chapter three

For the next week, my mind spins with all the possibilities. I thought with the help of the council and my advisors, I knew everything there was to know about the throne. As long as I had them, I’d make a successful job at ruling. I was wrong.

This has turned into a game I don’t know the rules to. Each day, every night, I spend thinking about the words mom never dared to say but were there, plain as the day, in her eyes. For her to tell me her marriage was becoming a willing doom after the pressure the crown put on their heads makes me fearful. A future I fear is looming closer and closer, and this time I’m not able to stop it.

Restless nights make it hard for me to focus in the morning. The meetings I attend to are meaningless. They blur into one another, my efforts not to fall asleep more frequent with every passing day. I never get a word or say in what will be done, and even if I did, I don’t know if I’d be brave enough to speak up. Maybe Rodrick was.

And now he’s dead.

Still, thinking about it makes me realize there are forces to be reckoned with, things I have no knowledge of, and I try to convince myself it’s for the better. Once I step into the throne, I’ll know the real dangers, I’ll know better than Rodrick or dad did. Once I know, the information will try to bury me, locking me in an invisible coffin. If I remain in the dark, I won’t struggle with the weight the truth comes with. For now. And so, I make a vow to myself, another one of the thousand ones settling in my mind like clouds that won’t give in to the sunlight.

I won’t sign the coronation slips. Not before confronting the council first. It might get me nowhere, probably letting the council know I’ve never been too fond of them since the beginning. Perhaps it’s a foolish movement. I should step back and watch my footing, hoping not to falter and sign the accord just to get the power I was born with to belong to me once and for all. But I won’t allow myself to not try. I have to, even if the road it leads me to is a dead end.

Today, however, is the first day since I don’t feel sleepy in the lack of interest for the day ahead. I had enough hours of sleep. A mysterious occasion, almost as infrequent as an eclipse. Blackness swallowed me for a total of six hours last night. Today’s different, and I can tell everyone can feel it.

In the morning, my maids took their time arranging my room and fitting me into a red dress pooling around me, golden details on the collarbone and the sleeves. The fringes are decorated with embedded metals and stones, embroidery carefully sewn in the hems. The time they took in the makeup I’m wearing—too much blush, red lips, and black-rimmed eyes—told me they knew something I didn’t. Something important was happening, and I didn’t ask about it. I’ll gladly take surprise in an otherwise boring, dull life.

Turns out it’s not something but someone. We wait in the majestic entrance hall. Dad to my right, with mom clinging to his arm. Lucas and I share a similar pose as the maids all scurry to clean the last things they can before the thrilling arrival. The twelve members of the council stand behind us, their appearances groomed—even more so than when we have a meeting. It makes me think this visitor, whoever it is, is important and must have leverage over them, too.

“Why is everyone on edge?” I whisper to Lucas as he silently winks at a maid closer to the stairs looming next to us. She blushes in turn, bowing her head in a clumsy attempt to dust off the stairs. The room is as tall as a church, and colored glass filters light shining

on the white marble floor in a variant spectrum of colors from red to violet. Two staircases stand to each of our sides, leading to the second floor of the castle. Behind us, the kitchen and dance ball stand, though everyone barely pays attention to them. The ball is deserted for most of the year. “Who’s coming?”

With my arm linked to his, he moves his right hand to rest on top of mine. He doesn’t glance my way, his voice lowered to a whisper. “The family is foreign. They’re the ones in charge of the military,” he explains, eyes flickering everywhere but to the tall steel door looming before us. “They’re important people.”

I smile, making sure it seems like I fit in all of this when I couldn’t feel more out of place. My dress is too tight, the air is too compressed and my skin prickles with excitement and embarrassment. “Why is the military here, then? Is it the riots, again?”

His gaze flickers to me, perplexed for a moment, before he gives me a subtle nod. “It hasn’t been officially declared a war, though dad already calls it one. I guess he’s tired of the tantrums.”

If what mom said and what I understood is right, dad didn’t want the accord in the first place, he was forced to keep it. So why would he declare war against the people who share the same beliefs as him?

The council is making him. He has to oblige. The signature he traced over the coronation slip forces him to fight against his own people.

I crane my neck, staring at father’s imposing figure in a pressed black suit and polished skin. Not even one bead of sweat dares to betray his calm behavior. Mother next to him is a doll set on display. Flashing eyes and a wide smile on thick lips. Everything the country looks up to.

