Page 100 of Falling Princess

“Are you treated well?” I asked one of the inmates.

“Better than I have any right to expect,” he replied. “Considering I murdered my brother.”

It’s a shocking admission, and I stumbled, hearing it. But he appeared genuinely remorseful so I choose to be the forgiving goddess in that moment.

“No punishment we can devise would ever compare with what you mete out to yourself. Once you’ve completed your sentence here, go forth and live in service to your family.”

That set the tone for the rest of my visit. Compassionate, forgiving, and just. At least, that’s what I’m aiming for. It all feels fairly pretentious, coming from a nineteen-year-old. Yet this is the role I was assigned, and so I played it as best I could.

I observed with interest a demonstration of the locking mechanism on the gates, and the secondary measures should any prisoner manage to evade containment. Practical mechanics always hold my attention. At the end of the visit, I recited a formal blessing, exhorted the inmates to contemplate their crimes in penitence and greet the new year in peace. After that, the tour was over. It could not have taken more than three-quarters of an hour.

Radimir took my arm as we ascended back into the main portions of the castle. His cheeks turned red, highlighting a few stray spots and his patchy beard.

We were trailed by Lord Duníja and the rest of the long-shot suitors who are desperate enough for any edge with me to have dared to make the trip. Ha. I wouldn’t consider any of the men who refused to visit the least of Auralia’s citizens, for my prince consort.

The truth is, I won’t consider anyone but Lorcan, but I don’t know whether or not he wants that honor. If not, I will have to make a decision. Soon. But not before I speak with him.

On the morning of the Midwinter ceremony, my maid roused me before dawn to bundle me into a white dress, elbow-length, fingerless gloves, and a royal violet spidersilk cloak lined with fur. By the time the sun had risen over the horizon, my father and I were trundling across snow-covered fields of Central Auralia on our way to the Sun Temple, halting at the base of the Plateau an hour later to traipse up the curving stairway through the center, which is the only way up.

I actually enjoy this part of the ritual. The passageway is lit only with small disks embedded in the walls, the same ancient power source that illuminates the Hall of Ancestors beneath the Temple. So many steps, taken in silence. There’s a meditative quality to the journey, a metaphor of walking through darkness to reach the light. Heavy-handed or not, I always liked this part.

At the top, we ascended into a world of crisp, bright snow and cold, fresh air. I inhaled deeply. The Temple was already full of people, mostly from the noble class, but also ordinary Auralians willing to brave the journey despite the deep frost. Each will have been searched for weapons by the royal guard, who lined the interior of the Temple in a formidable display of military strength.

Lorcan was not among them.

Not a single guard amongst the long row of uniformed knights is him. They’re all too tall. It’s not hard to scan along the line and see that the one man dedicated specifically to ensuring my physical safety is not among them.

I struggled not to let my disappointment show. I kept my gaze focused forward, following my father’s broad back, remembering the jolt when I’d seen Lorcan among them last year. How furious I was with him over that cursed paper, now in the hands of editors at academic journals, being considered for publication. The memory made me smile.

But it faded as I realized: he isn’t here.

Lorcan didn’t come when he said he would.

At the front of the Temple stood the stone effigy of the Goddess Auralia. I carefully pulled my skirts aside to mount the steps. It’s a ritual I have performed every year since I was ten years old. Nine times, counting today.

And then, beside her marble pedestal, I spied a pair of gleaming white boots and stumbled going up the last step.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

Catching myself, I lifted my chin and saw him standing near the vestibule where, when I arrive early, I sit out of sight from the rest of the audience. Blue eyes alight with mischief.

He’s back!I dragged my gaze away and took my place behind my father. Three feet from my appointed knight, and unable to acknowledge him. Giddy butterflies swooped in my stomach.

I don’t want this to be a secret. If I have to marry anyone, I want it to be him. But how do I ask?

From my right, a barely audible, “Miss me?”

I ducked my chin to conceal a grin.

“You know I did,” I whispered. “Did you miss me?”

“Every moment of every day, Princess.”

My stomach flips and flips. I want it to be him. But how to broach the subject?Would you like to be the next king once we graduate in six months or so? Oh, and by the way, we’ll both probably lose our best friend if you say yes?

Gods, no, that would be horrible. There’s no way he would consent to that. I wouldn’t, in his place. My father droned on and on. I heard none of it.

There came a tiny bump against the back of my hand. Without looking over, I turned my palm outward. Lorcan took it, and for a few seconds we were holding hands in front of all Auralia. No one could see us behind the tall form of my father, behind the stone wall bedecked with greenery. But for the briefest moment, it felt like we were shouting a declaration.

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