We lie on the hay, my head against his chest, taking in every breath, following the rhythm. It’s a lullaby, and I find myself drawn to it. He looks at the ceiling, magic still warming the stables. I feel at peace.

“I want you by my side, West,” I smile. “I’ll make it possible, just give me time.”

“If you wish to make changes, don’t trust everything they say in the palace. Make decisions by yourself. He kisses the top of my head, covering me with his large coat. It’s warm here, thanks to his spell. I yawn and cuddle closer to his chest. I feel good. Fulfilled and hopeful.

“I will,” I draw random symbols on his hairless chest, lounging in noises of our harmonized breathing.

Suddenly, West gets up to his knees, pushing me away. “Get dressed,” he orders, watching something in the distance. My eyes widen in shock, but I do as I am told. “We are not alone,” he notifies, and I am already in the middle of putting my ripped blouse on. At least I’m in my skirt – and if someone was to enter the stables, I could think of an excuse. Anything would work if West was here. He was respected and feared by servants – it couldn’t be anyone else.

“West, what’s wrong? Why are you so…” I try to find a word but fail miserably.

He puts his index finger to my lips, shushing me discretely. I look around, but with my human eyes, it’s pointless. I don’t see anybody, not even shadows.

The man breathes hard, concentrating. His nostrils flare and for a second I think it’s a joke about food being delivered. I giggle and take his hand in mine. “What about-”

An air piercing sound comes from the farther end of the gardens and something glitters in the dark. When I turn around, I notice West grabbing onto his neck. It takes me a moment to realize he’s hurt. Blood pours through his closed fingers and paints his naked chest vivid red.

“What?!” I cry out. My first instinct is to grab his hand. The black paint of his hands is now replaced by the red sticky substance. I know what it means, and I can’t think straight. “West!”

He breathes harshly, his white teeth turning red in a matter of seconds. The blood is choking him. So, I turn him to the side and put my hand on top of his, on the neck. The blood flow is too strong, and I can’t apply enough pressure on it. I can’t do anything other than scream.

West opens his mouth and tries to whisper something, but coughs on the blood. I softly hush him. “Servana argh mey la-”

Guards come running towards us. They don’t hesitate to take West’s half naked body out of the stables. I feel magic slowly dissipate into the air. I don’t feel warm anymore and start shivering, but I have no way of knowing if it’s the cold or the gut-wrenching truth that is spilling out from my lips.

“Is he going to die?” A servant runs towards me and looks at me, as bewildered as I. She helps me up and gasps as she sees the blood on my hands and arms. It’s like the day before – it’s the same consistency, the same color, it even smells the same, that snake of red. I watch as the knights take West away and shout, “Please help him! Please!” My voice breaks. My hands shake, as I try to get the blood off, but only end up brushing it out even further. “Let me come with you!”

The guards surround me and the servant, weapons unsheathed. They look around and cry out orders to check out the perimeter. Everything is spinning, but they act fast, not caring about the blood all around. It’s everywhere and I feel the urge to heave. “Please, let me join you!”

No one reacts to my pleas, too concentrated on finding the culprit. One of the servants quickly leads me to my chambers. She shakes but her grip is firm on my arm. She keeps me grounded until we reach my room. She sits me down on the floor, her eyes watery.

“Your Highness, I’m going to clean you.” I don’t speak, so she leaves to fill a bucket. Once she returns, I haven’t moved an inch. I still see him there, kissing me, hugging me, whispering to me. The cleaning is mechanical. The way she moves, the way I let her move my arms up and to the sides. I don’t feel real.

She washes me with care. She brushes my fingers, washing away the blood and massages my temples, trying to wash away the memories too. I wish she could make me forget the images. Like tiny insects they cover my eyes, and they sting so bad I let out quiet mumbles of pain. I’m not hurt, but everything aches. My head, my chest, my trapezius burns as if I carried loads of wheat through the fields all day long. I feel so much strain and not even hot water from the bucket helps me find a bit of peace.

