“Can I talk to you?”

Arya paused with her hand outstretched, ready to open the door to her chambers. Garrin had barely caught up to her after his training session; Lliane, Arya, and Dellon had lingered while Senjay and Elonie finished their lesson, but then Senjay insisted on walking him back inside. He’d taken the long way through the halls, forcing Garrin to run the rest of the way to Arya’s bedchambers in the hopes that she would go there to change before dinner.

And she had, thank the goddess. She watched him struggle to catch his breath, her expression bland as she waited to hear what he had to say. “You can always talk to me,” she said at last. “Isn’t that what I was made for?”

He grimaced. “That’s part of what I want to talk about. Will you come inside?”

She shrugged and opened his door instead of hers. “As long as it doesn’t take too long. I have a few things I need to get done before dinner.”

Garrin followed her inside and shed his cloak, hanging it back in the wardrobe while Arya took a seat beside the fire. “I wanted to...” he started, but faltered. The grand speech he’d prepared had fractured into disconnected thoughts, and with her bright eyes fixed on him, he couldn’t seem to pull them back together.

“Yes?” she prompted.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to... apologize. For treating you like you were created solely for my use.”

A hint of color rose to her cheeks. “I was created for your use.”

“And that is wrong,” he said. “However you were born, you are... you are you. Not just the princess, not just my betrothed. You deserve a chance to be an individual.”

She looked toward the fire. “Fine words, but impractical. I am as bound to this place as you are.”

“You don’t have to be.” He waited until her eyes found his again, and then he moved across the room and sat in the chair beside her. “If you left, the council would let you. If you wanted to go somewhere else, be someone else...”

Arya blinked at him, her brows furrowed. “What about you? Have you decided to take your responsibilities seriously?”

“I know what my responsibilities are,” he sighed. “But they don’t have to be yours, if you don’t want them. I can manage on my own.”

“You would still need a queen,” Arya said.

He hitched up one shoulder. “I would find one, eventually. One that wanted to be here, not one that was forced to.”

For a long moment, Arya simply stared at him. The fire crackled in the silence, popping as it burned away the chill from the room. It offered nothing else. No encouragement, no insight into what Arya might be thinking—just a respite from the quiet. A distraction, not a solution.

“I don’t need your answer now,” he said at last. “It’s just... something to think about. If you want to.”

Still, she was silent. But she offered him a small smile as she stood, and she set her hand on his arm as she made her way across the room.

He didn’t watch her leave, but his ears strained toward the sound of the door opening and closing. He wanted to feel good about the conversation and about the fact that he’d offered Arya the choice no one had given him, but he mostly felt... empty. Like he was being left behind by the only one who could understand his situation.

But she hadn’t said that she would leave. Just because it was what Garrin would do didn’t mean that Arya would do the same. He should use the time he had to plan and prepare, and not let himself mope over something that hadn’t even happened yet.

Resolved, he changed into clothing more appropriate for a state dinner and made his way to the dining hall. It was another small affair, hosting the royal families and the council, but this time there were no dramatic entrances before the meal. In fact, the meal was almost what he could call boring—and that was a welcome change. There was only one thing that made him question the peace.

Arya wasn’t there.

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The other royal heirs waited politely at first, but after ten minutes, Garrin told them to begin their meal. “She’s probably tired,” Lliane said, leaning over the empty seat at his right. “She declined coming to my room for tea before dinner. She said she wanted to rest.”

An excuse, Garrin was sure, though there was nothing to prove that it was not true. He was tired too. If he could avoid a tedious formal dinner by taking a nap, he would do it. But some intuition told him there was more to the story, and he was anxious to find out what it was.

“You needn’t worry,” Lliane said toward the end of the meal. “Arya is much more capable than she’s given credit for.”

“I know she’s capable,” Garrin said.

Lliane smiled. “I misjudged her. I had this image in my head of a simpering, meek princess, more like—” She broke off, but Garrin could guess the rest of her thought. Like your mother.

“She has a mind of her own,” Garrin said. His eyes roamed, for the dozenth time, to the main door.

“I know that now,” Lliane said. “And I like her better for it. It’s too bad she doesn’t... well, that she doesn’t...”

Garrin did his best to sound nonchalant. “That she doesn’t love me?”

