Timoth guided me to his living room and his servant set up some chairs beside the fireplace.

'What brings you here, sister?' he asked me.

'I've had an awful day,' I began. I realised that I should have thought about what I was going to say before I walked to his house. I certainly didn't want to tell him that Prince Alum had spent the night at mine. Unless he already knew, which wouldn't have surprised me. But I’d already paused too long.

'I heard that Prince Alum stayed overnight at your house,' Timoth said, confirming my suspicions. I felt relieved that I didn't have to sidestep around it, even though his face was accusatory.

'Nothing happened,' I quickly assured him. 'He just got a bit drunk and I let him stay the night rather than stumble home.'

'Saemara…' Timoth began. His face had taken on a hue similar to Father's, and I realised that he’d changed somewhat during our time at Hollowhold. I wondered how I'd changed. 'I know your intention was to be kind, but you must think about what the consequences of your actions can be.'

I bowed my head in shame. 'I know. What do you think I should do?'

'I don't know,' he admitted, but then he cocked his head to the side and his eyes rolled to the top right corner of his forehead in contemplation. Eventually, he said, 'you shouldn't see Prince Alum again.'

'But that's not fair!' I cried, startling him. 'Nothing happened!'

'I know, Saemara. But Mother and Father aren't here to help you fix your mistakes. You need to show some self-restraint and fix them yourself,' Timoth urged me. His tone was free of judgement despite his words, and I appreciated that.

One of his servants approached bearing a glass of wine which Timoth accepted, and I said, 'I'll have one too.'

'Saemara…' Timoth began again, but I silenced him with one look. Silence reigned as we waited for Timoth's servant to bring me a glass of wine. When it arrived, I sipped at it and found it not to my liking. Still, to save face I made certain to sip at it regularly so that I would eventually empty the cup.

'When can I see Prince Alum again?' I asked him.

'Not for some time,' he responded. His tone had some finality, but he quickly realised that I sought something more specific. 'You probably shouldn't see him until you're nearly of age. As we will be leaving a few weeks before you come of age to return home, you will probably only be able to approach him in about twelve months, and only for a week or two. Any earlier would invite further controversy.'

I sighed, accepting the wisdom of his words. 'What about Duke Wilbern?'

'What about him?'

'What do you think of him?'

'Has he approached you, Saemara?'

I nodded. 'This morning, after Prince Alum left. He presented me with his suit, apparently backed by Prince Milos and the Vizonian Order.'

'The Vizonian Order?!' Timoth exclaimed in surprise. He stood from his chair and paced the room. 'Why would the Vizonian Order care who you marry?'

'I thought to ask Highfather Ioran that very question, but I knew he’d just say that Wilbern needs a good wife to stabilise the Duchy of Trent, and that I need a husband who can provide Haelling Cove with soldiers,' I replied.

'But those things are not his concern,' Timoth explained. 'It sits uneasily with me. The Vizonians have taken a strange interest in our town and in our house of late. It makes me very uncomfortable.'

'Then you oppose the possibility of a union between myself and Duke Wilbern?' I asked, completely ignoring his thoughts on a deeper conspiracy.

'Why do you say that?' he asked me, sitting back down and draining the rest of his glass. It was replaced with a full one by his servant.

'Well… Prince Alum has provided Haelling Cove with soldiers. Duke Wilbern is supported by the Vizonian Order. I know who I'd prefer,' I said with a sly grin, because I did know who I'd prefer.

'It is not as simple as that, Saemara. We must try not to offend important political players by scorning Duke Wilbern, or by courting Prince Alum too openly,' Timoth explained.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I sighed again. I felt more comfortable and secure with Timoth, and wished that I could spend the rest of the night here. Alum's blatant refusal and blunt dissociation had hurt me, and I didn't want to sleep in the bed he'd occupied the previous night. After a while, I realised that silence had befallen our conversation and I took advantage of the opportunity to speak to him.

'Have you heard much from Mother and Father?' I asked.

He shook his head, 'nothing interesting. A Frostlander longboat passed down the Haelling a few weeks ago. The Western Islander raids seem to have subsided for a time, at least.'

'Why would they stop?' I asked him, and he shrugged. That seemed like a dead end, so I changed the topic. 'Have you been courting any ladies?'

He laughed. 'No. There are no Duchesses here who are likely to inherit, and I think Father would prefer if I married a Reach landowner, as he did, if I am otherwise to wed a mere Countess.'

'A mere Countess,' I raised an eyebrow, and he laughed again.