It’s when she leaves that a question burns me. Who did this? I can’t stop thinking about the sound that doomed the night. I wish I could fall asleep and realize it was all a nightmare. An adrenaline infused dream. My magic acting up after dancing with the Fae. Wishful thinking, a deep voice in my mind speaks, and I shake. I claw into my scalp, desperately trying to carve out the thoughts. They’re poisonous and agonizingly bitter. I taste the memories on my tongue, I can feel the blood under my nails, and no amount of water can wash it away. Who did this? Who is this? Who are they?

I do not even try to fall asleep. An impossible task, until I’m aware of West’s well-being and position. Has he been brought to safety? Has East been notified? I get up and run towards the other chambers. My parents’ quarters are right here - and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to knock. Mother? Father? Maybe neither? Maybe I should let the knights and guards do their jobs?

Mother’s door opens and when she sees me, her eyes widen in horror. “Norella!”

“Mommy…” I whimper, running to her, embracing her tightly.

“What’s wrong? I heard noises downstairs.” She lets go of me and searches for a sign of pain. When she sees none, she blinks.

“Someone shot West, right through the neck,” I say, eyes stinging. She gasps and looks around. “Didn’t you hear?”

“Guards!”

Several men appear from the other side of the hallway, changing their habitual routine. Mother orders them to check the castle for any intruders. I do not try to fight. A whole squadron of guards have already been searching for twenty minutes. Another pair of guards will not make much of a difference if the culprit is gone.

I let her do what she must as I stare in the distance. Something batters against my temples, the blood pumping through my whole body. But it’s not just blood - I can feel magic acting up. I never had any issue to control it, until now, when I have to strain a bit to keep it at bay.

“You are in shock, I’ll call for a doctor,”

I nod absentmindedly and let her tap a large gem on the wall. It glistens under her touch. I let her accompany me to my rooms. She sits on the edge of the bed as I tug myself under the fresh covers. Soon after, our doctor arrives, distressed and breathless.

“What is the issue here?” he quickly puts transparent gloves on, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

“She is in shock. I guess she has seen blood up close.”

“Someone attacked West, my shadowguard, I- I didn’t see who!” I try to explain but the doctor seems to be more concentrated on checking my physical rather than emotional state. He nods and takes out a packet of herbs. He starts putting them in a wooden bowl, previously attached to his hip, and batters the herbs with a wooden spoon.

Once the mixture is ready, he applies it under my nose and around my eyes. “That will help you sleep, at least for a few hours. If the shock doesn’t subside, call for me. I won’t be sleeping anyways.”

“What happened?” The queen asks and the man simply shakes his head.

“None of you to worry, Your Majesty.”

He leaves us silent and worried. Mother gets up from the bed and caresses my hair. She braids it and walks away without saying a word. I pray the concoction helps me get some rest. Sleep always helped me feel better, why shouldn’t it work now? It’s herbology, it’s a form of science, it’s foolproof.

Someone knocks on my door and I jump from the bed. I shake, getting close to the window. It’s closed, but I could escape if I had the time. So I open it, and say loudly, “Come in.”

East appears in the doorframe, taking a quick look around my room.

“East! Thank the spirits.”

“Are you hurt?” His white irises glow in the dim lit room. The blackness of the ‘whites’ is scary, but so familiar now. I wish I could hug him.

“No, just in shock,” I repeat what the doctor said.

“Listen to me, something big is brewing out there, you must stay vigilant. And do not worry about West, he’s being transported to the Isles.” East’s voice is strained and he speaks fast.

“What? Why are you in such a hurry?” My eyelids become heavier with each second, it must be the herbs at work. Such bad timing.

“Did you see anything? Did you see the person who shot West?”

“No!” I exclaim and get back on the bed, closing the window behind. “What’s going on, East? Please tell me!”

His breaths are shallow and there is uncertainty in his eyes. “West’s shooter… I don’t think he is finished. There are rumors out in the capital, and in other cities too. Just keep calm and stay here, do not leave the castle.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

He turns to the door. “I have to inform the Queen,”

“Mother knows,”

“No, the Fae Queen. West was her personal agent. She must be worried sick.”

I furrow my brows, fighting the urge to sleep. “I know of the contract.”

