1. Mare
Mare
The girl who gazed back from my reflection was not me. She was beautiful. Little lavender petals decorated her snow-white hair—hair woven in perfect braids. She looked noble. Proud. Her confident poise and regal bearing warned of an enemy not wisely crossed.
Tugging my fur cloak around my shoulders, I looked up from the lie reflected in the lake's waters.
A crudely painted target hung above the icy lake, and boys along the shore lobbed snowballs at it, hoping to dunk the child sitting on the rickety bench hanging from a thick tree branch.
An old Aenir game. Boys laughed and jeered, hoping to humiliate their friends.
One of the boy's snowballs found its mark. The tree branch holding the bench up groaned as the ropes twisted and flipped, dunking the poor boy into the cold water.
Girls weren't allowed to join. A gaggle of them watched the boys from a distance. One reached down to pack a snowball, but her mother grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back up.
My hand twitched, resisting the urge to make a snowball of my own.
Powdery snow fell from the black heavens, and I shivered. Why must the king insist we celebrate Winter’s Tide in our neighbor's frozen country?
Foreign relations could also be strengthened in the summer.
"Freezing to death?" A snide, irritating voice asked.
Sighing, I answered before turning around. "Yes."
My little brother sauntered through the snow-covered grass and stood at my side. He dusted snow from his handsome coat and straightened his crimson vest.
Liam had always been a vain little fop.
"Aren't you too old to pick fights with children?" He asked.
"Humor me. You go sit on the bench."
"And lose the last scraps of my dignity? Not a chance." Liam flicked his jet-black hair over his shoulder and stared at my trembling arms. "Have you lost track of time, dear sister?"
"Whose fault is that?" I crossed my arms. "The shitty pocket watch you gave me doesn't work."
"Why do you hold onto it, then?"
"Because I'm waiting for you to replace it."
"It was a life lesson, Mare." He leaned in. "Learn how to fix your own problems."
I scoffed and shivered. Of course, I'd never tell my brother I would rather bleed out in the streets than give up that broken watch. This little game was much more fun.
"It's Wassailing time," he said. "If you'd taken the watch to a repairman, you'd know that."
"Cheap delinquent thief," I spat. "Couldn't even buy his sister a proper gift. Stole her a broken one instead."
"Your face is turning red. I know just the cure for that. Come on." He winked and strolled away.
A smile tugged at my trembling lips.
There was one good thing about holding Winter's Tide in the frozen country of Muirashi, aside from our typical banter.
Hefting my skirts, I jogged to catch up with Liam.
Kentoro was a beautiful town, I supposed. Black buildings nestled along cramped streets in neat little rows. Snow covered their slanted roofs and large signs. But something about this place seemed cold and aloof.
Maybe it was because my homeland of Aenir was so chaotic and loud, by comparison.
An elderly couple shrouded in fur cloaks passed us by. The woman's gaze lingered on Liam, eyes darkened with disgust. Her husband glanced between us and gripped his wife's shoulders tightly, steering her toward the opposite side of the street.
Tucking a raven lock behind his ear, Liam offered them his most charming smile. I scowled. Startled by my rude expression, the woman turned away.
Her husband was happy to return my sneer, though.
"Not very princess-like," Liam chided.
"People like that don't deserve good manners," I said, burrowing into his side to share his warmth. "And I'm not a princess."
"Yet." Liam threw his cloak around my shoulders.
My little brother looked nothing like me—we weren't related, and everyone could tell. Men born with his warm brown skin never had pale green eyes—not unless they were a half-blood.
Most people called his kind foul-blooded. Laws forbid the intermarrying of races, and the children of these cursed unions were shunned. Two muted elements ran through their veins, rather than the purity of one.
One of his parents must have been Earthborn, the other Stormborn. He stood out in our home of Aenir, the country of pallid Stormborns, their hair the color of wind and air.
My father and I were pure-blooded Stormborns. More than a few people had shot us judging glances for taking a half-blood under our wings. But I had always regarded Liam as my little brother—nothing less.
Shaking off my annoyance, I raised my head.
"Why," Liam asked. "Were you moping by the lake if you can't stand the cold?"
"I was thinking," I said.
"Overthinking, you mean. Just be likable."
I snorted. "You're supposed to say, 'be yourself.'"
"That would be sabotage, sister," Liam said, pulling me across the bridge.
Frigid water rushed beneath our feet, but warmth bloomed on the river's other side. An orchard of leafless trees stretched into the distance, and a fire blazed at its center—stumps scattered around the flames, seating myriad people wrapped in heavy fur.
The people of this frozen country had matching countenances. I'd seen them smile only once—when they gathered around the fire, drank cider, and sang to the trees.
An odd tradition, but one Liam and I had made a point of attending every winter.
Well, Liam liked it. I simply came with him to ensure he didn't embarrass himself. The boy couldn't sing.
Neither could I.
An iron pot was roasting over the fire, and a rosy-faced man doled out its contents to participants.
The drink was free if you brought your own mug.
Producing two from beneath his coat, Liam handed them to the old farmer.
I watched the cauldron master ladle warm, mulled wine into the mugs, and grabbed mine eagerly from Liam when he offered it.
Sweet heat! It curled from the liquid and pressed into my palms. Sighing in blissful solace, I found a stump away from the crooning crowd to sit and defrost.
