I'm woken up by the sound of my gurgling stomach. Like a moth drawn to a flame I head to the kitchens and grab a piece of white bread with cheese on it. It's the usual meal – whenever I wish to avoid family. Auretta disapproves – says it's bad for my health to eat such foods. I disagree. If people outside the capital eat it, and stay healthy, then why shouldn't I from time to time? But I learned my lesson long ago – if I'm told not to do something, and I really want to, I'll do it discreetly. Ever since that happened, Auretta hasn't been particularly strict on my dietary restrictions. It was never her place to do so, but was my governess's, who left when I was fourteen. Mother never truly helped me growing up. Being queen consort is a full-time job, and Mother took it very seriously. Now Spica is growing up, and I suspect the royal consort's timetable has become less full.

Concerning food, and other important things, I still prefer following rules rather than breaking them for fun. Friends from my past used to be like this, though: breaking them all for the sake of it. Didn't end well for most. Some got away with it and now they're out of the Academy, building their careers as diviners or sculptors. While I stay here, unchanged and the very same. Maybe it's for the best; someone has to be disciplined for the state to keep working like our ancestors planned.

As I walk back to my chambers in an empty hall, I hear a voice, "Your Highness?"

A long haired, disheveled servant comes up to me, holding a scroll. It has the king's seal.

"Yes?"

"From the king. It's urgent," the young man seems distressed. I take it and dismiss him. For better or for worse I'll read it alone. As I open the scroll my eyes go wide.

'The knight died in the hospital last night. One of my ministers chose a replacement; I suggest you get acquainted with him immediately. And don't forget: tomorrow we depart at dawn. Dress in the nicest garments you possess, you will give your long-awaited speech.'

Died? From losing blood or?.. Maybe he did lose his eyes in the freak accident. I shrug after the initial shock passes. "I swear to..." I stop myself from speaking out loud and, still holding the scroll that smells of mint, head to the barracks.

Our knights live fancy. It's a four storey building. The entrance hall is rustic styled and smells of wood. The common rooms resemble those of Aquamarine. The chandeliers illuminate the decorative statues, as tall as my arm, and vases, granting the residents a perpetual bewitching atmosphere. Guards are resting on the linen sofas and armchairs. I try to make my entrance as natural and discreet as possible. One of the knights takes notice of me and gets up, saluting me.

"Hello," I speak up. "I'm here to see our new knight,"

The recruit in question is in the west corner of the chamber. He looks unbothered by my presence. Everyone looks at him, as he cleans his knee protection. The way he strides towards me can only be described as confident, as if he never felt the need to bow. Put him in satin robes and he could pass for a prince. His helmet shines under the dim light. For some reason, I feel ashamed. I did not dress properly to welcome new members of the knight order. I'm in a navy blue blouse with large sleeves and a high-waisted skirt that falls down to my ankles. I'm not wearing the diadem I'm supposed to for such occasions. "What is your name, good sir?"

The knight stands straight and bows mechanically. "Demus, Your Highness," his voice is crisp. "May I ask why I have the honor?"

One of the knights' eyes widen but I pay it no mind. "By the king's orders I must acquaint myself with every recruit. It's tradition,"

"I'm no recruit, though," I can see a smirk under the helm, through the large lines of the silver metal. His tone is unbearable, but I smile nonetheless.

"Of course. Please, follow me,"

As we walk through the lower levels of the castle, I find myself unable to speak. His presence is new, and it unnerves me. He is not supposed to be here. I knew Sir Faxon, he was not a friend, but a person I knew I could trust. This man was new to our traditions and the castle itself. I mentally hit myself on the cheek to stop letting the ungrateful thoughts have control over me. Sir Faxon is no more, shall his soul rest in peace. I wonder if he had a family, I wonder if they miss him. I will accept his replacement with the whole graciousness of my royal heart.

"I-"

"You-"

We speak at the same time, and I stifle a laugh. "Sorry, go on,"

Demus nods and his eyes focus on the ornate door leading to the library. "I was not aware it was tradition for someone of your... rank to greet lowly knights,"

"A knight is anything but lowly," I speak, surprise evident in my voice. "We have always respected their contribution to our lives. Knights represent the best of the best, they are the elite soldiers and, some, obtain higher ranks than nobility, so to speak."