I turn back to Lucas. “So what? They’ll just call in reinforcements from our neighbors? Doesn’t that make us weak?”

He blinks away at a wall, thinking. “Lanese owes us a favor or two,” is all he offers.

My grip on his arm becomes tighter. “Lanese? Aunt’s Lanese?” My father’s sister, or my aunt, is the queen of our neighbor country. She married off more than two decades ago to James Norwood, the prince of the country. Now, with the diseased king, she took power five years ago, making us an ally of the country engulfed in an empire. Lucas nods in return, green eyes glinting.

“Dad signed an accord a week ago. Their soldiers will use our uniforms to not alert the citizens of our... issues.” He bristles at the word, blinking a few times to get rid of an invisible haze. “Heaven and James will help us until they’re solved. The council thinks it’s a smart move.”

“And when are they coming? Will we wait here forever?” I push, like Lucas can tell us the time and place they’ll come. Just as if on cue, dad stiffens beside me, squeezing my shoulder once. Instead of Lucas’ response, I get an angry glare from Lennon.

“Behave well, Alexandra. First appearances are everything.” After my encounter with him on the dance and my stupid ignorance, I regret calling him out. He felt the blow I gave him, for his tone now is cold, ignorant. He’s upset. But I didn’t know better before. I hardly do now.

Mom beside him quirks a quick smile at me, nodding. “This is very important, Alex,” she agrees, just as the doors are pulled open by two heavy-duty guards.

Behind the doors, the entrance to the castle is crowded. News reports will have something to say about this meeting. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with dad wanting to see his sister, but this isn’t her, but her army. The army’s general of another country won’t have

anything to do with us. This is a calculated risk father is taking, something he’ll have to cover up. And I know, like the magician he is, he will.

The mob opens to a black, menacing, gleaming truck big enough to fit ten people, the gorgeous fountain right behind it. Screams from the people gathering around are heard as our security pushes through, making sure the walk to greet us is secure and free for our visitors. We stand behind like statues, cameras flashing on us once in a while. We must keep our façade, though. We can’t move.

The door to the truck is opened by a maid, who all but runs just as the job is done, bowing down smoothly before skulking back to us. From the door, a woman emerges. Less than fifty, gleaming blonde hair and careful blue eyes. She smiles at the cameras; she enjoys all the attention. Her eyes are alive, vivid. A healthy diet has done wonders to her thin body and thick hips. A magazine model come to life. Behind her, a man with a mop of brown hair and a steady gaze jumps out, taking her side in a step and waving a hand in dismissal. Arrogance swings on his walk. He shares an air of power, making all the screams hush with just a glance. The last one to jump out is a man not much older than me—twenty-five at the most. His height is breathtaking. I’m not short, but not tall, either. Even from afar, I can tell he will be at least eight inches taller than me. Blond hair same as his mother’s, apparently. Green eyes like his father. And for some reason, in the midst of the chaotic crowd as he falls in line behind his parents, he finds my eyes.

I jump, startled, earning a chuckle from Lucas. “Oh, he is to die for, isn’t he?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes at his childish comment, pasting a fake smile to my face. With gritted teeth, I ask him, “Who is he?”

“Odin Abernarthy. Followed by Blue and Camil Abernarthy.” We merely wait, frozen in time, as they make their grand entrance through the tunnel of people. They cut the mob with the ease of a knife.

I nod. “So his father is here to plan a strategy with ours?”

Lucas smiles at this, his eyes focusing on me for a moment before going back to the family pressuring to meet us. “Hardly. Odin, the son, is the army leader.”

I can only stare at Lucas in disbelief. For someone this young to be the head of an army of a country and to be trusted not only to protect his own but ours talks about power. Talent. Danger. Lethality.

The woman reaches us first, bowing her head but not her body, her navy skirt and shirt paling in comparison to mother’s gown. Her wonderful body is another ornament on her husband’s arm. Long hair and perfect face, she cuts an impressive figure of wealth and luxuries. She shakes dad’s hand, kissing mom on the cheek. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” she says, eyes staring right through dad’s. He smiles tightly in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering from her to me.

I expect her to just bow her head at Lucas and me before leaving, but she does the exact opposite, sweeping in a low, practiced bow as her husband talks to father. “Princess Alexandra. A pleasure to meet you. Prince Lucas,” she mutters, her pale skin lighting up with a blush undertone. It should be weird for me to receive this kind of... adoration when father is still in power. It is. My stomach churns, Lucas’ charm attracting her attention for more than seems appropriate for a married woman.

