sneak peek

The moon was still high in the sky, and the sun had not yet risen, but Chhaya had found herself unable to sleep. It was rare to catch her home so still, so peaceful.
Beneath her thick woollen cloak, the chill of the icy air bit through her fine gown and into her skin. In her sleep-addled daze, she’d had enough sense to change from her slippers to her riding boots, but no amount of clothing would protect someone from the harsh chill of winter in Khiona. She ran numb fingers through the dark curling tendrils that had already tangled together in the bitter breeze as she peered over the edge of the bridge, her own tired face reflected back at her in silver.
Inhaling deeply, Chhaya closed her eyes, allowing the spicy scent of budding witch hazel to fill her senses, as her palms pressed into the thin layer of ice crystals covering the stone railings.
A rustle in the trees behind her made her turn, but the soldier who had accompanied her on her stroll moved faster, spinning and gripping the handle of her sword.
The truth was, Chhaya was well aware that a single sword wouldn't be able to do very much against the Blood Magicians who had, until three months ago, been terrorising the people of the Khiona Kingdom. The soldier would need much more than a blade to protect them.
But as footsteps crunched over frosted blades of grass towards them, Chhaya couldn't bring herself to worry. Here, in the shelter of her home, she knew she was perfectly safe. Even before the war, the Blood Magicians wouldn't have dared to come close to the palace, let alone within its grounds. No, there were far too many soldiers here. Soldiers with Magic of their own.
While it was true that Blood Magic was more potent than any other form of Magic, a larger number of trained soldiers would always have the upper hand.
From the shadowy cluster of trees, a figure emerged, and the soldier relaxed again at the sight of another marching across the slippery cobblestones towards them.
Who in the Three Kingdoms would have known to look for her out here at this time? With a sigh, Chhaya returned her gaze to the lake, embracing her final moments of peace for the day.
“Your Highness,” the second soldier greeted, and Chhaya turned to face him, his head lowered into a bow. Like all soldiers in the royal guard, he was adorned in gold and burgundy, the colours of Khiona, the royal crest embroidered over his chest in midnight thread.
“Good morning,” she answered softly.
He raised his head, the tips of his nose and ears pink from the cold. “His Majesty requests your presence.”
The princess frowned, glancing up at the still-murky sky above. The violescent hues of dawn were just beginning to peek over the horizon, soaking the trees with shades of lavender and rose. What could her papa require so early in the morning?
“Your Highness?”
Chhaya nodded. “Very well.”
Minutes later, Chhaya emerged into the hallway, warmer than outdoors yet still chilled with the stillness of night. The chinking of armour followed her, echoed by the heavy tapping of boots on stone.
Silver threads glistened through the windows, stars still blanketing the sky. Sweet tendrils of fresh bread wafted through the corridors, along with the sourness of curd, making Chhaya's stomach rumble. Perhaps an early breakfast would be in order this morning.
Wordlessly, her papa’s footman, Yash, sank into an easy bow of greeting outside his office before opening the door for her.
The soft glow from the fireplace lit up burgundy walls. Wide cabinets loomed over her papa, who was slumped at his desk, his eyebrows folded in a deep frown. Chhaya couldn’t tell if it was because of the long casting shadows, but the bags under his eyes seemed more prominent than usual. For such a tall man, he looked small in the early morning gloom, the shadows of his deep grey hair leaking darkness over his face as he leaned over sprawling sheets of creamy parchment.
"Chai," he said, brightening at the sight of his only daughter. Chhaya returned his smile as he stood and pulled her into a tight hug. As a young girl, she had detested his nickname for her—she had so hated being nicknamed after a beverage—but she had grown to love it over the years.
It was only when he released her that her eyes locked on the inky curls in the leather seat before her. This was bound to be serious if the king’s advisor was also here so early in the morning. He stood, tall and proper, bowing to her in greeting. His tunic was hand-embroidered with the finest threads of amber and garnet, glimmering even under low candlelight. “Good morning, Your Highness.”
