine’s.

The younger sister returned a smile of her own, but her expression fell when an older woman across the table with bronze skin and raven hair cleared her throat. Guessing what would come next, Madeleine furrowed her eyebrows and darkened her complexion in preparation, not meeting her mother’s gaze.

“I have received word,” the queen began, “that you accepted both Duke Marcel Leroy and Sir Louis Le Blanc’s invitations. I am proud of you, Madi. This is a step in the right direction. I do hope this time you will not reject them on the first outing as you have with all the others.”

Courtney gave the queen a warrying look.

“You mean, you accepted their invitations,” Madeleine replied haughtily. “If I am being honest, I have no interest in Sir Louis Le Blanc or that Duke Leroy or any men right now. Can I not just focus on my studies for a while?”

The queen’s lips tightened. “I do not think it wise to ignore court life at your age. A woman blooms for only a short while and in that time, she must wed for stability. Your life cannot prosper if you are not wed. That is how the life of a royal is. Stop fighting me on this, Madi.”

Madeleine began picking out the thin bones of the fish on her plate with a small fork. “There have been queens before, though,” she said quietly, “that ruled their kingdom after their husbands died, or even succeeded to power without being wed simply by succession.”

“Though this is true,” the queen retorted, “you are the last in the line of succession, and the king and I are healthy and fit to rule. The only successful future that lies in store for you, is one created through a smart match.”

“What about King Adrian?” she demanded. “He’s the most powerful man in all of Elderian right now, and he rules without anyone by his side. It’s been two years since his father stepped down and he’s doing just fine.”

“Several things, Madi. King Luc only stepped down because he is extremely ill and in those two years, Adrian has been extremely busy learning to be a ruler. In due time, he will find a partner to rule beside to create more stability. It’s only a matter of time. And another thing—”

“Okay, I understand,” she interrupted, clenching her fork. “Must I feel so frantic about finding someone now? And when one does start courting, it all moves so fast. I can barely keep up when I feel I have won a man’s favor.”

“I do wonder what your reputation at court is doing for your future. With so many refusals, such behavior is seen as highly irregular, even shocking to some.”

“Why should I care about that?”

“I am afraid all the truly profitable suitors can afford to be picky and are likely to glance over you when they discover your past, how should I say, record.”

“Oh, why does that even matter? If I could just wait a few years before I start courting seriously—”

“Madi, you should be grateful that you even have the power to turn them away and that the king and I have not already chosen a suitor for you.” Queen Nicole glanced at Courtney who looked away. “You have a duty to your country and to your people. I’m afraid that is what you must place your focus on right now. And as the subject has been brought up, Courtney was betrothed this morning to Prince Albert from Flussland. The king and I signed it but three hours prior.”

Madeleine’s eyes shot to her sister. Courtney continued to eat, her eyes never leaving her plate.

“Courtney…is that true?”

The older sister nodded mutely.

“You should be humble” Queen Nicole went on, and Madeleine fixed her with a murderous glare, “in your ability to choose whom you accept at court. That is a freedom not all royal women have. Now eat. You must be refreshed before attending the tennis match this afternoon.”

Madeleine clenched her fists under the table and scowled as silence overtook the hall. She quickly excused herself.

♛♚♛

Wearing a delicate white gown embroidered with golden beads, Madeleine was escorted across Andveltica’s vast green lawns. Her hair was pinned up on her head in braids and curls and covered with an ornate French hood. A spectacular ruff with intricate stitching circled her neck. To her surprise, the sun was out, and it shone on her face, filling her rouge-painted cheeks with color.

The courtyard may have been the only grass field in all of Andveltica as the rest of the country was covered in thick, tropical vegetation. The jungle surrounded the castle walls and she always wondered how they continued to keep the lush trees and plants from growing wild inside the perimeter.

She stopped for a moment to glance up at the stone towers that glowered down at her.

The old castle reminded her of a dungeon cell. The plain, dark rock with ancient moss creeping up the sides would have been gloomy enough, but the old-style bars that covered every window left a sense of involuntary confinement. Peeling her eyes away from it, she walked forward again, her escorts trailing behind her.

A large crowd was filing into an old building that stood out against the vibrant grass surrounding it. Still a ways off, Madeleine stopped a moment and watched the bustling people disappear behind two large oak doors that stood ajar.