They must have ulterior motives, I think to myself as I grab her husband’s hand, shaking it once while I nod with a smile on my face. The younger man, Odin, holds a proper conversation with Lennon when his own father couldn’t. “Don’t know how they heard the news,” Lennon explains, shrugging. “But I’m glad they’re here nonetheless,” he adds, signaling to the cameras and men behind the steel doors.

Odin smirks but doesn’t turn around to the multitude, nodding along, his hands behind his back. “I didn’t expect them to make a fuss of it. A foreign general shouldn’t cause much distress,” he replies. Despite the dismissal, his cheeks take a subtle pink hue. His accent is different, elegant and polite. Warm.

“What can I say? The royals will always be royals,” dad reasons, a pleased smile on his face. Swiftly, he points a finger to me, caressing my forearm. Sit still and look pretty. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Alexandra and Lucas?”

Odin’s cocky smirk is replaced by a light, genuine smile, jade eyes sweeping from father to me. “Your Highness,” he whispers as he bends down, bowing. He stands up in graceful motions, years of training earning him the equilibrium to take my hand without question, his lips lingering on my knuckles for a second.

A blush of my own blossoms through my chest. Lucas chuckles. “I heard great deals about you, Odin, but go easy on my sister.”

With my hand on his arm, I squeeze his bicep, letting my nails cling to the fabric as I keep a fake, rehearsed smile to my face. Dad can only stare. “You need to forgive my brother,” I say. “He can be quite impolite sometimes.”

My brother rolls his eyes, matching Odin’s cockiness with his own. “Oh, Alex. Stop giving us a hard time. I was only joking.” I know better.

Odin takes Lucas’ accusation in stride. “I won’t do anything regarding the future queen,” he tells us, leaning a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “I’m not a beast.” I turn my face, hiding a grin. His stature looms over me as predicted, though not in a threatening way. He is handsome up close, and the grin spreading on my features on its own is a sign of it. But my heart lies somewhere else.

“I’m sure you’ll show me around sometime though, right, Your Highness?” His eyes don’t gleam up. Instead, his seriousness steals the breath from my lungs. He went from cocky to serious and polite in a matter of seconds. A politician in the body of a soldier.

Before I have the chance to reply, dad butts in. “She will. Tonight, before dinner. Sounds good, Alexandra?” I hope my gaze when I turn to look at dad is menacing enough.

I nod, gritting my teeth. “Yes, father.”

Odin is a total stranger, an army leader who came here for dad, and father is willing to waste Odin’s time on me. Even if I don’t like it, I don’t have much choice.

Dad commands, I do.

A little thought without sense slips into my head: he’s sold his own daughter, too.

***

“The world must go slower here,” he says, eyes wandering to the ceilings and marveling at the walls, mouth agape. I understand his amazement. Someone like him spends hours on the battlefield or training quarters. The paintings and statues living inside the castle are my own friends and ghost, but for him, they’re wonders. He drinks them in greedily.

“Who could complain?”

I smile begrudgingly, my hands in front of me in the posture I’ve been shown all my life. “You’d be surprised,” is all I limit myself to say. Enough for him to notice my distaste.

He turns to me, his mouth closed for once. His lips press into a thin line. He has gorgeous lips. “What, Your Highness? You don’t like it here? It’s wonderful,” he concedes, quickening to match my pace.

I allow him to catch up with me, playing with a string of my dress. “I’m sure it must be. For you, anyway. You don’t really see what goes on inside. And you don’t have the whole kingdom relying on your shoulders.”

He takes a deep breath while I talk. After I’m done I can only wince. I sound like a petty little girl. “The crown does have its cost, I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head. He crosses his arms on his chest, but the movement is slow, sluggish. He listens to me, green eyes tracing my features.

I inhale, biting my lip. I need to keep my façade. If not for him, for me. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it. I’m just a little bit on edge recently,” I lie.

He must notice my deceit by the way his smile ghosts over his lips, his eyes twinkling with the fading light of the day above us. He lets it slide. “You’ve been kind enough to show me around,” he begins. I can only thank him quietly for the change in topic. “Even if you didn’t want to at first—”

He’s right. So he’s also perceptive, I think. Still, manners till the grave, I say, “I know it seemed like it but—”

“It’s alright, Alexandra.” His tone is firm but soothing. I’m taken aback by how familiar my name sounds on his lips, even if this is the first time he says it. He notices his slip, widening his eyes while trying to contain a crooked grin. “What I’m trying to say is, I might as well try and compensate for your amazing hospitality. You got any questions?”