“Then you know she will be furious if she learns he was lethally hurt.”

“But he’ll be fine, right? You said I didn’t have to worry.”

“Indeed. Still, the Queen is not very forgiving regarding the safety of her subjects.”

He is already opening the door when I cry out his name.

“Wait! Being a bodyguard means protecting the person with your life. Why would she be furious with us if West…”

“Doesn’t make sense, huh?” East shakes his head. “West was attacked. Not with a knife, not with an arrow. He was shot. Meaning there is a person with a gun, such weapons are illegal in Malachite as far as I know.”

I didn’t think of it. I was too busy screaming that I completely overlooked this detail.

“But there was no sound, just some whooshing…”

“Technology in some countries is truly astounding. Maybe magically enhanced. Anyways. Fae are stronger and live longer than humans, much more apt in magic, but we are not immortal. And such weapons were used to eradicate us in the past - it might be happening again. The Queen of Honeyed Combs will not accept it.”

I shut my mouth, then, a second later, open it. “Someone hunts down Fae?”

“Most probably. It is my best guess.”

“Then you are leaving to the Isles too?”

He nods, hand still on the doorknob. “Take me with you.”

“I can’t. Your place is here.”

“But West is there and he needs me!”

“No, he doesn’t, princess. You know very well he doesn’t need you.”

He closes the door and I break into sobs.

***

It is the queen’s arrival that rouses me from slumber. I weep at her bright face, her eyelids painted in blues and greens and her lips pink. “My little girl…” she caresses my braided hair. I weep awfully loud in her arms, smelling her gentle flower perfume. I could never place it, and now, amidst tears and snot, I’m sure it's snapdragon. It’s her favorite flower and it’s blooming this season.

She holds me close, while I tap my feet against the mattress. She holds me so tight that it becomes difficult to cry without losing air. My face in her chest, I’m enveloped in motherly care I’ve missed so. After a dozen minutes I finally breathe out and ask for water. Auretta, who was there all along, hidden in a corner of my chambers, brings me a crystal glass and disappears.

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I chug it down in one swift motion and put it on the bedside stand. Mother clears her throat. I dare to look into her sweet eyes. I inherited her black hair and a bit of her tan. But the thing I’ve inherited fully is the lack of warm words when someone is in need. She sits in silence. She touches my hand, brushing the back of my hand with her thumb. Her nails are of perfect length, perfectly shaped. She shines even though I’m crying my heart out. When I was a kid, I used to admire her perfection.

“West was taken to the Isles. Their medicine is more apt to help him,” she finally speaks.

“He’s in the Fae kingdom?..” I gasp, sitting upright, feigning surprise. She nods. There it is, the silence. She nods again and gets up. Before closing the door behind her, she utters, “Once you’re ready we’d like to see you in the office,”

Her expression adds, by king’s orders. He must have a plan to find the culprit. Meanwhile the Fae are geniuses in medicine and healing magic, and they are doing everything to help my bodyguard. With certainty that everything will be okay, I manage to get up and put a dress on. A long arctic blue gown with lace flowers around my neck. I step into my shoes, simple white slippers.

I wash my face above the bowl of lukewarm water Auretta must have put for me. I look at my reflection, noticing my red eyes and dark circles. I’ve rarely looked this way. After the Academy gave me my degree and I was freed from one of multiple burdens, I did not cry as hard as this. I also never have experienced such a shock before, not even with magic.

I notice red marks on my neck. They’re turning burgundy in some places, peppering my skin like snowflakes. I gasp, trying to hide them by tightening the neck piece. A day ago I would have dreamed of being marked like this. Now I had to face the consequences of getting too close.

Scared of my own shadow, or lack thereof, I head to the office, noticing how few servants there are. It’s way past dawn, they should be tending to the gardens and dusting the railing of the stairs. But no one is here, as if the castle was put on lockdown. West’s injury must have made everyone jumpy. I wish I knew more.

