“Aeron,” I say unapologetically. “Is it true? If it is, Father just might hang you. It doesn’t matter if you’re his favorite or not.”
Tryndon laughs from the bench by the hearth, thoroughly amused by the situation.
Rhys stretches his neck. “For now, just leave Amalia alone.”
“I don’t understand it,” I say, taking a seat next to Tryndon. “Is the princess that stunning? What in the world would make you lose your head like that?”
I haven’t seen Amalia yet. Braeton, Aeron, and I arrived back at the castle too late to witness the dramatic confrontation in the throne room, though I heard Amalia’s anger was a glorious thing. I’ve never seen anyone dare touch my brother, and supposedly the Renovian princess slapped him in front of half our kingdom’s nobility.
Word has spread that Amalia has a temperament like fire and ice—fiery one moment and frozen the next. Devin said Rhys barely escaped this morning with his head.
“She’s gorgeous,” Tryndon says conspiratorially. “I’d have made a move myself, but unlike Rhys, I am loyal to my kingdom.”
“Enough,” Rhys snarls.
I shoot my younger brother a chastising look, trying not to laugh. I’m so glad to have them back.
“Does Aeron know of your betrothal yet?” Rhys asks, deviously changing the subject from his turmoil to mine.
“No,” I say with a sigh. “At least, I don’t think he does. He hasn’t mentioned it, though now that I think of it, he might be avoiding me.”
Rhys shakes his head. “What was Father thinking? Why Aeron of all people? He must be out of his mind.”
“What’s wrong with Aeron?” I bristle, defending the man I’ve been in love with half my life. Or was in love with. That unrequited longing has ebbed in the last few months—no doubt due to a certain royal prisoner.
“Besides the fact that he swore he’d never marry?” Rhys says.
“Yes, besides that.”
“He’s…Aeron.” He growls under his breath as if his friend did something treacherous even though the knight wasn’t anywhere near Arowood when Father signed the arrangement. “And the situation is…complicated.”
“Why, after all this time, did Father suddenly decide to marry you off?” Tryndon asks me suddenly.
“Oh.” I look down at my lap. “Who knows why Father does anything?”
Deciding it’s a good time to leave, I rise. “I need to track Calvert down and make him do his lessons. I’ll see you both at dinner.”
“I should be going as well.” Tryndon stands, following me into the hall. As soon as we’re alone, he turns to me. “Do you still wish to meet Amalia?”
“Yes…”
“She wants to see her brother.” He flashes me a wicked grin. “Do you think you can find a way to sneak her into Braeton’s quarters?”
I study him for several moments, and then I smile. “I think I can manage something—but you’ll have to take care of Calvert’s lessons.”
Tryndon wrinkles his nose as if he’s thinking about it. Finally, he jerks his head in agreement. “Yes, fine. Go on.”
I walk down the hall to Amalia’s room, carrying a tray of tea, hoping to introduce myself. Well, that’s not the only reason I’m here—but that’s what I told Father when I passed him in the hall.
He seemed pleased—which is not at all how he felt about my visits to Braeton.
“Cassia,” Devin says when he sees me, looking as if he’s barely resisting the urge to groan. He’s been stationed outside the princess’s door—a task he doesn’t seem to relish. “She won’t see you, and unless you plan to barge in like Rhys, I’ve been told the princess needs her space.”
“How do you know she’ll turn me away if you don’t even ask her?”
“Fine.” He rolls his neck and knocks on the door. “Your Highness, Princess Cassia has come to see you.”
Silence.
I bite my bottom lip, worried the rumors of her foul temperament might prove to be true. “I have tea,” I call through the door. “And apologies.”
A moment later, the door opens. I expect to find Amalia’s maid, but it’s the princess herself.
Tryndon wasn’t wrong. Amalia is beautiful, like a painting. Her golden-brown hair falls down her back in soft waves, held partially up by a comb dotted with pearls. She’s taller than I am by several inches—almost as tall as her brother, in fact—with a graceful figure and delicate features.
I don’t even have to see them together to know she and Rhys would make a stunning couple.
She looks me over, scanning me from my braided crown to the hem of my long tunic. The garment is belted at my waist, and it flares out at my hips in a flattering design. But, nevertheless, I feel like a homely stable boy next to the Renovian princess.
I’m not intimidated often, but I freeze with a nervous smile on my face. I desperately want Braeton’s sister to like me, and between my father’s plotting, and my brother’s lies, the chances of it seem slim at best.
Amalia continues to study me with a frown, but it’s not fire nor ice in her eyes, but curiosity.
“You’re Cassia?” she finally says, looking mildly skeptical. “Rhys’s sister?”
I nod and hold up the tray. “May I come in?”
The Renovian princess hesitates as if she’s unsure. Finally, she nods, stepping aside. The moment she turns into the room, I flash Devin a triumphant look, which he returns with a roll of his eyes.
“Hello, Tamalyn,” I say to Amalia’s maid as soon as I enter. She was a kitchen maid before Amalia had a need for her, and she looks out of her element here. “How is your father?”
The girl stares down at the floor. “Still in the castle infirmary, Your Highness.”
“Why don’t you go see him?” I say. “I think we have everything we need for now.”
Tamalyn glances at Amalia and leaves as soon as the princess gives her an absent nod.
When she leaves, Amalia asks, “What’s wrong with her father?”
“He works in the stable. He stayed late a few nights ago, attending a sick horse, and he was attacked by a tiraith that slipped past the city gates. Thankfully, he was armed, or he would be dead.”
She glances at the closed door, frowning. Softly, she says, “I didn’t know.”
Now that we’re alone, I set the tea tray on a table and walk to the window. “There isn’t a passage from these quarters, so we’ll have to be creative about this. Do you think you can drop to the roof below? It’s only about five feet down. After that, we’ll slip into a lower room window—I unlocked it before I came up.”
“I’m sorry…what?” Amalia says, joining me by the window and looking out.
I glance at her. “Tryndon said you want to see Braeton. I’ll take you to him, but we must be cautious. I figure that if you can cross the Chasm, you can climb out a window.”
Amalia stares at me for several moments, and then she suddenly laughs. “You really are Rhys’s sister.”
“I am.” I unlock the window and push it open. “What do you think? Can you make it?”