“Where are they? Who did this? Are you hurt?” His rapid succession of questions made her flinch and the concern on his face grew even more pronounced. “I can help you—I’ve just come from the warfront and I know quite a bit about tending to wounds. Where are you injured?”
Evelayn’s dismay churned into an even darker emotion—mortification. “No,” she managed to get out. She stumbled back when he moved toward her. With her heightened senses she noticed things about him she never would have seen so quickly before. The traces of gold in his amber eyes that matched the hint of gold in his skin, the richness of his bark-brown hair. And the sudden tang on the air that she was fairly certain was coming from him, as it mingled with the citrusy scent she’d already perceived.
“No? You’re not hurt? Or no, you don’t want my help?” He paused with his arm slightly outstretched.
Evelayn fought to keep her hands still at her sides, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her wipe her still-damp cheeks. Her blood ran hot with humiliation. He obviously didn’t realize who she was, based on how he’d addressed her—or rather, the lack of propriety in his address. Perhaps she could escape before he discovered her identity and realized this disoriented wreck of a girl was—
“I must insist on lending my assistance. I’ve seen this many times—you’re in shock. If you will allow me—”
“I’m not hurt,” Evelayn cut him off, drawing upon every ounce of training to don her most imperious voice and regal expression … despite the mess she certainly must have appeared to be. “Thank you for your offer, but I will bid you a good morning and let you continue on your way.”
The Draíolon male’s eyes narrowed and she had the suspicion he didn’t believe her for one second. Before he could protest yet again, Evelayn whirled, prepared to dash away, just as she noticed her sentries finally heading toward her, their eyes wide as they took in, first, the destruction and then the strange male. They must have been truly lost to have only found her now, but it couldn’t have been worse timing.
“Your Highness, what ha—”
“Let’s head back, shall we?” Evelayn called out loudly the moment her sentry spoke, hoping to drown out his words. But her newly acute hearing didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath behind her.
Evelayn waited no longer. With a silent prayer that the Draíolon who had errantly attempted to come to her aid would never tell another soul how he’d witnessed the crown princess of éadrolan lose all control in the forest that morning, she kicked up her heels and sprinted past her sentries yet again.
It wasn’t until she’d made it back to the castle that she realized she’d never reached the lookout point to see if her mother had kept her promise or not.
EVELAYN HAD ONLY BEEN BACK IN HER ROOM FOR A FEW moments, trying to compose herself, when she heard the whisper-soft movement of Tyne’s hushed footsteps coming down the hall. Before her lady-in-waiting even opened the door, Evelayn caught the faint scent of roses and the mouthwatering aroma of her breakfast.
Tyne’s brief knock at her door seemed abnormally loud, making Evelayn jump.
“Good morning, Princess,” Tyne said as she bustled into the room from the adjoining chamber. There was a glimmer—a depth—to the rose color of her skin that Evelayn had never noticed before. Tyne bore a tray laden with a mug of mint tea, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a berry scone drizzled with honey—Evelayn’s favorite. She gave the princess a quick once-over, her eybrows lifting at Evelayn’s sweat-and-tear-streaked appearance. But all she said was, “How does it feel to come into your full power?”
Evelayn hesitated for a moment, not sure how to put it into words, then finally said, “Different.”
Tyne shot her a conspiratorial smile as Evelayn finished unlacing her boots, pulled them off, and padded over to the table by the large eastern-facing window where her lady-in-waiting had set down the tray.
“You’ll grow accustomed to it soon—then you’ll wonder how you ever lived in such a dulled state before.” Tyne bustled over to pull back the curtains, letting the sunshine stream in. Evelayn flinched at the onslaught of light.
“If you say so,” she murmured, cutting off a piece of the scone.
“You’ll notice the difference during training, as well. General Kelwyn said to tell you he’s not giving you the day off.”
Evelayn groaned as she lifted the cup of tea and took a sip. “Of course not. Because that might be perceived as preferential treatment, correct?”
Tyne just gave her a look.
“Fine. I’ll go to training.” She took another small bite of the scone, not looking up from the plate when she quietly asked, “Will I get to see my mother today?”
There was a long pause and then: “I hope so.”
Which meant Queen Ilaria still hadn’t returned to the castle from the warfront, just as Evelayn had feared. A flutter of nerves threatened to upset the bit of breakfast she’d already eaten, but she just nodded, still staring down at her food. “Thank you, Tyne. That will be all for now.”
“But, Your Highness, your dress—”
“That’s all for now,” Evelayn repeated.
“Of course. Call for me when you’re ready.”
Only after she heard the click of the door shutting did Evelayn glance over her shoulder to make sure she was truly alone. And then she stood up and crossed to the other window, the one that faced north, where far away on the border of éadrolan and Dorjhalon—the Light and Dark kingdoms—war raged. A war that had lasted for over a decade, with heavy casualties on both sides, including Evelayn’s father, the king of éadrolan.
She looked out toward the horizon, past the castle grounds, past the Dawn Temple, where the priestesses who weren’t at the border upholding the wards that protected them from invasion lived and trained, past the city that was built to the northwest of the castle, where so many of the royal court and nobles dwelled, to the glimmering forest that stretched all the way to the border. Somewhere out there, her mother was fighting alongside her armies, trying to stop King Bain.
Evelayn had begged her not to go on the most recent campaign, since her birthday was coming up, but the queen had sworn she’d be back in time to celebrate with her. Her mother had never missed one of her birthdays before, and this was such an important one. The ball honoring Evelayn coming into her full power was to take place that night—it was to be the social event of the year, possibly even the century. It had been longer than that since a true royal had turned eighteen and had a celebration, not since Queen Ilaria’s own, 105 years ago.
“You promised,” Evelayn whispered to the clear glass that allowed her to watch her people hurrying about their busy lives below, while she stood in her room, fighting back tears, afraid that there could only be one reason her mother would break her word.