“Good morning, Hassan.” He was a Lord, but she never used his title, nor did he expect it.
“Thank you, Hassan,” her papa said, warm but dismissive. “We will speak later.”
She waited for him to leave, closing the door behind him before she turned back to him. "I hope you have a good reason for summoning me so early in the morning, Papa," she joked with raised eyebrows, watching as he poured her a large cup of chai from an orange and yellow clay teapot, dropping in two glittering cubes of sugar.
He raised a brow in return as she accepted the delicate clay with eager hands, the heat from the steaming cup warming her still-numb fingers almost immediately. The sweet, fragrant promise of cardamom and cinnamon curled around her like a blanket. With a heavy groan, he settled back into his chair.
As he gathered his papers, rustling them into a pile, Chhaya leaned back into her own chair, head resting on finely-woven cushions. Her eyes closed as she allowed the heat of the crackling fire to flush through her, enjoying the soft tingling in her cheeks as they turned pink, the spices from the tea heating her throat. It wasn't often that Chhaya was awake at this hour, but she adored the peace that came with the dawn; the hallways were free from clattering steps and chattering voices, the kitchens were quiet, and she had her papa entirely to herself.
It was the mornings like this, the moments of calm, when she could truly enjoy his company. She grinned at him, eyeing the ornate marble chessboard that sat behind him underneath an arched window. She had had it made for him as a birthday gift two years prior, but they hardly had the chance to use it.
Tension curled into his cheeks, tightening his jaw as he glanced over the parchment once more, and Chhaya rose to her feet, removing her boots to enjoy the tapestry of the thick, expensive rug against her toes. "A game, Papa?"
His lips twitched into a whisper of a smile as he glanced back at the board, but he shook his head. "There is something I need to discuss with you, beta." His twinkling eyes, previously humorous, morphed into something deep and heavy.
But she moved anyway, shifting the chessboard to sit in between them on his desk. "We can talk and play, Papa. Unless, of course, you don't believe you can multitask?" She flicked an eyebrow up in challenge.
He huffed out a laugh, half-hearted but acquiescing. "Very well, though I want no tears when you lose."
Rolling her eyes, she held out two hands to him. "I haven't cried over a lost game since I was a child. Take your pick."
With a hum, he relented, tapping her left hand. "I seem to recall a game of backgammon last year over which you were quite upset." She opened it to reveal a glistening white pawn.
Her lip twitched. "You know very well I was not upset that I lost. I was angry that you cheated."
"We will continue to disagree on that note, beta." His voice was stern, but amusement had returned to his eyes.
"Tell me, Papa," she began, her voice low as they made their opening moves, "what is on your mind?" Her eyes flickered to his face, studying his reaction to the pieces. A whisper of sunlight now trickled through the window, colouring the grey ends of his hair amber.
"Your twenty-second birthday is approaching, Chai," he replied, voice smooth and steady, giving nothing away as he slid his rook across the smooth marble.
With light fingers, she replaced her father's pawn with her bishop before taking a long sip of the golden liquid in her cup. "I am aware," she joked. "Surely that is not what is bothering you? You are worried about the gift you have chosen for me?"
"Certainly not, Chai. I have never known anybody so easy to find a gift for. I am sure you will love what I have selected for you this year."
Chhaya grinned. "You do have impeccable taste." She fingered the bracelet on her left wrist—a circle of thin vines interwoven with delicate strands of honeyed gold. She never took it off.
"You are playing a good game for somebody who rarely gets the chance to practise." He rested his chin on a fist.
Crossing one leg over the other, her lips curled into a smile. "You forget I had a rather talented teacher." She narrowed her eyes as he captured her first rook. "What is it, precisely, about my twenty-second birthday that has you so worried?"