I blink. “What kind of questions?” I’m not a fool to the nuances men his age love making when they’re among women. I slit my eyes at him, taunting his reaction.

He doesn’t miss a step. “Well, I’m a soldier, so I’d say war- related questions, but I’ll answer anything.” His hands dance on the buttons of his suit, badges glinting on his right shoulder. I nod once, but I know I’m not convinced.

“I can’t,” I breathe. My brain racks for an excuse. “I don’t...” Words fail me. I trail off.

As if reading my thoughts, he smiles, ruffling his blond hair with his hand. “This conversation, for the matter, will remain secret. The king, His Royal Highness, will never know. Ask away.”

I swallow, looking at my hands. This is what I want the most. A way to satiate the thirst in my mind. I want to know his purpose here. What dad wants with Odin’s family. I need to know how the war is, how many people die. Information I know I shouldn’t want but I know I need.

“What are you doing here, General Abernarthy?” My voice echoes on the space we’ve stopped at. I hadn’t realized I’d set my feet on the ground as if to anchor me for what I’m about to know.

We stand in the gallery. It lays wide and undisturbed, no guards around. A bronze statue of the first king stands tall before us, his face drawn and straight, every bit of the king he was. Behind us, various paintings hang on the walls. Yellow light flows from chandeliers high above our heads, and the air is still, heavy.

“I vowed to keep secrecy,” he begins, as I feel all hope leave me. “But I suppose nothing can be kept a secret from the future queen.” Taking a deep breath, he shrugs. “The rebellion is worse than what the king’s army can take. Lanese lent a hand, and I’m following orders of Queen Heaven and King Lennon alike.”

“Worse? How worse?” Even I’m no fool to not hear the tremor in my voice. More information I don’t know. I’ve been kept in the dark by father. By Lucas.

He takes his time answering, the words rolling off his tongue like he’s heard them before. “Last month the riots became a full-on war. The rebellion seems to have ties with a recently independent country, Nalyn.” I flip through the useless maps and classes in my

mind, trying to begin to understand what’s been said. What really is at stake.

Our country is Alemiss, surrounded by Lanin on the north and Toyar on the south, two of the main supporters of the decrees. Lanese, Aunt’s country, is engulfed by the sympathizer country ruled by an emperor, Spilten. This should be an issue since they seem to be expanding more and more, but as long as our portion of the map, the kingdom portion, isn’t touched by the empire, we’ve decided to stand down. Despite its geographical position, Lanese has good bonds and accords with Spilten, trading everything from gold to species. Nalyn is to our left, bordered by Toyar, Lanin and the sea. However, the knowledge of the map doesn’t disguise the spike of fear and wonder I feel inside of me.

Nalyn, an independent country. My mind marbles at the fact. The last time I remember they were a kingdom. Now that’s changed, according to Odin. How can it be?

I think he must be able to see surprise and awe flicker through my features, because he continues his explanation, stepping around the corner to resume our tour. Neither of us is invested in it anymore. I’m hungry for information, and I can tell he loves talking about this. It’s all he’s ever known and everything he was raised to adore.

“This is recent. In the last couple of years, the abdication of the king left a perfect window for a section of people that didn’t like the monarchy. Nalyn has straightened their position as a solidified and imposing country by helping your rebellion take place.”

I nod. Seems logic. “Why did the king abdicate?”

He winces, closing his eyes for a moment. “Riots got too much, I guess,” he mutters.

Oh. “So now it’s a war,” I continue, not missing a beat. “Has dad acknowledged it as such?” He nods. “And you’re here to help us stop the fire from spreading,” I say. Another firm nod.

“For the future queen, it’s perplexing you don’t know all this already, Alexandra.”

I shake my head, dodging his inquisitive glance. I can’t let him know how dad’s forces are implemented on keeping me in the dark. How much he knows but he refuses to share, storing this information in the ears of my innocent brother. “I’m just not interested in the... war.” The word sounds putrid in my lips, unholy. Wrong. I go on. “So, it’s a war now. Threats?” I ask, keeping my tone light but imperative.

“The same as always, I guess. They want the abdication of the king, or the decrees dropped. We know the crown will do neither, and if they do, we might be the next to fall.” We. He already sees the country as his own. “Winning this war is of interest to both Alemiss and Lanese.”

