Stolen Radiance (The Everlight Duology #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ASHLYN

The blade sang as I struck the air.

I preferred to pretend it was striking anyone who had ever wronged me.

Fyn’s lips tilted into a steady smirk as he leaned back into the castle wall. “It always amazes me how wildly confident you are with that thing when you are—”

“Human?” I asked. How utterly predictable of him.

“I was going to say chaotic with it, but sure we can go with that.” The sunlight highlighted the pointed tips of his ears.

“Bold words when you’ve arrived unarmed.” I sang it mockingly. “If I weren’t confident enough, only you would be to blame.”

His tunic was far too formal for sparring. It was a shame he wasn’t here for it, because I had energy to burn.

“The king and queen asked that I retrieve you.” He studied my stance—no doubt I’d hear what I was doing wrong.

My blade slid snugly into its leather sheath. “When do my sister and her husband expect me?” They rarely summoned me.

“They’re waiting for you in his study,” he said.

Whatever they wanted it apparently couldn’t wait until we all had dinner together.

“Now? I’m a mess.” Strands of hair clung to my brow. Dirt lined my pants from when I lost my footing.

“I highly doubt they’ll care.”

“You’ve delivered their message. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” With the sword wedged awkwardly under my arm, I raked my fingers through the bottom of my mangled braid.

“The matter concerns me too.” The normal playful cadence of his voice ceased.

“Lead the way, Lord Chancellor.” I enjoyed watching his eyes narrow when I used his title.

His gaze softened as he looked down at me. “Ashlyn.”

“Fyn.” I pressed my tunic down as it bunched up around my waist.

“Never mind.” His voice grew too soft.

“Oh, suddenly you have absolutely nothing to say?”

He turned from me, heading back to the castle as if I hadn’t said anything. “We’re late. We can discuss just how much I aggravate you later.”

My sword slipped from my grip, tumbling down onto the pebbled path.

“Months of training you for this.” Fyn stopped, peering back at me. “If you insist on learning the sword, you could at least learn how to carry it.”

I picked it up and chased after him. “In case you haven’t noticed, my legs are significantly shorter than yours.”

His swift pace made it harder for me to catch up with him. “I’ve noticed.”

“Princess Ashlyn.” Fyn gestured me into the king’s study when the guard drew the door back.

My sister’s golden eyes caught mine the minute I entered. “I assure you nothing we have to say requires your weapon.”

Lioran choked on his whiskey, nearly spitting it out as I propped my sword in between the bookcases.

He looked at her as if she were pure starlight—as if she could do no wrong. Envy tugged at me. No one here would ever look at me that way.

“Someone didn’t give me time to put it back,” I said.

Fyn only smoothed the crumpled edges of the paperwork that lined Lioran’s desk.

“Well, you’re here now.” Aelira patted the sofa beside her as she inspected me.

“A correspondence arrived from Estlen—an invitation.” Lioran set his glass down on top of the mound of paperwork.

Fyn carefully pulled it aside, blotting the parchment beneath it with a fabric square that he retrieved from his tunic.

“I’m glad to hear all is well with at least one human kingdom.” I inwardly cursed myself as I tried to still my face. No one required reminders of the war my kingdom caused. Certainly, I was already enough of a reminder. “I assume trade is going well.”

Aelira straightened out the creases in her new gown. The deeply hued fabric could only have been made with Estlen’s coveted dyes. Nythrel had nothing like it.

“All is well with trade—the ore is just as they promised,” Fyn said.

For weeks I watched the cartloads of metal ore arrive—all mined from Estlen’s mountain range. Each one would be used to rebuild after the war and expand Aelira and Lioran’s castle in the Heart of Lythira. “Will you travel there?”

“The invitation isn’t for us. It’s for you. Prince Soren is seeking a bride. He would like to consider you.” Lioran straightened the neckline of his golden jacket as if he was just talking about the weather.

My sister’s silence weighed on me.

I had to break it. “You wish for me to go?”

“We want you to choose what is best for you.” Aelira’s face was still and unreadable. It rarely ever was.

“It would be an opportunity to be among your own kind again if you wish it,” Lioran said.

An opportunity formulated by a kingdom that didn’t know me. I waited for someone to say something else—to urge me not to go.

There would be an insult from Fyn.

My sister would tell me how this plan wasn’t advisable.

But no one said anything else at all.

“How does this involve Fyn?” I watched him as he pretended to study the books that lined the bookshelf.

Lioran cleared his throat. “As the Lord Chancellor of Nythrel, Fyn oversees all negotiations like this. It is—”

“It’s a form of trade.” They would trade me. “If I go, does this solidify your trade route?”

The color washed from Aelira’s face. Her eyes widened. “You’re not being traded, Ashlyn. We would never trade you.”

I wasn’t easily convinced. Fyn had been far too reserved for this news. I couldn’t handle his silence. “I’d like to hear it from you, Lord Chancellor. Do you advise that I go?”