Silence lingered between them, bleaching the sun rays of their warmth. Shadows flickered across the king’s eyes, tightening his lips. It was brief, but Chhaya caught it. "For a long time, I wondered if I would see your twenty-second birthday." His words came almost from nowhere, and Chhaya froze, chest tight.
"But here we are," she said, voice low and even. He wasn't the only one who had considered such morbid thoughts; it was difficult not to, after that night so many years ago. It was impossible not to live with the constant reminder of what they had lost—of what the entire kingdom had lost because of those monsters.
A comforting hand covered her own, drawing her attention away from the board. His smile was soft, but his eyes lacked their usual sparkle; he was also thinking of her mother.
"After so much hardship, I wish for nothing more than for you to be happy, beta."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I am happy, Papa. I adore spending time with Gaia and learning from her. I know you believe I should increase my courtly duties, but learning to heal and to care for our people is surely just as important."
"While I do agree that you should increase your courtly duties, as does the rest of the court, that is not at all what I am referring to." He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. Even without the looming shadows of night, he looked exhausted. Perhaps she did need to be more involved after all, to alleviate some of his burden.
"Chhaya, you are… of age," he mumbled, waving a hand in a vague and confused gesture towards her.
"Of age?" Her brows bunched as she tilted her head.
"Yes. For marriage."
She blinked at him. Marriage? Never in the Three Kingdoms had Chhaya expected to have this particular conversation with her father. "I do not wish to marry," she stated flatly.
His shoulders sank, but his gaze remained fixed firmly on her face. "You have mentioned your lack of desire to marry on more than one occasion since you were a child, but you are no longer a child, Chhaya."
Her eyebrow flicked in defiance. "My wishes remain the same."
"You are the heir to the throne, Chai. The court and I—"
"Papa," she interrupted, slamming her now-empty teacup on the hollow wooden surface of his desk. "I do not care what the members of the court think. I'm surprised that you care so much for their opinions regarding your daughter."
He huffed out a long breath, rubbing his forehead. "I am not relying on their opinions, Chhaya. But you must understand the logistical aspect of your decision. You will require an heir someday."
She shook her head, clenching her teeth so tightly her temples throbbed. "So I will adopt when I am ready. If the court are so very concerned and insistent on my having an heir, I will ensure I have one. That hardly means I need to marry."
"It’s not just an heir, beta," he argued, his voice an uncomfortable mixture between pleading and stern. But his eyes softened as he looked over her face. "Chai, listen. At some point, you will sit on the throne. You will,” he insisted when she attempted, once again, to interrupt. “And I know first-hand how difficult it is to rule alone. Since your mother….” He sighed. “It is not something I would wish for you, not ever. Having said that, the last thing I want is for you to be unhappy or with someone you did not want to be with. And so, I have a proposal."
Her stomach clenched at the reminder of what had happened, heart racing at the memory.
"Our people have been through so much; they have experienced loss and tragedy unlike ever before. They have suffered, and they are exhausted. More than anything, they remain in fear." Between them, cinnamon wax candles flickered, lengthening the shadowy depths of his face and filling the space between them with the warm aroma. "They need some light. And I thought perhaps we could turn this into something for everybody, to bring hope."
"But a wedding? My wedding?" Her lips twisted in bewilderment. "I refuse to believe this is the only option you have thought of. And I will not do it."
He nodded, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Perhaps not a wedding, but some members of the court have suggested an event of sorts. They propose we invite all the eligible suitors, and the princes, princesses and other members of royalty, from ours and the neighbouring kingdoms to stay with us for a month. Perhaps we can even reach out to the Southern continents. You can have the chance to meet them, and they have the opportunity to meet you, and—"
She stood, her lips set in a firm line as she snatched her discarded boots from beside the desk. "I will say it again, Father. I do not wish to get married. I do not want any princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses, or any men or women or anybody at all in this castle. I do not wish to entertain people who are after my money and my crown for a month, and I do not want to parade about, pretending to be interested in marriage, in front of our people.”