She stared, unblinking, as her imagination whisked her off to a game of tennis from several years past. A familiar sensation of bittersweetness filled her breast and she closed her eyes, imagining the princes’ faces. Antoine’s unkempt, curly brown hair and mischievous grin came into view as well as Adrian’s piercing blue eyes. She grinned slightly when all of a sudden, the daydream was swiftly broken.

“Princess Madeleine of Andveltica.”

She opened her eyes. A stunning man with rich brown eyes and long, curly black hair tied at the back had dismounted from a white steed. His ebony face was full of interest as he approached her with vigor; his ornate, split crimson sleeves were wound with golden thread.

He bowed deeply, removing his decorated, feathered hat which revealed more of the thick, tightly curled hair. “Duke Marcel Leroy of Hermington, at your service,” he said, his voice deep and rugged.

At the mention of his name, she reclaimed her decorum and poise. “Ah, yes.” She bowed briefly. “I’ve heard of your abilities. They say that when it comes to tennis, you are truly someone of talent.” He grinned. “It would be rather humiliating then, if you were unable to conquer this match.”

He lifted his chin, tilting his head slightly, and she was having difficulty not taking in his firm, black jawline and thick, dark eyebrows. “You are even more beautiful than the rumors suggest. I promise only victory to my princess. Anything less and you will most certainly leave me behind as I hear you’ve done with all your previous suitors.” His eyes glinted with humor and a hint of confrontation.

She considered him. “And you think it wise to believe such rumors?”

“How can I not, when it is clear as day you are both beautiful and perilous.” She stiffened. “I shall see you inside then, Princess.”

She watched him disappear through the doorway. After a moment, she too made her way past the double doors. Inside the roomy building now, she gazed at the long hallway with grated windows all along the left side where the other spectators were gathered.

She strode to a good viewing spot and waited. After half and hour or so, she caught sight of Marcel on the other side of the barrier. The man was running a hand through his hair and twirling a racket in the other, now changed into more appropriate attire for the occassion. She frowned and glanced away as soon as her eyes fell on his tight, athletic pants.

Marcel’s opponent glared from the opposite end of the court where a net divided them. Above the two players were three low roofs. There was one specific window at the very end of the row near Marcel’s opponent that Madeleine recognized as the Winning Gallery. It had a bell strung to it and in all her past dealings with the game, she had never been able to utilize this specific spot.

“Don’t pay too much attention to that winning gallery,” a young Adrian explained in her head. “It’s all for show in my opinion. Most of your points are going to come from the back-and-forth play over the net.”

She could see her younger self nodding. “But Adrian, even without the winning gallery, how am I supposed to remember all the rules, much less actually score?”

“It’s just tennis. The ball can be bounced off the ceiling and onto one of the three penthouses as many times as needed as long as it stays on your side and doesn’t touch the ground more than once.”

“Penthouses?”

“The roofs inside the court. Madi, just watch me and Tony play a few rounds so you get the hang of it. Don’t forget to call out tenez before you serve. Like this...” Adrian’s young voice was replaced by a deep, manly one.

“Tenez!” Marcel shouted, and Madeleine was flung into the present.

Marcel raised his racket and without a hint of effort, sent the white ball whizzing to his left onto one of the penthouses. His biceps bulged with the effort. The serve was flawless, and the ball rolled along the roof and bounced once on the ground on the receiver’s end.

The receiver, Madeleine noticed, was also brawny and athletic, and the look of intensity on his face sent shivers up her spine. He was much larger than Marcel and his flaming red hair and furrowed eyebrows gave him a devilish look.

Every so often he would pause to spit on the ground, glaring at Marcel as though hoping to throw the smaller man off guard, but to no avail. Marcel swung without hesitation, sending the ball soaring over the net and out of the red head’s reach. Applause erupted from the audience and Marcel’s voice rang out again.

“15-knave!”

The game went on like that until it was the redhead’s turn to serve. Visibly agitated, he nearly threw his racket upon swinging, and Marcel, unperturbed, half-heartedly swung in reply. Madeleine gasped as the ball struck the winning gallery, causing it to ring out. More applause.

Marcel turned towards her, grinning. She looked away quickly, a slight rouge filling her cheeks. The reaction made him grin even wider as he strutted over to the basket in the corner of the court, retrieving another ball.