“I personally wouldn’t, but I am not the least bit interested in princes.” He slowly pivoted back toward me, but when he did his eyes only met mine for a moment before he turned to Lioran. “Maybe I should leave you three to discuss it.”

It was like I wasn’t even there—like he didn’t even care to see what I would say. My eyes drifted to Lioran’s study ceiling, perfectly painted with tiny golden stars.

Fyn knew exactly what discussion he was bringing me into.

He said nothing about it when he could have easily warned me.

“No, please stay. It seems you already know everything—that everyone did before me.” I tugged my hair too tightly, desperate to weave it back together into its braid.

I wouldn’t just sit and do nothing. “Has a pact been arranged already?”

“It would be formally outlined during your visit,” Lioran said plainly. “Once you and he agree to it.”

“I hear it’s the way true love forms.” Fyn slid his finger around the edge of an empty glass.

“Fyn,” Aelira scolded him.

“No, he has so much experience in this area. Certainly, we should listen to his expertise.” It seemed impossible that Fyn could make any woman swoon. His words pivoted quickly from humor to insult.

“Prince Soren writes that he wishes to decide only after you’ve met,” Lioran said.

How reassuring.

I too wished to see what he might at least look like first. As far as I knew, he could be absolutely awful.

“Is this a negotiation between your kingdom and Estlen or mine and Estlen?” They still had yet to truly answer it.

“The decision will remain with you both.” Lioran handed a piece of folded parchment to me.

The midnight wax seal was severed unevenly, rendering its design unrecognizable. I reviewed the words that could alter everything—something that I once hoped would be far more romantic.

“And if I find I can’t stand him? Am I welcome to return to Nythrel or will I be sent back to Bailoc?” I was accustomed to being a chess piece that was moved across the board without permission or advanced warning.

My brother, the King of Bailoc, had made sure of it.

Lioran’s eyebrows arched, causing creases to settle in his forehead.

There were few things I said lately that didn’t make the lines etch deeper.

“If you think there’s a possibility you will hate him, I don’t advise you to accept his invitation,” he said.

“Your presence in Estlen would be diplomatic. If the pact is not finalized, we welcome your return.”

I was taught to be diplomatic—to hide every emotion so that no one knew what I was thinking. Perhaps I was rusty.

The influences in the fae realm had me saying whatever was on my mind without a moment of remorse. “I haven’t forgotten how to behave like a princess.” I could easily return to it.

A human prince was seeking a bride—a political bride.

I knew how to be a political bride. I was raised for it.

It would give me status again—it would give me humanity.

Even if love never followed, that could be enough for me. “I promise I will conduct myself appropriately.”

Aelira looked to Lioran as if she expected him to fix me, or lecture me, but he only met her stare. I was convinced the two of them were having a conversation with their eyes only.

“Prince Soren is eagerly awaiting your response,” Lioran said like I hadn’t just read it myself.

Sometimes my greatest ideas were my wildest.

Maybe it would be exactly what I needed. And if it wasn’t, I could at least come back to Nythrel and live amongst the fae again—there was little to lose. “I accept his invitation.”

“You’re allowed to take time and consider it.” Aelira’s voice grew softer.

My sister had the luxury of choice. I hadn’t been afforded much of it.

I wouldn’t wait for a choice I liked less to be made for me.

“Prince Soren has quite the reputation.” Fyn’s accent suddenly seemed thicker as he spoke.

“Oh, and what is that?” Whatever he was getting at, he could say it. “Certainly, if it’s enough to change my opinion of him, you must utter it to me.” There were very few things that could change my mind—unless they said he beat women. I would have absolutely nothing to do with that.

“He is very bold and outspoken.” Fyn almost seemed like he lacked confidence when he said it.

As far as I knew, he hadn’t met the prince. At least I had heard nothing of it.

“Wonderful. We are one and the same, then.” A bubbling hum rose in my chest. “It sounds like a fantastic opportunity. I’ve heard only wonderful things about Estlen. I wish for you to send my reply.”

Lioran carefully studied me. “We shall send it promptly.”

“Are you certain?” Aelira asked. “This is—”

“I am certain.” I rose. “If there’s nothing else you need from me, I’d like to go wash up now.”

“You’re free to go.” Lioran gestured toward the door.

I nodded, picking up my sword as I left.

The chill of the castle walls cooled my skin as I leaned back in the hall.

Their voices were a low rumble, but I couldn’t make out their words. It was probably better that way. I didn’t know if I wanted to.

Prince Soren of Estlen wanted to meet me to discuss a potential marriage.

I agreed to it—like someone had asked me to tea or if I wanted to eat my dinner early.

Fear should have gripped me harder, but a fierce energy buzzed through me, forcing it out.

I liked the feeling.

Life among my own kind wasn’t really out of reach.

I had spent the past five months assuming it was, but then suddenly it landed right in front of me.