"Chai—"
"No, father. I don't want to talk about this anymore." He flinched at the word ‘father’, but Chhaya could not bring herself to feel sorry for him, her hands practically vibrating with anger as she stormed from the room.
She was nobody's pawn and nobody's doll to do with as they liked. She was the future ruler of this kingdom. And she would be treated as such.

***

Sweet rose lightened the air, the clean aroma of lotus flower clinging to the room from the last remnants of incense. Tall wax candles decorated the living room, filling it with a soft, warm glow as bleached sunlight leaked through the window, spilling cool grey onto the silken rug of gold and burgundy. Chhaya lounged on a deep-cushioned couch, book in hand, her eyes rolling over the same paragraph for a third time.
It was no use. She abandoned the leather tome on the small mahogany table before her, flinging her legs over one arm of the couch and burying her face into the thick, finely-woven blanket decorating the back of the couch.
Marriage. Her papa wanted to force her into marriage, and he couldn’t even give her a good reason for it.
A delicate tap at the door cut through the gentle crackling of the fire. “Come in.” She exhaled, lips pulling into a smile as the sight of her handmaiden eased the angry fluttering in her stomach.
“Good morning, Chhaya,” Della greeted warmly, carrying over a gold tea tray. Her long, night-black hair was twisted into a long braid, cascading down her back to her hips, and her cheeks were flushed with cold. The burgundy muslin of her uniformed dress hung loosely around her frame, the fabric shifting around her with each step.
Of all the people in her life, Della and her papa were the two she considered family. As the daughter of Chhaya’s nanny, Della and Chhaya had all but grown up together. With Della, there were no secrets, and there was never any judgement.
Chhaya sat up, brushing bare feet against the fibres below. “I am glad to see you, Della.” Her words were genuine.
Della shifted her weight between her feet. “My apologies. I know I am slightly late, but your father requested my presence.” Her eyes flashed sheepishly, and something sour twisted in Chhaya’s gut.
“If he has asked you to convince me to go ahead with this ridiculous plan of his, I’m afraid you will both be disappointed.”
Della hummed, but settled into filling a gilded cup with chai, topping it with an extra spoonful of sugar before holding it out to her. “I made it,” she confirmed, to Chhaya’s delight. “With extra cinnamon.”
Chhaya raised a brow, sceptical. Della rarely made the chai herself—she didn’t usually have the time for it, even if she was rather talented at the practice. “This is a bribe, then?” Even as she asked, she allowed the toasty scents to coil around her.
The handmaiden scoffed. “It’s not a bribe, Chhaya. I just thought I would bring something to warm you while I prepare your bath.”
“Wait,” Chhaya interrupted before Della could make it to the bathing room. “The bath can wait; do you have time to join me for a cup?” She tilted her head to the still-steaming pot.
With her bottom lip gripped tightly between her teeth, Della nodded, her shoulders easing from their tension ever so slightly, as she poured a second cup and took a seat by the fire. Her eyes were fixed on the flames as she spoke. “His Majesty did ask me to speak with you.”
Chhaya’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I knew it. I am sorry, but I have already made my decision.”
The handmaiden shrugged, turning to face her once more. “I don’t intend to try to convince you to change your mind. In fact, if you don’t mind my saying so, I disagree with His Majesty’s idea. You shouldn’t be forced to marry against your wishes. We no longer live in such an antiquated society.”
Her fingers loosened their angry grip on the teacup. “Thank you; I feel as if he is trying to sell me off. And the idea that my getting married, that a big royal wedding, would make any difference to our people at all is insulting. They have gone through far too much for their problems to be solved with entertainment.”
Though she stayed silent, Della froze mid-sip. Interesting.
“Della, do you have any thoughts?”
The answer came too quickly. “Certainly not. You are quite right—it would devalue their suffering to assume that a wedding could fix it all.”