"Oh," he mutters. "I beg your pardon,"

"No need. So? You're the replacement for Sir Faxon..." I start but he cuts me off.

"I've been put here by minister Jenn,"

"And why were you chosen to replace one of our oldest and most respected knights?"

He doesn't move an inch. His eyes bear an emotion I cannot read. The helmets were designed to hide the faces of the knights, but instead of hiding identities, they end up hiding emotions. it's the very same, isn't it? "Because I'm more than capable of doing my duty," his response is curt and I feel I've offended him. However, I fail to see where.

"Alright, Sir Demus. You are dismissed,"

"That's it? No more questions regarding my right to be here?" He is outright mocking me. I clamp my hands together. I breathe in harshly.

"That's it."

Demus stands straight, watching me. Without a moment of hesitation, I turn around and leave, my heels clacking on the tinted glass floor. I feel something burning inside my chest. I feel it subside as I get into the gardens. The pine trees tower above me, enveloping me in their thin shadows. I take in a big breath and exhale. I whisper West's name and he appears in front of me, dressed in a dark long coat and shadowguards issued pants. The boots make him taller than he already is.

"What's wrong?" he asks, keeping a distance between us. I lower my head and shake it.

"Nothing serious. The new knight was mean. Just needed to vent."

"Mean?" his voice breaks and a worry plasters on his face. Something flicks in his eyes.

"Weird," I shrug.

West lets out an annoyed breath. "What do you mean he was mean? You're the princess, he has no right."

"I know," I shamefully cover my face, moving my bust left to right. "I just don't know how to act when people are like this. What am I supposed to do? Tell him to get back to work in a stern voice?"

"You're kidding, right?" The shadowguard purses his lips. "When people are mean to you, you punish them. Or you call me, and I do it for you,"

I smile and brush my hand against his. It's gloved, as always, but I still feel the chill. I know they hide black painted fingers and wrists. "It's not in your job description."

"You don't know what's in my job description." His devilish smile and light tone make me feel a tad better. I smile back.

"There is no need for punishment." My words are stern, but my eyes are still smiling.

West watches me intently and nods after deliberating. "As you wish, Your Highness. I apologize." I glare at his self-assured expression. "That is how you talk to your princess."

"Is there anything else?" He asks. I shake my head and whisper,

"Are you free tonight?"

"For you? Always."

"Good. Wait for my signal."

I smirk and leave him be. As soon as I turn around, I hear a rustling of leaves, and without checking behind me, I know he's gone.

***

I spent the rest of the day meeting with my old tutors. They all came to the palace to check on the skills they spent years perfecting. Magic is now an afterthought, as I don't need it on a daily basis. Talking in public and writing speeches, that, I will be doing pretty much every day after tomorrow. Dancing too. The first step to be officially named the future queen.

Malachite's monarchy is simple, with only a small amount of exceptions. Wholly, it is the same monarchy as in Beryl or Obsidian, and other kingdoms on the continent. But, there is a tradition. To name the descendant, the heir, only after they graduate their school of choice, or if they were born with magic, the Academy. Before that, even if you are the first born, you will be called crown-prince or princess, but not officially. My whole life was filled with people addressing me as the heir, the crown-princess, the future beautiful queen of Malachite.

My brother was never even considered for the role. Rigel is sixteen. Five years younger than me, and much less prepared to take the crown. It was never an option, anyway. Father always considered me the one. No matter that I was a girl, I was his firstborn and that meant everything. Why he had thrown that old tradition out of the window, I'll never know. Mother told me to be grateful and to accept that burden - I'm lucky I liked the idea of being queen from the very start. Otherwise I would have been the rebel child I've read books about.

Those stories seemed out of this world, those about young kids deciding freedom cannot be found in their title, but in the valleys of adventure, fighting and war. I would never run from this duty. Not even in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined myself being a peasant, or even a working class citizen. No adventure called to me, no war or danger thrilled me. Moreso, I was a woman, and such manly things were not for me. If men wanted to spend their lives fighting over some territory - so be it, but I much more prefer reading and wearing cute dresses rather than go on a four months long hike.