After a few more well-placed shots, Marcel won the first game. Madeleine lost track of time watching him as he won five more, claiming the first set of the match. If he claimed another set, the game would be over.

There was a new energy coming from the crowd as well as the redhead that she had quickly learned was named Sir Arthur. The ball flew rapidly back and forth over the penthouses and net, sometimes striking the winning gallery. They were soon neck and neck as the two competitors took turns winning one game after the other.

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At last, the red head called out, “Sir Arthur. Games 6-5.”

Having only won five, Marcel would need to win two in a row to take the last set.

He shot her another glance and Madeleine could only stare back at him in anticipation. She silently cheered him on as he swiftly won the next game in a matter of minutes. Sir Arthur grunted loudly as he made his serve, and Marcel deflected it with some difficulty, having lurched forward onto one knee to reach it.

He turned to her and winked. She blinked, and when the redhead had returned the ball over the net, Marcel swung his racket with great effort and hit the winning gallery, causing the crowd to erupt into chaos.

Tossing his racket to the side, he bowed then grinned in the direction of the princess again, his face drenched in sweat.

She could not take her eyes off him.

Marcel crossed the court and shook Sir Arthur’s hand vigorously. He left, entering the other side where the spectators continued to cheer as they greeted him. The redhead glared after him, huffing and puffing in exhaustion.

The duke was at once surrounded by admirers who were storming him with inquiries. He brushed past them to stand in front of the princess and bowed. Madeleine gazed down at the luscious head of hair.

“It has been an honor to have the princess attend the match this fine day.” He lowered himself onto one knee and offered her a small, decorated box that had been previously hidden away in his sleeve. “A token of my gratitude.”

She looked down at it hesitantly. “A gift from a champion?” Those that had been previously swarming Marcel looked over at the princess with jealous eyes. “Duke Marcel, I accept your token.” She took the box from him.

He stood, taking both her hands in his and pressing his forehead to them in the formal Elderian greeting. “Dance with me at court tonight, Princess. Your humble duke implores you.”

She cleared her throat. “W-we shall see. I’ll send word of my acceptance if that is the case.”

He smirked out of the side of his mouth. “I will wait with bated breath, Your Highness.” Bowing again, Marcel left her side, and his fans followed after him.

The rouge in her cheeks had spread to her ears.

♛♚♛

“Duke Marcel offered to dance with you,” Courtney asked incredulously, “and you accepted?”

The older sister was in her bed, and Madeleine sat on the edge of it.

“I suppose I did.”

Her sister’s mouth was agape. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“You should have seen him on the court.” Stars poked through the barred windows and lit up her face.

“Didn’t Sir Luis le Blanc invite you to that dance first? He must have been devastated when you refused him for a younger man.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, well.”

Courtney snorted. “I’ve heard of Duke Marcel. He’s notoriously charming.”

“Is he?”

“And handsome.”

“So what?”

“So, he’s the most eligible bachelor in Andveltica right now.”

Madeleine considered this before pulling out the small box wrapped in brightly colored ribbons. “He gave me this.”

They both stared at it.

“Have you opened it yet?”

She shook her head, carefully removing the ribbons and pulling off the jewel-encrusted lid. Inside was a silver turtle the size of her thumb covered in small rubies and sapphires. Miniscule golden leaves wound around the shell and the two sisters gawked at it.

“It’s beautiful,” Madeleine said softly.

“A proposal gift can’t be far behind!”

Her body tensed at that. “We just met, Courtney! This is exactly why I hate Court. Things move way too fast for my taste.”

“Madi, you’d be out of your mind to refuse him if he asked.”

“Would I?” She breathed out. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should put priority on these things now while I have somewhat of a choice in the matter.”

Courtney hesitated, a sadness creeping over her face. “You’re thinking of my betrothal. I know I should have told you about it before—”

“No, really, it’s okay,” she said gently. “I understand why you didn’t.”

She let out a sigh. “I just thought I had more time, but I am the eldest daughter after all. It makes sense they would want to marry me off. When Mother announced it this morning, I was so overwhelmed, Madi.”

“I can imagine.”

“I just don’t know what else there is for me out there. I’ve been so sickly these past five years. Maybe with a suitor I won’t be such a burden to everyone.”

Madeline blinked. “Courtney, you’re not a burden. You’re physically ill. That’s not your fault, and you are delightful to be around. There is definitely more for you out there. Your happiness matters too, you know that, right?”