The princess leaned forward. Her best friend was speaking around the truth, and she would not have it. “You do not believe it would fix it, but you think it may help?” Again, Della remained silent, but her lack of a response was enough. “Truly, Della? How in The Three Kingdoms would my getting married help anybody?”
Della sighed, lowering her teacup with a clatter. “As I said, I do not think your getting married would fix anything. But I do think people need some hope in their lives. The war, all of those deaths, really affected morale. My own family are struggling greatly, and I know others in town are, too. The truth is, everybody is still frightened.”
“I—I can think of a way to do that, I am sure. We can have a ball, or a festival through the kingdom. Perhaps we could host a night circus for a fortnight, as we did when I was much younger, before—before everything.” The ideas flooded through her, her mind racing to think of ways in which she could help her people. She truly would do anything for them.
“Those are all fantastic ideas,” Della said softly. “Everybody would enjoy a night circus—I, for one, loved that last one.”
When she looked up, her friend’s eyes were gentle and filled with sympathy. They were bordering a little bit too close to pity for Chhaya’s liking, but she knew Della only wanted to help. “What do you suggest?” she asked finally, resigned.
Della placed a warm hand on Chhaya’s, grazing the back of her hand with her thumb. “I have known you for many years. On numerous occasions, you have sought my counsel.”
Chhaya frowned; she was being too nice, too friendly to be preparing good news.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I think you should consider your father’s plan—at least, part of it.”
Chhaya could not believe what she was hearing.
“I don’t mean you get married,” Della clarified, before Chhaya could argue. “I’m not suggesting that at all. But inviting people from across the Three Kingdoms could be fun. You would get the opportunity to learn what the other Kingdoms are like, I know you have always wanted to experience them for yourself. And I do think it would be a way to lift everybody’s spirits, a welcome distraction for all.”
“Just host the eligible bachelors here in the palace?”
“Precisely. You wouldn’t need to marry anyone, you could simply host them for a month or two, and enjoy it. Allow your people to enjoy it.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “It would also alleviate the pressure from your father, as well as on His Majesty, from the court.”
That didn’t sound so terrible. And Della was right, her papa wouldn’t give up so easily. At least this way, it would happen on her own terms.
Her friend seemed to take her silence for further hesitation, for she stood, clearing away the used cups. “You do not need to make a decision now. I only ask that you think about it.” Her smile was tense, but warm.
“How are your family?” Chhaya asked, guilt rushing through her at not having asked before. If they were struggling, perhaps there was something she could do to help.
Della’s smile tightened, and for a moment Chhaya regretted asking; if she wanted to talk about it, she would. “We are fine, I thank you for asking. I will prepare your bath, so that you can get ready before we join the others for breakfast.” She disappeared into the bathing room, and before long, the steam carried out notes of dried lavender.
A hot bath was exactly what she needed.

***

Icy air numbed her nose, and the wind threw her hair back, but Chhaya simply could not stop smiling. She squeezed her thighs tighter, urging her midnight stallion to move faster through the trees. The tangled fog of her thoughts was finally starting to clear, wiped away by the fresh air and the peppery residue of juniper berries.
Della was right; she needed to do something. And perhaps hosting an event like this wasn’t such a bad idea.
Leaning forward, she encouraged Shadow to speed up.
Welcoming so many people would encourage peace between the Three Kingdoms, and the court would finally accept that she was truly trying to be a good ruler for her people. She would have to negotiate with her papa, but she was confident she could get him on her side.
Slowly, when her chest was tight and her lungs were well and truly burning, Chhaya brought Shadow to a stop, letting him rest as she also caught her breath. The brushing of dry grass behind her told her that Devan, the guard who had accompanied her, was finally catching up to them.
The skies were a murky grey, and though she would have liked to stay out for as long as possible, enjoying the fresh air and the company of the trees, she didn’t want Shadow to slip on muddy grass. She stroked her horse’s neck softly as he whinnied, before tugging at the reins and turning him back around to face the palace. Marble domes peeked over hazy clumps of clouds like beacons.