Being a female royal was better in Malachite than in other kingdoms. So, I never complained about my rank. Its weight symbolized potential improvements in my kingdom, its shape would be chosen by the route I take, of how I rule. And I know I'll rule wisely and justly, with candor. Because how else?

The law professor arrived sooner than the rest. He greeted me with his usual half-smile and a handshake. Thank the spirits Mother was not here to see such a display of informality. But Professor Seyl was never the one to bow to others. He always stood tall and taught well. I respected him. Even if sometimes I wanted to remind him who was truly in charge. Wishful thinking, of course it wasn't me. I was not yet crowned.

The others arrived in a group. They greeted me with bows and congratulations. I smiled back, laughing and participating in small talk. Then the dreaded questions were asked. "How is the speech going?" "How are your dancing skills?" "Do you still practice the flute and the piano?" "How do you feel about current affairs with the Fae Isles?"

I responded how I had to. Calm and collected, rehearsed words leaving my lips. We were served tea at the gardens, around us sun's rays reflected on the trees' falling leaves. The air was nice to the lungs and, I think, everybody had a great time. I was no longer their student, and no longer a responsibility. I guess they were happy about that too.

I was not always an ace student, but I tried hard. I always did my assignments, never missed a lesson, always listened and asked pertinent questions. But being responsible for the upbringing of your future queen meant a lot of pressure on their shoulders. They might not realize it, but I felt how they worried about my grades being sent directly to Father and Mother, who would either judge me for slacking off, or the teachers, who were incompetent. It was mostly the former.

So questions pended; did they succeed at teaching me everything a human brain can store, or did they fail at some point in time, leaving a messy trail of unknowns and doubts? Sometimes the bricks were not well glued together, and the whole house crumbled. We had to restart the course, for me to grasp the basic bricks right - so the houses I'll build would be steady.

They left a few hours later, after I demonstrated my music, my paintings, my exam essays about law, economy and advancing magical technologies. Sometimes I wondered if my life would have been easier if I was not bestowed with magic. Instead of wholly concentrating on the crown, I had to learn of the energies that ran through my veins, and how to control them. Such a petty thing for me to think about. To whine about things beyond my control, to feel sorry for myself when those who lived normal lives probably wished to take my place every single day. I bite my lower lip nervously.

I was tired beyond belief, but still went to dinner. Seeing my family already gathered in the throne room that served as our dining hall made me feel a little less cranky, but only for a minute.

It was the very same painting every day. Mother taught Spica how to hold her utensils, how to properly eat snails, or how to cut meat without splattering the juices on her outfit. Father spoke to Rigel about the awful fate of Sir Faxon, in great detail. I decided to listen in.

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"Wait, so, the other knight's weapon got stuck in the ring and sir Faxon rode right into it? Couldn't he stop the horse?"

I missed the moments the knights got on horseback, for the last three minutes of the tournament. I was too busy looking everywhere but at the ring.

"Apparently, it all happened too fast. Nobody truly knows how it happened. It seems it was blurry for everyone,"

"How could the whole stadium miss the accident?" I ask, looking to my left, right at Father's eyes. They were kind when Rigel sat beside him.

"People were getting tired, and nobody was paying much attention." I raise my eyebrows at such insulting behavior. "To my surprise, too, Norella."

I nod and look back at my plate. I was full, and talking about the freak accident made my stomach gurgle in a very crude manner. I decided to stop trying to finish the lamb's leg. Pieces of half-eaten meat dangling from the yellowish bone.

"Won't you finish the plate?" Mother glances at me, cutting some of the meat off the bone for Spica.

"No, excuse me," I lower my head. She responds nothing. I take it as a sign I am once more left to my own devices.

Even though I am sleepy, I head to the garden square, where I sit by the fountain. I try to find a dry spot, so I don't smudge dirt on my skirt. I whisper West's name under my breath and there he is, in front of me.

We spent an hour together. He brought strawberries and champagne, and in another world I would have asked him about the source, but right then and there I couldn't care less. We went to a very private part of the royal gardens, where I often worked during holidays. His kisses were sweet and his eyes hypnotizing. We cuddled under the moonlight and I felt true peace. Nearly fell asleep in his arms too. He had to carry me back to my chambers under the invisible cloaking.

It was the first time he saw my room. I was too tired to act welcoming, so he gently put me on the bed and kissed me goodnight. It was sweeter than foreign honey wine.