My steps feel heavy as I drag my body to the king’s office. It’s in the southern wing, above the library. Before knocking I stop my hand right at the door. I don’t dare enter. I remember West’s words. Do not trust everything people in the palace tell you. I wonder if he knew someone was out hunting for him. Does it mean I can’t trust people I’ve grown up with? Not trust our servants? Not trust our knights? Do not trust who exactly, West? Answer me, please. Please, come back soon. Without you every pillar crumbles, and the bricks break; the base of the house I was building now of dust and blood.

I shake the negative thoughts off and knock with my knuckles. The door is opened by the king himself. “Come in,” I do so, and see Mother at the window, sipping from her cup. It smells of jasmine. “Sit.” I do. I feel out of place. The tension in the room signifies something big indeed is going on, and I’m being kept in the dark. For once, it unnerves me.

“The queen told you the shadowguards were brought to the Isles,” he starts. “West’s wounds were nearly fatal. Somebody attacked him. That somebody infiltrated our castle and nearly killed one of the best bodyguards we’ve ever had. A Fae, too. How did you find him? Did you see anything?”

I swallow hard. “I was with him all along. Somebody shot something to his neck and… I didn’t see anything else.” Father’s eyes widen and Mother turns to me, waiting.

“What do you mean you were with him all along?” he asks, tone harsher than before. I start to sweat.

“Well… We were in the stables, tending to the horses.” I manage to pronounce, seeing how Mother’s eyes lose their flickering light. She puts the cup on the desk and stands beside the king. Their presence reminds me of examiners, waiting for me to continue to defend my thesis.

“What were you doing in the stables at midnight? Your curfew is nine,” Mother says. The king glares at me. He knows something, he must have seen something.

“I couldn't sleep.” I try so hard, but my cheeks grow red and I can’t hide the trickling sweat on my temples. The dress suffocates me and my fingers start tingling. Father notices something on my neck and glances at Mother. She looks bewildered. “I don’t get it, why ask all these questions?” My voice trembles. They don’t answer, only look at each other. I cannot read their expressions, but I feel the tension rising.

“You were soiled?” The question stings. My mouth agape, I don’t know what to say. My heart beats fast and telling the truth seems like the only option. I must stay my ground. All that I promised West: about becoming queen and changing things, I must start now, to hell with the consequences. There is nothing I’m afraid of more than what I already witnessed.

So, even if a voice inside tells me to shut up, I speak with determination: “We are together, yes.”

The king roars and slams his fist onto the desk. I jump in surprise, looking at Mother, who not only does nothing, but pierces me with her eyes. I feel unwelcome. I feel like I’ve made a huge mistake. I want to run away, but that would only aggravate the situation.

“Idiot. You’re such an idiot, Norella!” He shouts, scaring me. It’s been so long since he yelled. I’ve nearly forgotten and forgiven him. My eyes darted from him to Mother. “What about your title? What about your oath? What about everything we taught you?!”

I scowl as tears burn my eyes. “I did nothing wrong,” I’m outright lying.

Mother sneers. “I didn’t raise a whore, Norella! How could you?”

“I-I’m no whore! We both love each other!” I shout-whisper, unable to speak louder. Father rolls his eyes and approaches the chair. He slaps my cheek, pushing my face to the left. His eyes are fury and his hand is controlled by rage.

“I don’t want to hear these lies. We brought you up differently,”

“Lies?” I get up, adrenaline taking over. “You brought me up to be the queen, not some virgin saint figure!”

“Fae cannot love, stupid girl!” The king shouts right into my face. I shake my head, thoughts becoming too heavy to bear. At least he’s alive. Even if he cannot return to the palace, he will be free. I breathe through the heartbreak. He takes a step back. Something on my face must have scared him just like he scared me.

“What a blatant lie,” I whisper. “You are the ones who don’t know how to love.”

“Repeat that!” Mother steps in, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me to her. I let out a scream. My foot dangles, trying to grip the chair’s foot. Meaningless, Mother is already pulling me to the desk. I can’t even stand straight.

“I said you don’t know how to love!” I try to shout, but it comes out as a squeak. My pathetic tone makes Father’s expression worsen. Mother lets out a sad wince and lets go of my hair. I fall on my knees and start to sob uncontrollably. Each breath is accompanied by a squeal.