She gave a weak smile. “Thanks, but don’t worry about me. Besides, we were talking about you remember and this exciting new suitor.”

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want—”

“I want to.”

“I don’t know how I feel about it.” She breathed out a sigh. “It’s just…I don’t think I’ll ever be truly open or happy with any man.” Her thoughts turned to the hidden garden in Nebrasia; Adrian beside her. His words echoed in her ears again. “Whatever happens, we’re still friends, okay?”

If Duke Marcel or any other man in Andveltica intended on marrying her, she could never reveal anything she’d learned about her mother or the pain she suffered because of that revelation. There was only one other person in all of Elderian who knew of the secret she kept.

“I’m just feeling a bit hopeless about the future,” Madeleine added. “I’m nervous about the whole idea of being married, especially since you’ve been married off so suddenly to someone you’ve never even seen before. It feels frantic.”

Courtney looked crestfallen. “It’s really not, Madi, and I cannot be the helpless royal invalid forever. I am fulfilling my duties as a princess of Andveltica. In this matter, I actually have some control over my life. I can choose to embrace this change and start something new.” She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself more than her sister. “Besides, I’ve never been interested in courting anyway. This was my wakeup call, I suppose. It’s just marriage. Every woman goes through it, you know.” She said, go through it as though it were another illness she had to overcome.

Madeleine blinked at the defeated expression. There was silence and she looked down at her hands in thought.

♛♚♛

The next evening, the maids were hustling back and forth carrying skirts, hair pieces, and jewelry.

By the end, Madeleine looked positively vain. She wore a royal blue gown entwined with silver thread and enormous puffed white sleeves. Her brown hair was swept away behind a blue bonnet pinned to her head. The dress had a low neckline and, on her neck, rested a black choker.

Lips rouged and eyes painted, the ethereal being slipped a traveling robe over her shoulders with the help of the maids.

“It is time, Ma’am,” Arielle said, and Madeleine’s face glowed more than ever. “You look beautiful.”

“I do feel fit for the part,” she replied, admiring herself in the mirror.

“Perhaps he will kiss you tonight!” a younger maid with copper-toned skin named Anne burst out, and the princess’s heart skipped a beat.

“P-perhaps.” Her reply was accompanied by many shrieks.

“Oh Princess,” Arielle said. “A proposal can’t be far away.”

There were a couple more shrieks followed by an awkward silence in which Madeleine looked down at her lace-lined sleeves and said nothing.

“That will do, thank you.”

The maids left her, and she stared out the open window nearest to her, not moving.

The dark, grimy bars could be seen on the other side of the pane and her insides tightened at the sight of them. Rain streamed down the glass and a familiar feeling arose in her throat.

When she finally moved from her spot, it was to stand at the windowsill, looking longingly at the royal stables. Anxiety spreading through her, she pulled out the little turtle and fiddled with it in her fingers.

Marcel waited for her with another gift. Behind him was a large stage where a flute, viol, lute, and oboe tuned their instruments to one another. She politely took the ruby encrusted box and beamed at the pair of silver hair clips inside then up into his handsome face.

The princess dismissed her escorts and was led to the back of the concert hall by her dashing suitor. To her slight dismay however, they took their seats at the very back of the room where the instrumentalists were not as easy to make out.

“Marcel, why don’t we sit nearer to the stage?” she asked earnestly.

He hastily offered the chair to her, but she simply stared at it. “Oh, my dear princess,” he coerced. “It’s more exciting to see who all is attending, and I’ve also heard the back of a concert hall has the best acoustics.”

Madeleine stared at the chair a while longer before hesitantly sitting down.

After a few more minutes, the seats in the front filled up while the back two rows remained scarce save for the conspicuous couple. The musicians became silent, and Madeleine sat on the edge of her seat, craning her neck to see.

The quartet opened with a lively jigg, and she was transported to another world immediately, a calmness spreading over her face. She forgot Marcel for the moment and thought of her horse Monique and the jungle path they usually took.

Unsurprisingly, her thoughts then turned to Adrian, steering her charging horse away from the castle wall; his young, brave face beaming at her. Each note took her to a different place with the young boy. His young face looked at her lovingly. The face of a child. The face of a friend who understood her.

She nearly jumped out of her seat when an unknown hand slipped into hers.