'Most counties do not have the autonomy of Ebonreach,' Timoth stammered, but then he realised that I was poking fun at him. It was his turn to change the topic of discussion. 'How are your lessons? How big is your portal realm?'

I beamed at this question. 'Big. I haven't measured it, but I can lay down and roll over comfortably. I've been going there between lessons to keep my tan.'

Timoth rolled his eyes. 'I keep mine stocked with food, water, and swords. Just in case.'

I laughed. 'I have a mind to fill mine with sand so that I can close my eyes and pretend that I’m back on the beach at Haelling Cove. Why would you ever need food or swords?'

Timoth briefly raised his eyebrows. 'Any number of reasons. I escape into my portal to avoid capture, having to wait there for months for the enemy to drop their guard. Or this house could collapse under the weight of the mountain, and I might have to wait in my potal until rescuers clear away the wreckage.'

'Seems silly to me,' I said, but pressed no further as portals were simply not something that you mocked someone for.

The conversation went quiet again, and I finished my glass of wine. The wall clock displayed a late hour and I gave Timoth my farewell.

'Get a good night's sleep, and don't worry too much about it. Another year and everything will be different,' Timoth advised me, and I felt my face shift to a smile. He had succeeded in lifting my spirits.

'Goodnight,' I bade him.

'Goodnight, Saemara,' he replied, closing the door.

I turned and trudged back to the women's quarter. When I got home, I immediately trudged up the stairs and undressed, taking the time to hang my clothes up in the cupboard properly. That simple gesture made me feel like I was taking control of my life, and I faced myself in the mirror as if to prove to myself that I’d come through the day in one piece. As sleep took me, I thought about the year ahead, and how I would have to restrain from satiating my desire to see Prince Alum.

----------------------------------------

A few weeks later I made my first and only observation of King Degron Goldmane.

A foreign delegation had come to visit the capital and the King had prepared a banquet for all of the resident nobles in honour of the visitors. They had travelled by ship from a land far to the east of Halivaara called Nakhtare, and their women wore a strange silk garment comprised of a single length of cloth draped lengthways across their left shoulder so that it fell over both sides of their body. It was fastened at either side of their hips by an unseen strap on the underside of the silk. The men wore silk and linen jackets not dissimilar to the Halivaaran fashion except that they fell all the way to their knees. The colouring of these outfits was very bright, usually orange, gold, and purple. Some of the women had ruby-like gems embedded in their cheeks, giving the appearance of extravagant dimples.

The Queen was not present, and the King looked as if he should not be. He had been heavily laden with makeup but a woman's eye is discerning of such trickery, and I could tell that his face was scarred with unnatural blemishes and wrinkles. When he gave the introductory address he took long pauses to breathe and never lifted his hand from the table, as though he relied upon it to remain standing. The Nakhtarans did not seem to mind, though I could scarcely understand their heavily accented words.

Sadly, as a lesser noble from a regional county, I did not speak to the foreign delegates. Perhaps because Prince Milos had organised the banquet, I was seated between Duke Wilbern and Count Timoth. To Wilbern's left was another noblewoman from a Mattrath estate, and to Timoth's right was a ruler from a northern Hollintay county. Timoth as indulged in the sharing of military exploits and tactics with the Hollintay man, whereas Wilbern neglected the lady to his left in favour of showering me with attention. It was an awkward situation, though I can't deny that I relished being made to feel important to someone.

For the most part, Wilbern's almost usual awkwardness and strangeness was restrained by the formality of the occasion, though there were still times that I was made to feel uncomfortably self-aware. One time, when I failed to respond to one of his comments, he compared me to a shy mouse, which served only to call to mind the rumours of his childhood rat-hound fights. I resorted to the drinking of much wine, though I did not relish the taste of the vintage.

Truly, Wilbern did not seem an evil man. It was possible that his awkward manner stemmed from shyness, or from being dazzled by my beauty – for I was wearing a most elegant and low-cut dress for that occasion – yet as we both relaxed over the course of the evening his strangeness remained.

'Your hair is like a Hollintay waterfall,' he would say, attempting poetry.

I did appreciate his attempts at flattery. The trouble was, he seemed to have little else to say to me. When I spoke of contemporary matters of politics or gossip, he would always find a way to turn the conversation back to my appearance, his opinion of some aspect of it, or the potential for our wedding. I was left with no idea of how he would be as a husband, once I was an everyday thing and the need for flattery had passed. It seemed unlikely that his bard-style courting would continue if I were to give myself to him. It made me uneasy, as if there were no way to know him unless I wed him. Why couldn’t he just relax?