“Pull yourself together!” Mother shouts. “This is not a way a princess should act.” At first, I’m too shocked to feel anything. But several seconds later, a flower of guilt blooms in my chest. My bruised cheek hurts less.

“My eldest daughter, my heir, was soiled by some Fae. I cannot believe this. I can’t.” The king mutters, cutting the silence. I look up, and get up, struggling to keep my legs from shaking.

“Why are you so…” I gulp because I know he is right. Some traditions are upheld in his court, and the virginity one stands higher than most. Ridiculous as it is, I feel obliged to accept the consequences. Will they hide the truth and marry me off to someone who cares not for such details? Soiled. Filthy. I was nothing of the sort. I was a saint compared to those in the cities.

“Your mother will deal with this mess. Now, to the matter at hand. You saw nothing? Not the weapon used, nor the culprit?”

“No. Otherwise I would have done something,” I say through tears, lowering my head. I accept whatever punishment they will bestow. I start to gnaw at my index nails, scanning the floor for any imperfection, but find none. It is pristine, like the whole office. Even with paper scattered around and many trinkets from foreign ministers and messengers, this room seems perfectly organized. I do not fit in here anymore. Snot dangles from my nostrils and each time I take a breath, I hear a whistle in my nose. My nails are demolished, shorter than they’ve ever been. The skin between my nose and upper lip has become wet and grainy. I’ve spent the entire morning blowing my nose, wiping the crude substance away.

I’ve never looked beautiful while crying, and maybe that is the reason why Mother hated seeing me like this. She hated seeing her reflection be so indignant and uncivilized.

“Honestly, Norella, what could you have done?” His voice is one of a betrayed father. I fail to see where I betrayed the monarchy, though. I fail to see why sleeping with my shadowguard is worse than someone attempting to kill him. I fail to see how they are in any place to judge my relationship while theirs was solely based on my mother getting into the newly crowned father’s bed and asking for political refuge.

I am excused right after. Father did not share whatever plan he had to capture the intruder. They were certainly far away from here, in hiding. My parents threw me a glance of disdain, as I was turning around. I felt empty, aimlessly walking through the halls. Portraits on the walls watched me from all angles. Their empty eyes followed me. With every step I took, I sensed the burn on my cheek grow. Blood flowed to my face and I felt shameful and dirty. But mostly, I felt alone.

I hid in the inner garden, surrounded by smaller trees and a marble fountain. It was a crossroad, to the four parts of the castle. There was no place I would feel safe. Not even in my room. So, I decided to hide where no one would try to find me - in plain sight. I sat on the grass, still summer green from the magic covering our palace. Lunch time was approaching, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to move. I couldn’t go back to the throne room and act like nothing happened. Not with West away.

In a hopeful, but dumb attempt I opened my mouth and whispered his name. Silence was my answer. I repeated it again and again, but nobody showed. I couldn’t feel his chilly aura. The last words echoed in my mind, the words I had no chance of understanding. Fae dialect, a beautiful and eerie language, each word meaning magic in its own way. I wish I knew what he said.

It was Auretta who found me, lying on the grass, eyes closed and barely warm. Somehow, the outside chilly air penetrated my clothes, right into my skin and refused to let go. I shivered when she touched me.

“Your Highness… I was looking for you everywhere,” she warily says, as if I need to keep her updated on my whereabouts. I snort in disgust and get up, straightening my dress. “You should eat dinner and rest before the parade tomorrow.”

“Auretta, who sent you?” I ask. I had no desire to share a meal with my family tonight, and I had no appetite whatsoever.

“Nobody, Your Highness. I was worried, is all.” Her voice is squeaky and sweet. I fight back the tears. They are on the precipice, awaiting the moment I show a bit of weakness. I don’t even know why I want to cry. Shame? Longing?

“I see. You are excused. I am not hungry.”

“But you should eat, please.”

“Then bring me a platter here.” I sit back on the ground, leaning on the fountain.

“What do you wish to eat, Your Highness?” she asks, as sweet as before. Usually she is not as gentle. Usually she is very professional, very distant. You could tell working here, for me, was a job, no emotional connection.