“Is everything okay, Your Highness?” Devan asked as he came to a stop beside her.
She shook her head. “It looks like rain; we should return.”
He bowed his head in agreement. "Yes, Your Highness."
Shadow huffed, as if he wanted to stay out just as much as she did. Still, he followed her lead and leapt into a trot as she patted his side.
They were still on their way back when the skies opened, lashing at them with rain, and by the time they had reached the stables, Chhaya, Devan, and their mounts were thoroughly soaked.
“Thank you for your company,” she whispered to her stallion, stroking his snout with wet hands. “Rish has promised to warm you up and give you a generous lunch.” She nodded to the stablehand, who took Shadow’s reins from her and led him further into the stables.
She turned to Devan, smiling apologetically at the state of the brown hair stuck to his forehead, cloak dripping water with every step. She was certain she didn’t look much better. After all, her curls were plastered to her own flushed cheeks and neck, and the burgundy velvet that Della had picked out for her that morning was thick, heavy and leaving a trail of shallow puddles behind her. But she was the reason Devan had been caught in the downpour.
“My apologies. Please do go back to the palace and take the afternoon to dry and rest. I would not want you to become ill because of me.”
He smiled handsomely, showing off two perfect rows of straight, white teeth. “There is no need for apologies; if you had not requested my presence, I would have been on duty outside anyway. Though I do agree we should return to the palace and into dry clothes.”
Chhaya agreed. After another bath, she would need to speak with her papa.
Della, thank The Goddess, had the tub full and steaming by the time she arrived, and before the lunch hour was over, Chhaya was back in her papa’s office.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Chhaya,” his footman announced, as she entered the heated room for the second time that day. The fire was still burning, though dimmer now, and the thundering of rain against glass filled the space.
Removing his glasses, the King lifted his head in surprise. A discarded bowl of stew lay half-eaten next to three large piles of parchment.
She turned back to Yash. “Could you please have the kitchen send up two bowls of kichdi, curd, and a plate of fruits?”
“Certainly, Your Highness.” He bowed, closing the door behind her.
“I am glad to see you, beta,” her papa said, hastily gathering his papers into a messy pile and shoving them into one of the drawers. How odd.
Chhaya sat across from him, twiddling with her bracelet. “I have been thinking, Papa, about what we discussed this morning.”
His eyebrows twitched upwards, and he leaned forward on eager elbows. “You have?” There was a lift to his voice that hadn’t existed this morning.
“I have, and I still disagree with you and the court. I refuse to allow you all to control me. I will not marry.”
His lips curved downwards as he leaned back in his chair. “I see. And there is nothing I can say or do that will encourage you to reconsider?”
“No. I told you that I do not wish to marry. And I hope, as my father, that you will respect my decision and accept that my happiness is more important than the will of the court.”
Shame filled his eyes then, flashing like lightning in a storm. “Chai, of course I want you to be happy. I want nothing more than your happiness. I just want to help.”
She tipped her chin upwards. “Then perhaps you will listen to what I have to say. I am willing to host any bachelors from across the Three Kingdoms who wish to be here, for up to one month. During this time, I will spend time with them, and we will host events for all of our people to attend and enjoy. I will entertain them, I will speak with them, and I will give this entire process my serious participation and consideration.”
A knock on the door interrupted them, and she sighed. This was, perhaps, the worst timing.
“Come in,” her papa called, and only a few minutes later, Yash had arranged the desk like a dining table and served their food before closing the door behind him.
Unsure if it was due to nerves, being out in the cold, or not having eaten very much at breakfast, Chhaya’s stomach rumbled once more. She topped the lentils and rice dish with a generous amount of fresh yoghurt. It was warm, creamy, and thawed her chilled bones from the inside.
“I am confused,” his voice broke through her attention. “You are happy to invite marriage candidates, but you are not willing to marry?”