Lliane shrugged. “She told me you’d requested a few other qualities last minute. Maybe that cancelled out the devotion she was supposed to feel.”

“Maybe.”

“But isn’t that better?” Lliane pressed. “You always said you wanted to find your own love, and now you can do it without having to worry about her feelings.”

It was better—should have been better. So why didn’t it feel better?

“Where do you think you’ll look?” Lliane asked.

Garrin frowned. “For what?”

“For your love,” she laughed.

Right. If Arya decided to leave, he would have no choice but to stay—and where was he going to find true love here in the castle? “I don’t exactly have a plan for that,” he said flatly.

“Maybe you don’t need to look,” she said. “Maybe... maybe you’ve already found her.”

“One of the nobles?” Garrin snorted.

Lliane gave him an impatient look. “You would still need a princess, wouldn’t you?”

On his left, Senjay leaned into his shoulder and said in a loud whisper, “Why are you being difficult? Do you really not know what she’s saying?”

Garrin glared at him. “Stay out of this.”

“No, he’s right,” Lliane said. “Do you really not know?”

“I—”

“She wants to nominate herself for the open position,” Senjay said. He plucked a piece of roasted potato off Garrin’s plate and took a bite, winking. “Must be for the food. I can’t imagine any other reason she’d want to tie herself to you.”

Garrin stared at him, then at Lliane. “You can’t be serious. I’m betrothed!”

“In words only,” Lliane said. “Neither of you holds any affection for the other. If you want to marry Arya, then by all means, do so. I’m just offering another alternative.”

“But you...” he sputtered. “You...?”

She smiled. “Love you? I could, I think. Easily. The last few days have certainly shown you in a more favorable light. But this is a decision of the head, not the heart. My parents have already started looking for a husband for me, and none of the suitors they’ve presented are even remotely interesting. You, at least, I get along with. Why couldn’t we grow to love each other? You like me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “But—”

“But he wants to find his own love,” Senjay interrupted.

Lliane stirred a pile of vegetables on her plate. “So do I. That’s why I think this is a good idea. We already like each other. We respect each other. Love grows from those things. It would be better than marrying a stranger.”

It was too much. Arya hadn’t even decided whether she wanted to leave—he couldn’t consider replacing her with someone else. But what was he replacing? Arya had admitted she didn’t love him. Neither did Lliane, though she apparently thought she could. That wasn’t the kind of love he wanted, though. He wanted something strong and passionate, something that inspired ballads. Something to base a life on, and not just a kingdom.

“Think about it,” Lliane said, offering him an understanding smile. “We have time for decisions.”

Senjay stole another potato from Garrin’s plate. “And if he decides he’d rather live alone, I know another prince you can talk to.”

Lliane snorted. “I’d rather marry the forty-year-old duke my father favors.”

They talked over him for the last few moments of the meal, but as soon as Garrin was able to leave without offending the court, he fled the noise of the hall and tried to understand what had just happened. He didn’t want to marry Lliane... did he? He’d always considered her pretty, but his feelings had never gone deeper than that. Or was it only that he’d never thought of her as a possibility for love? If she thought she could grow to love him, couldn’t he do the same? Lliane knew him in a way no one else did. Perhaps she could be his true love after all.

But when he closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against them, it wasn’t Lliane’s face he saw.

He needed to talk to Arya.

A frantic, almost desperate feeling rose in his chest, but he did his best to push it down and force a calm breath through his lungs. If Lliane was right, he’d find Arya asleep in her room. He didn’t want to wake her, but he had to talk to her. Now, before his heart beat out of his chest.

He fairly ran to her room, knocking before he’d come to a complete stop. There was no answer. He cracked open the door and called inside, but there was no one there. He tried the same in his own room and found nothing, so he went back into hers to see if he could find a clue as to where she’d gone.

Instead, he found a note.

Garrin,

I’ve thought about the things you told me earlier, and I think it’s best if we part ways. I can clearly not serve as this country’s queen. I have neither the qualifications nor the temperance to serve in such a capacity. The one we spoke to this morning was right. It will be best for everyone if I simply leave and make my own way in the world. I hope you find the kind of adventure you’re looking for. It might be closer than you think.

Arya