“What’s your view on this?” I ask, turning my body to gawk at him, my gaze unwavering. “In your eyes, I’m sure you’ve seen... outside. How is it?”

You can’t be afraid of knowing the answer if you’ll be a queen soon enough, Alexandra.

The thought immediately settles in my mind, though I can’t seem to push it away. It crawls around my brain, down my body, not leaving me alone. The only reason I’d become queen would be if dad died. Or was murdered. Or abdicated. And those aren’t things I want to happen, no matter how much I want the decree dropped. It’s not worthy.

Isn’t it? If I become queen by natural reasons, it will be when all of this is over, hopefully. But part of me doesn’t believe that.

Life isn’t fair.

His stiff posture droops, shoulders sagging. Sorrow flickers on his features for a moment before everything is taken away with a sigh. A storm broken apart by the fierce wind. Green eyes avoid my gaze, tone cold, mind farther away than this castle. “Being in the front of any battle is harsh,” he begins. It’s like hearing a balloon deflate. “It has taken its toll on me, and the soldiers who share my ranks alike.” As if in explanation he pulls up his sleeve, revealing a deep scar. It’s healed, but the body can only recover so much. The wound is pale pink in comparison to his ghostly skin. I stifle a hiss. “It’s harder than they paint it, alright.”

And it’s only one scar he’s letting me see. What about the other ones that must trail his body? His mind?

I don’t just see a soldier anymore. Before my eyes, Odin morphs from a soldier brought here to handle a war I don’t intend to keep, to an ally. “I’ll never experience it,” I tell him, my eyes laying on the scar, taunting. Good, let it be a reminder. “It’s unfair. People risk their lives for a purpose, an idea, and I can’t do the same because I’m too worthy for the realm.” I nod once as he pulls back his sleeve. We don’t continue walking. “What’s it like?”

I don’t mean the mental strain. I mean what he’s endured. What millions on both sides have had to go through. How thousands die. “The first battle I was in was seven years ago. I was eighteen. It was... traumatizing, to say the least. The war before, of course, wasn’t as bad as it is now. Not in Lanese, at least. We weren’t even fighting against rebels—it was a territorial dispute with Spilten. One of the many we’ve had. Even before the Bellfront accord was signed.”

The Bellfront accord is what Lanese and Spilten signed in order to keep an empire and a kingdom from clashing. Lanese had been once part of Spilten, but a revolution set on different beliefs created enough space to separate them with a border. I know that much.

“I remember feeling this rage. Not towards the soldiers of the other country, but towards our rule. Why would they waste human lives over something as forever changing as land? The rage fueled and overcame everything I felt. I’d shoot my gun, run towards the outposts as people, boys I knew, died right and left. Falling asleep with the moans of people struggling between life and death isn’t something easy, something worthy.” He stops. I blink, holding hot tears at bay. I shouldn’t cry, not over something so far away and minimal... but I want to. Because I’m just as defenseless and as vulnerable as those soldiers are. I’m manipulated and forced to do things I never would do, just like they are. This is the cost war has on us all.

I fight to find my voice, swallowing the knot in my throat. Don’t act like you didn’t know this. I knew. But it’s different having an imagination than someone living it. Someone who felt the fear in their veins, the sorrow in their bones. It paints it with a truth I can deny no longer.

“Why... why so young?” I stammer. He was my age when he joined. Like me, he was stripped from his innocence way too early. A sad smile stretches his lips. “I always knew I was born for this.

Dad’s the greatest general Lanese has seen, and I have to live up to that idea. He stepped down two years ago to give me his... legacy, if you must. I can’t say I enjoy it.”

The comment drags a good-natured laugh from me. “Look at us,” I say, dropping my hands. “People would trade everything to have our ranks, our wealth. But we’re miserable.”

His eyes rise again, meeting mine. He smiles ruefully. “Speak for yourself, Your Highness.”

I ignore his attempt at a lighter conversation. I’m not done yet. “Who’s winning?” I ask, turning around. We must be late for dinner now. Father won’t be totally displeased. After all, I’m entertaining his guest, but I don’t like what others will see. What Logan will see.

“Right now?” he questions, raising an eyebrow. I nod briskly as he follows behind me, careful not to step on my dress. “I’ve been on the ranks just twice this month, and we’re still planning strategies. But for the moment, it’s us. You.” His eyes betray the hint of

sadness his tone lacks. I feel the same sadness hold my heart.

It’s a good thing, though, part of me thinks. The selfish part.