“Bring me bread, salmon and butter, please.” I put my chin between my knees, tugging on the grass. Auretta bows and runs off to the west stairs, leading to the kitchens.

I need to visit West. I need to see him soon, to make sure he is healing. If I don’t see it with my own two eyes I won’t truly believe it. So, I need a plan. I need a way to escape, but there are too many political doors and restrictions. I couldn’t just leave the palace, not like this, not right now, after the attack. I need a discreet way out. Maybe magic like invisible cloaking?

I hear footsteps and look up, but instead of the servant, I see Rigel. He has a vicious smirk on his face, his eyes glazing with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred. “Father requests your presence at dinner.”

I have no time to refuse, as he’s already gripping me by the arm and pulling me to the throne room. We pass through the halls, but the vivid colors of the walls and paintings do not call to me anymore. It’s all bleak as I follow, weak and unable to fight his powerful grip. Rigel is very strong for his age. Or maybe I’m so famished that I lack energy.

“What did you do to make him so angry, huh?” He asks as we arrive at the ornate gold doors. He doesn’t open them yet, waiting for an answer.

“That’s none of your business,”

“Oh, I think it is my business. We are family are we not? Come on, spill it. What did you do?”

If he wasn’t so mean I would have spilled it all. I would have cried on his shoulder and let him talk to Father in my stead. But Rigel has always had a connection to the king, and it overshadowed whatever love Father and I shared. I could not be honest with him - he would only mock me.

I scowl and brush his hand off. I open the doors myself and step into the room. The chandeliers illuminate the table, already filled with hot meat and potatoes. I can smell sweet wine and salad dressings too. My stomach gurgles.

My parents are the same, same clothes, same faces, sitting at the long table filled with delicacies. There’s Spica, by Mother’s side. Rigel clicks his tongue in amusement and sits by Father’s right. My place is beside Rigel. I feel naked under their gazes. I feel violated by their silent snide remarks. I know what they’re thinking. Each and everyone has a theory, and each theory is worse than the previous one.

They watch me, as I sit down. I feel their eyes on me, as I take a serving of fowl and salad. I fill my crystal cup with red wine, and Rigel smirks. He loves watching me suffer. Maybe it was being the middle child. Nobody paid much attention to him. He grew up alone, but I never felt bad for him. Empathetic or no, I suffered the same. He had no burden of magic in his blood, he didn’t have to leave the castle for the Academy. He didn’t have to spend nights in an unfamiliar cold palace ruled by people a thousand times more powerful than you; and when I had tried to enter his room and suggest we go horseback riding, he had insulted me and slammed the door in my face. My nose bled for an hour after.

Spica and I never talked. She was always Mother’s favorite - small, tan and wild. I think Mother saw herself in her - the younger, unsullied version of herself. Before the coup. When she told me about it, while I was still playing with dolls, I dropped the toy horse and stared. Mother’s eyes were blank and maybe she regretted sharing the memory. I was too young to understand the effect it had on her. Her own subjects betrayed her trust, infiltrating the castle and burning it down. She had said the images were as vivid as the day it happened. She had lost her family to the fire that night. As the sole survivor of the coup, she fled her home country and found refuge here, in Malachite, where monarchy still ruled. I felt bad for her back then. Now, after so many years, I wish she’d feel the gut-wrenching feeling of losing someone you love again, to be reminded of the pain, instead of hiding behind protocol and a dollhouse she has built here.

Seeing how spoiled Spica has become, seeing how Mother never told her anything remotely harsh - yes, it put me in a state of everlasting sorrow. A sorrow you put far under your skin, somewhere in the marrow of your bones because it is unethical, because it is unjust for Spica, as it is unfair for Mother. So we never talked. Not that it did anything to my sister. She inherited Father’s golden hair, green eyes and capacity to forgive. Non-existent. I slapped her once, when she was barely six, because she burned my favorite dress. I was so mad and she only smiled. Wickedly smiled and said “Now you can’t wear it; And there is no need for me to be jealous.”