The musicians played on as the poor, flustered woman could only stare ahead, a red tint staining her cheeks. She let her eyes fall down to her lap, then gazed at their entwined hands and finally up to Marcel’s face. It was not the face of a child, but a man who had seen and done many things. It was not a comforting face then, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to run away.

All that permeated her thoughts was, Things are going too fast.

She swallowed hard as he leaned towards her. Dark eyes glanced down at her mouth, and she stiffened. Her heart beat leapt into her throat

Too fast. Too fast.

She pulled away as soon as their lips touched and stood abruptly, her face flushed. Without a word, she stormed out of the hall shamefacedly, the music still continuing behind her.

Madeleine sprinted across the castle lawn, rain pounding down on her, and found that her now wet, heavy dress was doing her no favors. Pure anxiety coursed through her veins; her head spinning with a million thoughts. She was having a hard time controlling her rapid breathing.

A voice called after her and a moment later, Marcel grabbed her hand.

She turned to him, snatching it back. “That’s enough touching for tonight I think,” she said shrilly.

His hair was soaked, and his bewildered face was very handsome then. “Whatever is the matter?” She did not answer. “Everything was going so well. What happened?”

“It most certainly was not.” Her voice trembled as she looked into his eyes. “I couldn’t even see the quartet and it was all so you could make a move. I doubt you even wanted to hear the musicians play.”

“That’s why you left?” He stared at her incredulously. “I thought that was what you wanted. We’re courting. Why shouldn’t I be able to kiss you?”

She stared at him. “A-and...I suppose a proposal is not far behind?”

There was a pause.

“Well, yes. It’s expected, is it not?” She turned to look at the castle. “Isn’t that why you came to Court in the first place? And the concert…Madeleine, all along, you’ve given me every inclination that you wanted—”

“I did not,” she interrupted, looking back at him. “We just met yesterday! I don’t even know you, Marcel. Why can’t we just be friends first and forget all this about duty and proposals and take it at our own pace?”

“Friends? Madeleine, we are not children, and I have done nothing wrong. I am acting simply as a young man should. Perhaps you should follow my lead and wake up from this fantasy you seem to be trapped in.”

She bristled at that, biting her lip. “Forget it. I’ve had enough of men and duty.” His expression turned impatient. “I’d rather die alone than be swept up by someone who only ever does what is expected of him and what other people tell him to do. Why, I’d say you can't even make up your own mind for yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” He stepped closer to her, his own temper leaking out. “You should know your place. Your future is the same as any royal before you. You cannot change what is to become of you. It’s time to grow up and face reality.”

Madeleine shrunk back and she imagined the bars on her much-hated windows over her now.

There was silence save for the pounding of rain, and out of anxious habit she pulled the turtle out of her sleeve and played with it. With realization of what she was doing, she deliberately and ceremoniously let the turtle slip through her fingers into the grass, and faintly remembered the silver clips had been left on her chair at the concert.

“I have not been married off yet,” she spat, and Marcel glared at the metal glint in the grass. “I still have some freedom left, and I won’t be throwing it away on you.”

“Don’t do anything rash.”

She scoffed in disdain. “This is the last you’ll be hearing from me, Duke Marcel Leroy.” She turned and stormed off.

Slogging all the way back to the castle in the pouring rain, the water weighed her down just like the dread that now hung over her.

♛♚♛

“Princess Madeleine,” the messenger boy’s voice rang out after he entered her room, “King Abel is asking for the princesses to attend a meeting right away.”

“Father?” Madeleine looked flabbergasted. “He wants to meet with us? Surely not tonight.” He nodded. “But, why?”

“I do not know the details, but it was deemed urgent.”

Madeleine looked perplexed. “Father never wishes to see us. His frequent traveling, his intense care for his country; it’s always made him too busy for us.” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll leave right away then.” She rushed from the study and made her way to the king’s council room.

She came to sit down beside her sister who she found out was equally shocked by the news. At the large table were seated a few important looking councilmen who wore white robes representing the political court of Andveltica. An empty seat stood to the left of where Queen Nicole sat, whose gaze Madeleine avoided.

A sudden hush fell over them as an impressive man stepped through the doorway, a long cloak trailing behind him. The king looked nothing like his children. He had piercing blue eyes that lurked under heavy eyebrows and chestnut-colored hair. His white face turned towards Madeleine, but his eyes never fell on her. King Abel brought a strong presence to the room that seemed to loom over everyone like an intimidating fog.