I fell asleep happily that night. My mind had no time to wander into its maze. But if it did, I would have thought of how wonderful it would be for us to live in a nice mansion, without prying eyes of my family. I had no clue whether they knew about the depth of our friendship. I did not dare wish to live as a recluse like Aunt Verse, because I won't make changes that are so important to me.

***

The trees surrounding our carriage wept yellow and red leaves. My eyes darted from one bush to another. The road was five hours long and Father seemed quite annoyed. The thin crown laid on his temples, glowing every time a ray of sun slithered into the carriage. The city we're visiting is one of the most promising in terms of agriculture. A huge rural area surrounds it, granting us wheat and peas. They're in season too, so we are to visit the rabi plantations.

Father once said that without the hard work of farmers we would fall into famine due to Fae kingdom cutting supplies. He never said why they did, though. Now the Isles cutting exported goods seems like a distant-yet-to-be-nightmare as we face a very prosperous winter.

We arrive at the main gates, separating the rural area from the urban one. A crowd of enthusiastic citizens gathers around, welcoming us with big smiles and an air of awe besieges the square. I smile at them, waving and greeting people. They throw us flowers, some of which I collect and hold to my chest.

I feel a chilly presence, and note not to make a fool of myself on the podium. East accompanied us here today. West had some business to take care of, and we did not more than one bodyguard for such a nice visit. I didn't get to ask West about his work outside of protecting me. These shadowguards keep the secrets well and profiles very low.

Father waves at the crowd and follows the minister. By law, every city, no matter how small, had a minister. They took care of the infrastructure and collected taxes, that were sent to the palace's treasury. Most of the money we received went to public healthcare (if it could be called that, we possessed very little medicine), and public education.

This minister is old enough to be my great-grandfather, walking slowly, pain in his ankles clear to the naked eye. Years of minister's work burn through his skin, and he wears it like a medal.

"It is such an honor to have you visit us, Your Majesty, Your Highness," the man exclaims, leading us towards the main plaza. A small wooden arena was built for our arrival. The dark wood is engraved with deers and rabbits, the precious animals of the area.

"Nice stage," Father chuckles close to my ear. I nod a little nervously.

I stand there, in front of a crowd, their eyes set on me. Today I'm wearing a pine green ankle-long dress, embroidered with hickory accents. A comfortable and down to earth outfit for visiting fields. The metal welt of my boots scrapes the carefully carved wood and I silently apologize to the workers. After taking a breath, I start to speak.

"Citizens of Northminster, I am happy to be visiting such an important piece of Malachite," I glance at the king, who nods in silent approval. "I stand before you, humble and willing to learn. I will be accompanying the king to the farms – to make sure that any needs of our subjects are met. My life's purpose is to spread love, knowledge and peace." I breathe out and continue. "Wearing the crown is a lifetime job, a difficult one, but I studied and am willing to study for the rest of my days, to fulfill the needs of my future subjects and lead Malachite towards the prosperous future it deserves!"

A loud roar of applause takes over the plaza and I feel my cheeks burn. I smile, a hand to my chest, I bow to them. They seem so happy – which makes my heart flutter in anticipation of my rule. It won't come tomorrow, but at least, I won their enthusiasm today.

The fields are dirty and uncomfortable. Still, I try to keep my posture straight as I follow one of the farmers, showing off the barns and machinery, powered by the Academy. Most of our technology is controlled by Aquamarine, but it was never an issue. The agreement with the king seemed to be equal for both parties. The farmers who feed us, after all, need technological advances more than any of us in the royal palace. We don't need heavy machinery when we are already in possession of heated baths and easier access to pipes.

The earth dirties the top of my boots and I try to get it off without looking funny. I keep my chin up, but my eyes are set on the shoes. I curse the lands under my breath, hoping the visit ends soon. We have a long road back home, too, and I am already dreaming about that hot bath.

East, walking behind us like our own shadow, stays silent. He cannot place a word, even if he wanted to. Father's rules were strict. I wondered if he felt the same disgust walking in the mud, or if he felt at home, considering the Otherworld had a lot less urbanized territories than us.

"This is where we work," one of the farmers points to the large territory in front of us. I sigh at the sight and pull on a sweet smile.