She is now bordering twelve, and yet, has never smiled at me, not even once. I guess she was still jealous. There was not much she could envy. I was not the prettiest girl in the world, even though I had my charm. I was not the smartest; I was very well-educated, yes, but so was she. I don’t get it. I don’t understand their anger.

I see an untouched bottle of wine I usually prefer at gatherings. I stand up and grab it. A servant comes running and opens it for me. I try not to be embarrassed by the stares of others. Please, don’t talk to me. Please, don’t ask me anything. Please.

I eat in silence, while Rigel and Father laugh. The king seems to be in a better mood than before. I feel they’re laughing at me. It burns my cheeks. It burns me whole. Food tastes bad, the fowl is overcooked and the salad feels a day old, not freshly cut from the gardens.

In between swallows, I think of the Isles, of the castle, how to escape unnoticed and find my shadowguard. I cannot do it alone, but no one in this room will be willing to help. Father would raise hell, Mother would lock my door and Rigel would publically humiliate me, Spica would tell mommy. I have no choice. I’ll have to seek aid around the castle. Maybe the Academy tutors would help with a vehicle. Or a horse. I’m fine money-wise, and that is advantageous already. I won’t starve on the road. The main issue is the destination. The Isles are bigger than our whole continent. Their civilization is older, wiser, they will not let a runaway princess in - they would find out my identity in a second, even if I learned the school of illusions.

I wince as I taste the wine. It’s nasty, bitter and sugary at the same time.

“Is that your idea of a joke?” I glance at Rigel and Spica. “Putting something in my wine?” Both stare at me narrow eyed as if I were crazy.

I feel dizzy. I get up from the table, holding myself to the edge for balance. My head’s spinning. My throat starts itching from the inside and I cough. The feeling of terror overwhelms me and I kneel. Father gets up from the table and runs to me. I’m slowly suffocating, unable to take a full breath without coughing. He holds me close, shouting my name, but the only thing I hear are my coughs, obliterating my trachea and lungs.

When I think I'm about to pass out, I see a medic. Not the family doctor, but another, younger one, putting on translucent gloves. He puts me on the ground and touches my neck, rapidly unlacing the upper part of the dress. As I'm left in undergarments, he inspects my skin. When I lift my head, I see huge red splotches on my skin. Allergies?.. He puts his hand on my forehead and starts scribbling runes on a paper from his satchel. I soon am able to breathe again.

When I'm able to think straight, I remember the only thing we ever found I was allergic to. One particular nut from Abrayam. I don’t even know its name, but if I saw it, I would recognize it. I couldn’t have eaten it, not unless… Unless it was put in wine. My family aren’t allergic to it; we discovered that years ago, during one of the banquets of Ostara. I ate everything I found remotely cute and this nut, big and dark, looked exactly what I needed. I soon fell unconscious from anaphylactic shock and awoke in Mother’s arms, as she caressed my hair. I’ve been given medication and made a full recovery in less than ten minutes. I don’t even remember being scared. Right now, however, I felt the terror of gliding next to death. This time, it was mine.

Something was not right in the palace - something very dark was happening and I couldn’t shake the sense of worry that West knew something but didn’t have enough time to tell me. If only he were here, he would have smelled the nut in my wine. He would have appeared from the shadow under the table and threw the glass from my hand. Then he would have gently kissed my hand. Then he would have hugged me tight and told me he would protect me.

I’m awoken from my reverie by Father. He seems annoyed, at most. No worry on his face anymore. Just the same old judgment. I can already hear his ‘How could you be so stupid? The wine clearly contained nut, and yet, you drank it, stupid girl.’ To my surprise, he says nothing. Mother, however, exhales loudly, putting her hand on her rapidly rising and falling chest.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Acute allergic reaction. You must be careful, Your Highness.”

The medic hurries outside, forgetting to bow. Spica and Rigel are still at the edge of their seats, watching the scene. I cough one last time, for luck, and get up by myself.

“Someone put nut powder in the wine,” I say. The king looks at Mother. She is speechless, just like him. The initial shock passes, now replaced by primal fear. “Somebody tried to kill me?”