At the helm of riders was a warrior clad in silver and white. Her radiant dark skin was brilliantly offset by the white of her standards, her cloak and the banners behind her, igniting her into incandescence. Her copper-chestnut horse towered as she approached, and she slid from the saddle with the confidence of a lifelong rider.
Upon her head was a band of gold, a match to Prince Osian’s, resting naturally amidst the falls of her ink-black hair.
Prince Osian stepped forward, and they clasped one another’s shoulders, fierce and fond.
‘Little brother.’ The Heir Apparent of Khaim’s voice was rich and deep. ‘Gods, I actually missed you.’
‘You too, Aldreda.’
‘Yes,’ she hissed in relief. ‘Thank you for not calling me something awfully formal. I’d be very cross, you know.’
‘Naturally, Your Majesty.’
‘Oh, I’ll get you for that later.’ It was a believable threat. Crowned Princess Aldreda was of a height with her brother, a confident tilt to her sharp chin and the bow of her strong shoulders. But beyond physical prowess, innate noble bearing and a similar straightness to their noses, they looked little alike.
Different mothers, Meilyr reminded himself. Everyone knew that.
‘But first,’ the Heir Apparent jabbed, ‘I’ll get you for something else –whereis he? I had to hear about it on the road like some Denelands farmer! Utterly unacceptable.’
Her eyes landed on Meilyr as Prince Osian stepped aside to introduce him.
Meilyr bowed as low as he could.
‘Well,’ she exhaled. ‘He certainly is pretty, possibly too pretty for you, Osian, but you saw him first. Meilyr Cadogan, was it?’ Her accent was very much Khaimlic, though not as pronounced as Lord Leighton’s. ‘Please, do stand up.’
He straightened.
‘Pretty eyes, too. A consort from the populace, Osian? How very like you to think outside the fold.’ She clapped her brother firmly on the back and swept past. ‘Demelza!’ She and Demelza embraced warmly. ‘Now you I definitely missed, more than him.’
Demelza’s expression was utterly loving. ‘It is not a competition. Welcome to Eascild, Your—’
‘Do not,’ the Heir Apparent warned, with a grin. ‘I’m already sick of the pomp from the ride here, as you can probably tell from the fact I’m bells early. Wystan may be here by nightfall, if he does not change his mind and ride back home to Father. Osian, come along, I look forward to hearing all about this entire mess, from both of you. Come, everyone, enough of the show! I’m absolutely ravenous.’
Her white cloak brushed the steps of the keep as she ascended, Prince Osian behind. Demelza took Meilyr’s arm firmly and swept him seamlessly into the procession. Leaning subtly towards him, she said, ‘I have you, worry not.’
Meilyr was genuinely thankful for Demelza’s guidance. She saw himthrough a frenzied lunch with a lot of people greeting the HeirApparent, as she demolished two piled-high plates with both aggressionand, somehow, poise. As the highest-ranking member of court inattendance, she sat in the central seat atop the dais, Prince Osianbeside her, and Meilyr beside him.
He had assumed Demelza would sit at the Heir Apparent’s other side, but she sat beside Meilyr, offering quiet words of information and assurance. The reason for this confusing bit of table politics became apparent when the rest of the royal party arrived several bells later. The heralds trumpeted sharply, and everyone rose.
‘Majesty—’
‘Uncle!’ A child’s jubilant shout cut through the herald’s call as a small form tore – curly-haired, wobbling and reckless – through the central aisle of the hall.
To Meilyr’s surprise, Prince Osian strode around the table and stepped from the dais, catching the child as they careened into his arms, swinging them into the air in one fluid motion.
‘Always the favourite,’ the Heir Apparent said to a round of chuckles as the child in her brother’s arms laughed and chattered in glee.
The absolute devotion in the prince’s eyes as he returned with the child to his seat moved something unexpected in Meilyr’s chest.
‘Did you not miss your mama?’ Princess Aldreda asked as the two sat, Prince Osian adjusting the child onto his knee with practised ease.
‘Mama only went away for a bit,’ the child said reasonably, plucking a piece of carrot from the prince’s plate. ‘Uncle Osian went away for a long time.’
‘My daughter,’ the Heir Apparent told Meilyr, leaning around her child and her brother. ‘Edeva.’
Edeva’s big green eyes fixed Meilyr with the burning focus only children can summon. She had her mother’s dark hair and tanned skin but a small button nose, and those eyes – traits of Aldreda’s consort, perhaps?
Her heart-shaped face glowed. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she stated.