“I have made a decision regarding the request from West Nebrasia.” His voice echoed off the walls and every eye followed him.

Nebrasia?

“In order to create stability, King Adrian has suggested an alliance and accompanying negotiations between Andveltica, Cappeland, and Nebrasia. He calls it the Elderian Triple Alliance. It’s a specific call to action for the three big nations to band together to support and protect one another against aggressive nations. King Adrian is still very young and inexperienced, and not to mention, vulnerable to attacking nations. Nebrasia is a highly desirable land. Our country too, faces minor attacks but we have geographical advantages.”

“There has been some movement to overthrow King Adrian. Large raids have been occurring more frequently as well as aggressive talk, mostly from Venwick. The king asks for our protection, a share of resources, and our loyalty. He is very wise to make this decision now, while there is still stability in Nebrasia and while the attacks are still controllable. Cappeland has already accepted. These negotiations could take a while, so those traveling to Nebrasia will be there a couple months at least. The representative courts of each country will meet to discuss the specifics in the alliance while there. It is a six-day journey, so the party will leave in a few days’ time.”

Madeleine cocked her head to one side. “And how, My King,” she projected boldly, “does this concern the princesses of Andveltica?”

Heads turned in her direction.

The king considered her for a moment before answering. “The alliance treaty is to be signed at the West Nebrasian Castle and for the signing of such an important document, all the Andveltican and Cappeland royals are required to attend. This is for symbolic reasons as well as political.”

Her eyes widened as she tried to wrap her head around this information. “We are to travel to Nebrasia then?”

“In a few days’ time, yes.”

“And…shall the princesses be attending the negotiation meetings as well?”

The king’s eyes lit up and a tenderness crept over his face. “I’ve been told how eloquent you are on the subject of politics, Princess Madeleine.” She stared at her father, never having heard a compliment uttered from his lips before. “That being said, to answer your question, I think not. The members of the king’s council have already been chosen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Madeleine answered, looking at her father for a moment then at nothing, deep in thought. As the king continued his speech, she found herself somewhere else, barely noticing when the meeting had finally adjourned.

Disoriented, Madeleine made her way to her room, trying to take it all in.

After her maids helped her out of her dress, she paced around the room in her chemise, occasionally stopping to glance out the window. She eventually made it under her covers, laying for hours, waiting for sleep that would never come.

She’d been dreaming for so long about the young prince, and yet she’d never expected to see Adrian again, nor did she think she’d temporarily escape her fast paced, high stress, courting reality. It was all too much to take in right now. Giving up on getting any kind of rest, she got up and made her way to the castle library which was only a corridor away from hers after getting dressed.

Her eyes itched now as she pulled books and manuscripts from the shelves.

The carved marble and ornate etchings in the walls surrounded her as she continued to gather political titles she found interesting in an attempt to take her mind off things. She strolled through rows and rows of books, and after a while, sank onto a bench near a statue of a tall man with long hair.

She set the massive stack of books she’d collected next to her, sighing.

The stoic, bearded face of the statue stared down at her with empty, marble eyes. On the inscription read the name, Hans Fox. A bittersweet nostalgia swept over her as she thought of her younger self reading starry-eyed about the great leader on her way to Nebrasia.

She then stared ahead with hazy eyes. As she did so, her gaze fell on the shelf behind the statue and onto a book with a bright cover. She aimlessly read it out loud. “Nebrasian maps and trading routes.”

She blinked, then stood, making her way over to the book. Wondering what a title like this was doing in the science collection, she pulled it out.

“Must have been misshelved,” she murmured, flipping through the pages.

A small yellow corner stuck out at the top of one of the pages like some kind of bookmark. Confused, she grasped it in her fingers and pulled out a sheet of paper. On the yellowed parchment was a message marked in ink:

It is not safe. We must leave our traces in hidden script. Only then can we remain concealed. Look for my fire and you will know I am waiting at our place.

She turned the page over, but it was blank. Scrunching her face, she noticed a small date in the upper corner.

The note was over thirty years old!

Adrenaline shot through her veins, and she thought perhaps in her last few days before the journey to Nebrasia, the dismal castle with its bars and rules held some new exciting and terrible secret that she was determined to uncover.