"Nothing like fresh air, far from the urban areas," I say. East throws me an amused glance and rolls his eyes.

"From dawn to sunset, right?" Father says in his usual stern tone, completely ignoring my remark. The farmer nods and leads us further. "The view is beautiful, though. Take a look."

He points at the vast forests of autumn colors. It takes my breath away, and for a second, I wish I was born here. For a mere moment I wish I could live here in peace of nature, without the artificial lights of the city and the growling nobles, trying to win Father's favors. The feeling passes as soon as we return to the road leading to the city. I prefer our pristine castle over the mud, to be honest.

"I will be adding buildings around this area," Father talks to one of the minister's secretaries. The helpers of the elderly minister. The young men nod excitedly, as if they dream of improved infrastructure on a daily basis. What do I know, maybe they do. Life here seems very different from Argenis, not to mention, women here dress casually, instead of grand parade-like dresses. "You can count on my support. Financial and moral. My daughter will oversee the project once the ceremony is complete."

I jump at the mention of my name. "It will be a pleasure," I smile, teeth out in the open and all. I have to start somewhere. I cannot rule a kingdom if I don't live with the peasants for a week or so. Maybe more, seeing what Father is planning to do with the place.

The farmers bid us farewell, hope in their eyes, as they watch us get in our self-driven carriage. East opens the door for the king and me, and bows. He is going by foot, as always. Shadowguards do not need vehicles to cross long distances, they possess Fae magic. Fae magic makes them faster, agile, and apparently, able to teleport from one place to another.

I leave this place with a sense of uncertainty. For most of the ride, Father says nothing, contemplating the view. Once we reach the familiar road that goes from the forest to the capital gates, he says, "Your speech was good. Exactly what we needed."

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head.

"People there need hope for a better future. You just promised them that,"

"How can it be better if everything is already great?" I ask, trying to keep my curiosity down.

"There is always room for improvement, Norella."

For the rest of the ride my hands shook a bit. I felt uncomfortable under his judging gaze. Did I sign a contract by telling them I'd help? I was too scared to admit I might have made a mistake by promising something I was not sure I had the strength to do. West would have laughed at me, if he were here. He would tell me I'm capable of anything, if I put my mind to it. Nonetheless, I wasn't sure I could. And that would be sufficient for him to drop the act and believe in my frailty as much as I do.

Dinner was more ravishing than usual. Some nobles were invited to dine with us. The long table was decorated with sumac, sugar maple and black gum leaves. I even noticed some foreign maple, directly from the Isles. Father must have let no expenses stop him from keeping appearances. Nobles were important to the economy; they were important to us. Servants brought us beef steak and potato stew, accompanied with ciabatta, focaccia and blue cheese. The meat smelled of garlic and the wine tasted sweet. Soon after the first bite and drink I was feeling dizzy. Nobody noticed me, really. For once, I was thankful because I think I'd start reciting my future speeches. For fun.

Amid my unclear state of mind, I still noticed my brother shamelessly flirting with one of the noble girls, who was clearly unwilling to participate. I think her name was Soarise. Her parents were old acquintances of the crown and always presented themselves with valor and confidence. I could not sit and watch their only child getting harassed.

To save the poor girl from further chagrin I stood up, my glass in one hand. Guests looked at me, in surprise, while my family stayed stoic.

"I wish to make a toast," I put the glass even higher. "To our king, the humble and kind man who helps Malachite in every way possible. To your queen, who takes the most wonderful creative decisions, and to your well-being, my dear people," I took a sip and everyone followed, clapping their free hand on their wrists. Father threw me a menacing look, while Mother coughed, embarassed. Rigel finally let go of the noble girl, who used this moment to escape to the bathrooms.

"Norella, what a nice toast," Rigel sneers and I smirk. Alcohol was strong and gave me momentum I so desperately needed to save the poor girl. Brother was a shameless flirt, but also a cheater - and that was uncalled for. He could take pleasure in women, but by the spirits, why couldn't he settle on one?

"Indeed, we thought we lost you to the wine," Father spoke and I audibly gulped.

Oh.

So they saw.

It was late at night when I decided to see West. I didn't want to summon him – he was no lap dog. No matter what my family used to say to contraire that. A bit hypocritical of me to say so, considering the last two nights. But I wanted to change that scheme, and do the moving myself.