She cleared her throat, sitting straighter. “Precisely. I am willing to take this seriously for the sake of our people, and so that the court will stop pestering you about it, but at the end of the month, if I decide I do not want to marry any of the men I have met, I will not.”
He tilted his head, rubbing his chin absently.
“You should know,” she continued, before he could argue with her, “that this is the only way I will agree to any of this. As you said yourself, you wish only for my happiness; so let me make the final decision. I will not have my hand forced.”
He huffed out a breath of laughter. “Very well. It sounds like a sensible compromise—I wouldn’t have allowed anybody to force you into an unwanted marriage anyway, Chai—I hope you know this.” Hurt tinged his words, but Chhaya could not bring herself to feel guilty. “We will proceed with the plans, then. I will invite all visitors to arrive the day after your birthday.”
“That sounds reasonable.” She spooned the last of the kichdi into her mouth and picked at a slice of pear.
But he wasn’t finished. “One more thing, beta. While we have so many strangers in the palace, I will be assigning a personal guard to protect you.”
Had she misheard him? “A personal guard? Do we not have enough guards and soldiers stationed around the palace? I have one with me at all times.” And it was true—while she had insisted Devan rest, in spite of his protests, another had come to take his place as her shadow.
He shook his head. “It’s not quite the same. I know this guard personally, and he is incredibly powerful. His magic is strong, and he will be assigned to you at all times during the day and will be watching all of the guests. He is trained to spot threats, and he is very good at it.”
Chhaya rolled her eyes. “You do realise I would not need so much protection if you had allowed me to learn to use magic for myself?”
“We have been over this countless times, Chai. Magic is dangerous, and it is unpredictable. Not to mention that you would require—”
“—Years of dedicated training to use it effectively,” she interrupted. “Yes, you have told me many times before.”
“We are in agreement, then?” he challenged, one eyebrow high above his twinkling eyes.
It wasn’t as though Chhaya was especially against having a personal guard, but it was entirely unnecessary. And having someone in her personal space all the time was bound to get frustrating. But her papa was right, this event did come with an element of risk. “We are in agreement, as long as you also agree to increase your own security.” His chuckle was soft and warm, and it filled her with love for him. “If you insist.”
She nodded, satisfied, and picked another slice of pear as she hopped to her feet. “Oh.” She had almost forgotten. “Two more things. One, I wish to host a ball once a week. Everybody in Agara will be invited, including the children from the orphanage. Two, while our guests are with us, I would very much like for Khiona Kingdom to host a night circus again. I loved it very much last time.”
His eyes softened, a fond smile gracing his lips at her commanding tone. “You do so remind me of your mother, you know. It is a deal, daughter.”
Relief flooded through her, as sweet as the first drops of water after a long sleep by the fire. She hadn’t truly realised how nervous she had been. “Thank you, Papa.” The smile that touched her eyes was genuine. “And I promise to give all of the candidates a fair chance, if that is what the court requires.”
Another knock cut through the rumble of thunder outside. “Come in,” the king called.
Yash entered again, with a letter this time. “Your Majesty, this arrived under express. The soldier delivering it was ordered to get it to you as soon as physically possible.”
The King accepted the paper, breaking through the wax seal. “Is the soldier being taken care of?”
Yash did not answer the question. “She travelled for six days and six nights, stopping only to change her horse. I have arranged a hot meal and a room for her to rest.” He paused, then, glancing at the princess, before continuing. “The Healers will be examining her before she is permitted to sleep. She seems to be quite badly injured.”
Six days without stopping? How in the Three Kingdoms had the soldier been able to carry out such a feat, and while hurt?
“Thank you, Yash,” her papa dismissed his footman, sitting back at his desk to read through the letter.
Chhaya’s thoughts flickered back to the drawer that he had hastily crammed with papers when she had entered the office earlier. “What does it say?” she asked, when he had finally finished reading. The tension in his face was evident, but it was the fear in his eyes that made her stomach clench.
“I will deal with it.”
