“I do not,” I chuckle, rolling onto my side to look at them. “People want what they can’t have.”
“Yes, they do,” Dary sighs, biting into an apple.
“I think, whoever enters, I’ll be happy. My parents wouldn’t marry me to someone who’s unkind or improper.”
“That’s true. They adore you and I love it.” I’ve never met someone so spoiled as Mira in all my life and that’s saying something, coming from a princess. “Your father dotes on you. He will make sure the man who ‘wins’ is someone who will do the same, I’m sure.” I swallow the smile spreading across my face and rest my head on my hand, looking at them both in turn. “I think you and Dary should wed.”
Silence falls across our little picnic and I sink my teeth into the side of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. The panic on Mira’s face is priceless and the utter confusion on Dary’s amuses me to no end. I have my suspicions, and they’re only suspicions, but this little game is fun.
“What?” Dary asks, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.
“No, no, no,” Mira laughs, shaking her head as she dismisses the thought. “I think we’ll save Dary for you, just in case you need an understanding husband to produce heirs and leave you alone, otherwise.”
“I’m not a breeding stud,” he scoffs, flipping his long hair over his shoulder. “I do have feelings, you know.”
“Oh, we know,” Mira laughs. I narrow my eyes on her, wondering what she means, precisely. Dary doesn’t have feelings for the serving girl, he hasn’t known her long enough. As my gaze slides to the scandalized man opposite the blanket, I roll my eyes.
In truth, it was something we’d discussed before we called our engagement off all those years ago. Before we went to our parents and told them we didn’t think we should wed, Dary had made me a promise. If our parents refused to dissolve the agreement, we would wed and live our own private lives as much as we could. It wasn’t ideal—and thank the Gods it hadn’t come to that—but it was very much a reality we’d already faced.
“I can’t wait to see Callum compete in the tournament—”
The ringing of the bells sounds across the hills and my nose wrinkles as I sit up, looking at my two friends curiously. “Haven’t all the royals arrived, already?”
“Yes, the last of them arrived last night,” Mira answers quickly, rushing to her feet.
I follow her to the edge of the knoll with Dary at our side as we peer down at the road. “The jubilee begins tomorrow,” I mutter, curious who would interrupt such an important celebration. The bells wouldn’t ring for just any noble.
“Is that a snake on the banner?” Mira gasps.
I squint my eyes trying to see clearly. She’s right. On each of the banners, a green and gold snake winds around a sword. “Is Izvora coming to the jubilee?”
“They never signed the accords,” Dary growls. I look to my left to find him scowling down at the party as it approaches the castle. “Is it an attack?”
“There’s no formation, Dary. It’s not an attack.” I look down on the horses with curiosity as they prance toward the castle, noting there is no royal carriage. Instead, two people ride side by side at the front of the procession, both faces hidden by helmets.
“Of course,” he mutters, hurrying to roll up the blanket and fetch the baskets. “Come on, they’re not part of the accords de paix. They never signed. If they’re here peacefully, it’s history in the making and you won’t want to miss it, ladies.”
Mira giggles beside me and I smile, shaking my head before casting one last look down at the waving banners. Izvora has come to Vanir for the jubilee. What a strange and amazing thing to happen.
They’ve isolated themselves for generations—for as long as anyone can remember, really. I wonder what’s changed?
Still, if they’ve come to sign the accords de paix, it’s a monumental occasion. My father—and the rest of the royals—will be beside themselves to make an ally of the northern kingdom. The possibilities for trade, the cultural exchange . . . it’s all very exciting.
And meeting the northern kingdom! I shake my head with a smile and follow my friends back toward the castle. I hope Izvora comes with good news.
As we burst through the courtyard, I find Ona and my father waiting at the bottom of the steps, looks of surprise scrawled across both their faces.
“Izvora is here,” I rush out, coming to stand by my father’s side.
“So, I’ve heard,” he murmurs, stroking his long white beard. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“It’s a blessing,” Ona smiles. “Izvora has never signed the accords or joined the fellowship the rest of Lazoreat enjoys. The Gods are smiling on us today.” Her bright eyes twinkle and for a moment, I think she actually looks happy for once. It’s a strange sight. I’m so used to the mage being the picture of grace and cool demeanor. It looks good on her, I have to admit.
“If that’s why they’re here,” my father sighs, shaking his head. “I’ve never met this king. I received a letter from him once, many years ago, saying some of our knights were passing through Izvora land as they escorted a merchant to the northern sea. I responded, letting him know I’d be sure to have them avoid that trail in the future, but he never wrote back. They’re a strange people, I think.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge, Father,” I chuckle, excitement bubbling in my chest as my eyes dart around the courtyard. Dary stands with his mother and father and Mira makes her way to my side.
Two large horses stride into the courtyard at the same time, each mounted by someone completely clad in full armor. The horse to my left holds who I can only assume to be the queen. The chainmail hugging her body makes it obvious that there’s a woman tucked inside that armor. On the right, a much larger figure sits atop his horse—the king.
“Izovra,” Father calls out cheerfully, no sign of the hesitation he mentioned only moments ago. “Welcome to Vanir.”
The man on the right pulls the helmet from his head, long blonde hair falling around his face as he shakes it loose from the metal. “Thank you,” he murmurs, surveying the crowd as the woman to the left repeats the process.
She’s beautiful, I realize, as her long golden blonde hair tumbles down her back while she tucks her helmet into her saddle. Her sharp gaze looks around the courtyard and I wonder what sort of warrior queens the north has hidden for all these generations. The woman is fierce.
“What brings you to Vanir during the jubilee?” Father asks, motioning some hesitant servants to move forward and take care of the Izvoras’ horses. The king slips down from his mount and while I expect him to hold out a hand for his wife, she dismounts completely on her own, her hair falling around her face as she fiddles with the saddlebags of her horse.
My eyebrow arches as I watch the strange display. The northerners have strange etiquette . . .
“I’d like to speak with you privately about that,” the king murmurs.
My gaze falls to my father as his shoulders square. “Of course,” he murmurs, gesturing behind him to the castle. “I thought we’d have more of an introduction, but please, follow me.”