I walk through the cold gardens leading to the stables. They're clean, with healthy horses and enough hay to last a winter. I smell a familiar perfume. There he is.

West sits on a low stool and carves something in a chunk of wood – he is making a small statue. A piece of stone taps against the wooden wall as I approach it, and West is standing. When he sees me, his posture eases, and he sighs.

"Isn't it too late for you to be waltzing in here, Your Highness?"

I roll my eyes, getting closer. He smells of cedar with hints of agarwood, imported from the South. I wonder where he got that perfume. His eyes glitter in the candlelight, inviting me in. He looks around and puts his strong arms around my figure. He always calls me tiny, even though I'm not. Although, compared to most of the Fae, I must be. They're a lot taller than most Southern humans, like Mother, and a bit taller than Northern people, like Father. I was somewhere in the middle.

"Wanted to see you. And update you on royal drama. Dinner was... something," I manage to say, my heart ringing loudly in my ears. I feel his heartbeat through my clothes.

"Tell me about it," He hugs me tightly, resting his head on mine.

I sigh. "Rigel was making a girl uncomfortable so I had to do a toast to change the atmosphere."

"That's very courageous of you,"

"Don't say it like that,"

"Why?"

"Because it's not brave if alcohol is involved. And it was the right thing to do."

West pulls out of my embrace and looks at me intently. "You didn't tell me about the farms."

"Didn't East brief you?"

"I don't need his opinion, I want to hear yours."

I sit on the gravel path, the shadowguard by my side. His presence is familiar, something I miss every time I must go somewhere he is not required to, or has some other pressing matters. I must ask him later.

"The fields were so dirty I felt out of place. And I promised to help those people. Father plans to build a better infrastructure and put me up to the task."

"To oversee? That is great. Exactly what you wanted to be involved in." His voice is cool and I look up.

"Yeah... I just... I don't know. I don't feel ready, maybe? No, that is a blatant lie. I'm ready. I don't feel like walking around and dirtying my clothes. Peasant work is not my caliber."

He sighs and puts his arm around my shoulder. "You won't be digging out vegetables. You'll be standing in a temporary office, overseeing the constructions and signing papers. That's it."

I nod, agreeing. "Nothing to be afraid of then?" I laugh.

"Exactly."

"I feel ashamed. Of admitting I don't like fieldwork."

"Nobody likes fieldwork, Nor. Hell, I'm sure those peasants would love to take your place in the palace."

"Yeah, they most certainly do." I smile, eyes distant.

West kisses me on the temple and lets go. "I'd like to bring you somewhere before your duties begin. Is it okay with you?"

"Of course."

"Follow me."

We get on top of two horses, West's is a stronger, taller, brown stead. Mine is smaller and thinner, white like early snow. He hisses something in Fae language, something I cannot quite grasp, and the horses trot to the main gates. The guards don't bat an eye at us.

West gets down and approaches the pair. "I'd like to pass."

"Of course, sir."

"No need for formalities, I'm no knight."

"Of course."

The gates open and there it is, the avenue, free of carriages and pedestrians. Our horses break into gallop. The wind brushes back my hair, free of the usual lush braid, and it's difficult to breathe at first. Once I'm used to the strong current, I open my eyes and accept the pull. A laugh creeps out from my throat and I let out a guttural sound of joy. West turns his head and laughs wholeheartedly too.

Our horses lead us somewhere outside the city walls. We pass through the forest, taking the same route as I did with Father today. Only now I feel the branches slapping the top of my head, the cold wind pushing me back – suddenly I realize just how much I love horseback riding. West must know; why else would we use horses and not a carriage or his powers?

"Are we far?" I ask, having to raise my voice a little.

West snickers. "Tired already?"

"No! I love it!" I smile and let the horse gallop a bit faster, to catch up with the shadowguard. He notices my speed and for a second, hesitates. I'm already farther than him, giggling into the horse's mane. He follows suit but doesn't quite manage to keep up the pace.

The horse abruptly stops, and I nearly fall. West arrives seconds later. Our horses neigh quietly and stumble their hooves on the wet ground. In front of us are lights and smoke. The atmosphere seems peaceful, even cozy.