Page 5 of Princess of Air

“Would she still marry Prince Jamys?” Nina continues as if Rylan hadn’t spoken. “Could she be queen of both kingdoms?”

My betrothal contract certainly couldn’t have taken this ridiculous turn of events into account. The heir has freestanding choice over his or her marriage, but since I’m already locked in…

My heart races. Surely no one could expect me to—

“Her betrothal would remain intact.” Father’s eyes find mine, and a tremor rattles me from within, worse than any of Rylan’s quakes. “If you win, you would be Sovereign of Alchos and Queen-Consort of Ceraun.”

The thought of multiple crowns makes my shoulders buckle. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Marcus was trying to drown me. I’ve only recently come to terms with my betrothal. It’s not what I’d have chosen, but shoring up our alliance with Ceraun is vital when Penum’s simmering animosity toward us is always threatening to boil over. Whether or not I want Jamys is irrelevant; I want to protect my family and kingdom. My task in that effort has already been assigned. It would be wildly unjust to drop the responsibility of both kingdoms and the alliance on me. I’m not capable of it all.

Pressure builds behind my eyes. “No, I—”

“Is that what the ministry wants?” Rylan wrings his hands and paces the length of the large table. “To join Alchos and Ceraun as one under Arabella and Jamys?”

“They would still be individual kingdoms,” Marcus says. “Right, Mother?”

“Yes.”

Rylan tries again. “It would certainly strengthen our relations, though.”

“Some think that would be beneficial,” Mother says. “However, plenty of them believe it would be a conflict of interest to have the King of Ceraun as consort here.”

To think of my future marriage being a matter of debate in ministry meetings turns my stomach. It’s difficult enough to picture Jamys and me side by side as King and Queen in Ceraun, and I’ve sat with that idea for the better part of a year. It’ll take a massive transformation for me to fit into Cerauno society. There’s no way for me to be Alchosian and Cerauno. Our kingdoms are too different. I’ve accepted I’ll have to suppress my style, outspokenness, and my overall personality to make my future there work. I can’t do all that and be Alchosian enough to rule here.

I push away from the table. “Would you all stop speaking about me as if I’m not here? This is my life you’re talking about, not strategy in some game. None of it matters. I won’t do it. I’m not participating.” As I rush out of the room, I add, “If the three of you want to tear each other’s throats out for the crown, be my guest. I’ll not have anything to do with it.”

The transparent shield I’d soundproofed the room with shatters as I walk through it.

So flustered am I that I stomp up the winding stairs rather than shooting up through the middle. I need the feel of stone under my feet, the strain in my legs, to remind myself I’m not dreaming.

The kingdom comes first. It must. Magic isn’t a gift given to us to play with—it’s a tool we must use to aid and guide Alchos. The well-being of our people is the primary driving force of my heart, but if it shreds our family, what good can we be to them? That’s all this will do. Marcus was already being an ass, poking at Rylan’s confidence. Nina’s first priority will always be Nina. Her perpetual desire for anything she can’t have—from toys as a little girl to wine as an adolescent—never strayed to the crown, because that was obviously not possible. Now that it is, I have no doubt she’ll do anything to get it simply because it wasn’t supposed to be hers.

It’s sad how little it takes to unravel us.

Well, I suppose this isn’t a little thing.

Lucy is waiting in my chambers when I enter and drops to a low curtsy. “Good evening, my lady. It’s earlier than I expected you. May I help you out of your gown?” She’s being too formal. News must be spreading through the back halls of the friction at dinner. Some things are no match even for my magic.

“No, thank you. I can manage.” Plus, I don’t suppose I’ll be left alone, so there’s no point in getting undressed yet. “I won’t need anything else tonight.”

“All right.” She dips her chin. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I sprawl out on my chaise lounge and immediately regret not asking for wine or taking some of that cake with me. That would have really done it: Sorry, Ry, you may not get your crown, and I’m taking your birthday cake. After some time brooding with my swirling thoughts, I reach around to the side table and pull out a sheet of paper and a quill. As I finish scrawling a note, the door opens. I glance up to see Rylan peeking his head through.

“Come in.”

As I sign it, Ry says, “Can’t you float the quill to write?” His hands are held conspicuously behind his back.

A warm breath of air dries the ink. “I’ve never tried. I don’t suppose my handwriting would be very good.”

“It wouldn’t actually be hand-writing at that point.”

I almost grin. He seems to have calmed down at least. “What’s behind your back?”

Rylan presents a large serving of cake and sits next to me.

My note floats out of the open window on a determined breeze. “You know, regardless of where I rank against Nina, you are my favorite brother.”

---