“You insisted I be more involved in courtly duties.”
He sighed. The deep frown etched into his forehead was hardly a good sign. “And you have decided now is a good time to start listening to me?” She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. “Very well,” he conceded. “There has been another attack on the northern border.”
Another? “What sort of attack? And how many have there been, exactly?”
Whether his answer came from realisation that he would have to share it with her at some point, or from his simply accepting the fact that she would not leave without an answer, she did not care. “This is the third this month.”
Her heart clenched, sharp and tight in her chest as panic set in. The third attack this month, and this was the first she was hearing of it? She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her breathing to steady as she fought against the tremor in her hands, clenching them into hard fists. “Are the people living in the nearby towns and villages safe? Has anybody been hurt?”
Holding the letter out to her, he threaded his fingers through his hair, resting his head on his hand. “The first attack was small, so small it did not reach us. It created no cause for concern, but after the last attack, we had all the towns and villages in the forest of the northern border evacuated. The only occupants since have been the soldiers I sent there to gather information." The little remaining colour drained from his cheeks. "It seems they were not so lucky.”
She held her breath as her eyes roamed the sharp, jagged lines of crimson ink on parchment. A handful of survivors had escaped with deep gashes gouged into their skin, bleeding heavily. Those who had not survived had suffered tremendously, dying slowly, in agony, from blood loss, or from the sheer intensity of the pain. Not all of the soldiers had been accounted for, because some faces had been marked so heavily in angry slashes that they were unrecognisable. Mutilated bodies had been discovered with missing limbs, grey and drained of blood, and those who had escaped were unlikely to survive.
Bile rose in her throat, burning her stomach as she threw the letter back onto the wooden surface before her. Her vision grew hazy, but she forced her shaking legs to carry her to the fireplace, pressing her forehead against the cool stone behind the now-dead hearth, urging the nausea down.
Finally, when she was certain she wouldn’t empty her stomach across the hand-woven carpet, she turned back to face him. “You told me the Blood Magicians had been taken care of.” She couldn’t stop the accusatory tone lining her voice; how could he lie to her about this?
“I believed they had—we all did. I even had soldiers searching the forests on every border to ensure they were truly gone.” He waved a limp hand. “It appears we were wrong.”
Her eyes were hard and steely. “And you have kept this from me for how long?”
“These are the only three attacks I am aware of.”
Something was off in the tone of his voice and in the choice of his words. Again, her eyes darted to the drawer he had stuffed upon her entrance. “That you are aware of?”
His lips pursed, and she knew she had struck true. He moved, then, to the mahogany cabinet he kept by the door, and poured himself a generous measure of spiced whisky, eyes focused on the amber liquid and fixed firmly away from her. “For the past three months, we have been receiving reports of soldiers going missing.”
Her ears filled with a sizzling vibration as she clutched the back of the armchair. Three months. “Papa, the war ended three months ago. Are you telling me that soldiers have been going missing all this time?”
His lack of an answer was answer enough.
Anger burned red hot in her veins as Chhaya clenched her teeth. “And the court are too preoccupied with meddling in my life to set a course of action, to fix this?”
Again, he remained silent. Rage burned through her; how was he still allowing those creatures to terrorise their people?
“Send more soldiers,” she demanded through gritted teeth. “If there are none left on the northern border, we will need to send more.”
“It is not that simple, Chai—”
“How is it not simple, Papa? These are not ordinary people we are dealing with. They are monsters, and they must be taken care of.”
He finished the whisky with a heavy exhale. “I sent another troop last week. They should be arriving in a few days, and will hopefully be able to retrieve more information for us. But we cannot merely send every soldier we have without a second thought. If there are more Blood Magicians roaming the forests, we will need our army here to protect our people.” Rubbing his head with his fingers, he sat back down at his desk. “With any luck, this is all because of one rogue Blood Magician that our troops missed. They will be taken care of, and the soldiers will return to us shortly thereafter.”