Liam sat beside me. "I have a plan."
"Why does that worry me?" I narrowed my eyes.
"Tonight—" He shimmied closer. "You know how our people are. Every woman in the ballroom is going to try to ruin your chances. I'll guard the perimeter, make sure you'll have no distractions."
"You're going to help of your own volition?" I leaned forward. "What's in it for you?"
"People who are staring at the prince aren't guarding their coin purses."
"I swear to Solathair, Liam, if you get caught robbing someone—"
"I've never been caught."
"Yes, you have. I had to bail you out!"
"Don't worry about me, then. Just focus on yourself." He took a sip of the cider. "And remember to thank your dear brother when the prince proposes to you."
Rolling my eyes, I tried to think of a witty retort, but it died on my tongue. Liam's eyes widened, and he blinked a silent message at me.
Stiffening, I turned around.
The crown prince of Aenir approached. Snow dusted his forest green doublet and silver cloak. Neatly combed hair the color of steel curled around his ears, and brilliant, dark green eyes focused solely on . . .
Me.
Liam nudged me and buried his face in his drink.
Shooting to my feet, I set down my mug and straightened my skirts.
"There you are." Prince Laiserian smiled. "Your father mentioned you liked this . . . " He trailed off, observing a couple as they sang lovingly to the dead trees. "Delightful revelry."
"It's the only time the people of Muirashi are happy," I said, mortified to be caught here, of all places. "I like to share it with them."
He chuckled and nodded at Liam. "Do you mind if I steal your sister? I'd like a word with her, before the ball begins."
Liam glanced at me, and our eyes met. His eyebrows twitched, and my mouth jerked in response. A silent communication we both understood.
It roughly translated to, 'Saints, Liam, it's really happening.'
'Don't fuck it up.'
"By all means." Liam bowed his head. "Take her off my hands."
Laiserian offered me an arm, and I took it. Liam smiled encouragingly as the prince guided me away.
"By the way. You wouldn't have seen my brother?" Laiserian asked.
"Has he gone missing again?"
"As always." The prince rolled his eyes. "Why Ferris is more interested in seedy taverns than balls, I’ll never understand.”
“My brother’s a scoundrel, too,” I joked.
“Is he?” Laiserian raised an eyebrow. “Your father has nothing but good things to say.”
“Because the brat’s charmed him.” I bit my tongue. I was talking to a prince, couldn’t I rein it in for one minute?
He chuckled. “But enough of that. I hear your father's trying to get you into the family business."
"He and I have different definitions of what our family business is."
Father was Aenir's chief diplomat. He'd trained me to follow in his footsteps, and the council had offered me a position I'd, to date, refused.
My destiny lay elsewhere.
The work of a diplomat in times of peace didn't sound particularly thrilling, anyway.
Laiserian regarded me curiously. "I can imagine. Had I suffered what you have? I'd be lost."
Keeping my face even, I dipped my head. I'd been lost my whole life. My father had brought me to the capital shortly after my birth and unknowingly saved both our lives.
A horrible storm had raged across the city of Tirnanog the following night. And in the morning, no trace of its people remained.
Our city, and all its people, had simply vanished.
The king had sent a handful of expeditions to investigate, but they found deadly storms where the city had once been. No one could even approach the outskirts, let alone the gates. After the deaths of several scouts and soldiers, they'd deemed the area too dangerous to approach.
And that was all I knew of what should have been my home.
"I want answers," I said, lifting my chin. "To lay my people to rest, if nothing more."
"I would not hope for anything more," the prince said softly. "But I did not ask to see you for such gloomy talk."
A joke tried to spring from my lips, but I held it back. I couldn't afford to throw away my chance with the prince. My actions needed to promise a cunning and well-mannered princess, not a court jester.
"Would you save me a dance at the ball?" Prince Laiserian asked. "I imagine you'll be swarmed with suitors, and I wouldn't want to miss my chance."
"Of course," I blurted out. "You can have the first."
Laiserian smiled and lifted my hand. "I look forward to it." He planted a kiss on my knuckles and bowed his head before walking away.
Pulling my arms back into my cloak, I watched his figure retreat into the snow and mist.
By the saints, was my far-fetched dream actually going to come to fruition? With the authority of a princess, maybe I could finally uncover the truth . . .
But I'd also be bound by a crown and forced to pretend for the rest of my life.
Rubbing my frozen nose, I heard a shout and turned around. A new boy had taken a seat on the tipping bench.
A mop of white hair, mis-matched freckles on his nose . . . I recognized him. Seamus, an irritating teenager who made a point of reminding Liam he was a “dirty foul-blood” every chance he got.
Trotting back to the lakeshore, I reached down and palmed a handful of snow, packing it into a ball. The flecks of white falling from the sky matched my hair and cloak. Maybe I'd appear as nothing more than a ghost in the mist.
The boys across the lake lobbed their snowballs across the water, missing the target. Focusing on the goal, I hurled mine.
Thwack. The ball of ice struck the sign, and the ropes holding the bench fell loose. Seamus screeched and plunged into the shallow lake.
A grin stretched across my face as I hurried away from the scene of the crime. Liam appeared from positively nowhere and joined my side.
"Nice shot," he commended. "Shall we go to the ball now, or would you prefer to play with the kids?"
"Did anyone see me?" I asked.
He smirked. "Not a soul."