Your kingdom, father and Lucas are safe.

But at what cost?

I exhale as we turn the corner, holding the banister as we descend the marble steps. I feel light-headed. Information soaks my brain. I could swear I’ve gained pounds on information. “They don’t have soldiers, do they? The brides?”

“Not trained like ours, no. Mainly young men, children. Women, mostly. Inexperienced, but chaos can be a good surprise factor sometimes.”

I nod at the guard by the door to the dining hall. “Good.” I don’t specify on the matter. If he’s like me, he’ll understand the hidden meaning behind it. If they don’t have the training, at least they have the surprise factor. That knowledge is something I know all too well.

We walk in as the whole chatter stops. Knives are set on porcelain with a ding, throats are cleared, heads rise to attention at our entrance.

Dad sits at the head of the table covering half of the room. His seat is plush and monstrous. A beast waiting for me. Chandeliers and candles twinkle in their eyes, glittering. Mischievous eyes look back at us, eyebrows raised. The council and the Abernarthys drop their heads in a sign of acknowledgment. It hurts to have to place a fake smile when everything inside me is changing, turning, twisting. I’m cornered by these people, and I’m no more than a puppet for them. They act like they don’t know what they’re doing. Like they don’t know what their actions spark all around us. Dad stands in greeting, mom beside him smiling warmly. At his left, his advisor and best friend nods in my direction. Lord Duncan.

Odin sweeps into a bow beside me, retreating across the room to the seat saved by his mother in front of my mother’s ladies. The seat between mom and Lucas stays empty.

Making my way through the crowd of eyes is suffocating. Everyone here knows something I don’t. People who I thought I trusted have kept things from me. Lucas is one of them.

A maid, his hair brown and sticky with sweat, pulls my chair out. “Your Highness,” he breathes, scurrying away before I get a chance to speak. In front of me, a letter lies. The glass plate underneath shows a black envelope. Greece.

My eyes scan the room that has gone back to quiet chatter, trying to find a familiar pair of gray eyes. Logan isn’t here. I exhale my disappointment mixed with selfish relief, taking the letter with shaky fingers.

I couldn’t care less about manners, not when I haven’t heard of my best friend for weeks. She is the only thing keeping me sane in a world like this. She and Logan are. And neither of them is here right now. I must go through whatever is going on alone.

Dear whiny princess,

Yep, it’s me again. From another part of the world dad insists on visiting for the sake of it. I shouldn’t mind, but the world is dull without your very mature jokes.

I don’t know why, but a part of me, that sixth sense I seem to share with everything related to you is spiking. I hope you’re not being your reckless self again. Know that, with every condescending smile you give those bastards you win their support. One day, when

your turn comes, you can change everything you’ve always wanted. What we have dreamed with all along.

I used to think I could. That was two weeks ago. Now I know better. How will I be able to tell her about the secrets I’vediscovered? No, I can’t. I won’t.

Even if I have no freaking idea where I am, I know where you are. And like always, stop being so grumpy, but most importantly, stop blaming yourself for something that happened when you were a toddler, Alex. Something that took place years before you were born. Your time will come.

I’m sorry for not being there to keep you sane in the middle of the court full of dull, shallow bastards. I miss you terribly.

Your partner in crime and your beautiful lady, Greece.

P.S: No husband still? I’d say you’re going sour without a man’s touch.

I smile secretly, putting down the letter as a plate is laid before me. The second-course meal steams, its odor filling my nostrils. My stomach grumbles in response, but my mouth remains firmly shut. I’ve lost my appetite.

I miss her terribly. She is the only one who truly understands me and my ideals, never dismissing them with a wave of a hand like the rest of the council does. But most importantly, she’s the only one not keeping anything away from me. The only one who knows even less than I do. And it is some comfort.

She thinks once I stand on the throne with the unwanted crown on my head, I’ll be able to change the whole world, the whole war. I used to think the same way, too. Now, thanks to mother, I know better.

Before I get the chance to think about it and dwell on my miserable situation with my back against the wall, the door to my left is opened, cracking against the stone wall. Two guards pull Logan by the arm rather harshly. Three more silhouettes, his family, stumble through the threshold in tow. Scared, silent shadows.

And then the siren wails.

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hii! i took a small hiatus, but unlike 1d, i'm back (lol im sorry, im feeling sassy today). i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and do let me know what you think about Odin (personally, i love him).

if you'd like to be tagged, lmk.

thank you so much for reading!

- goldenmel