Chapter 195

“But they are of marriageable age,” another protested. “Well past it, actually. If they will not serve in the traditional ways, then they should at least marry. They could bring happiness to some of our males—”

“I will not condone this discussion in my court again,” the king hissed, his patience visibly thinning. “I am the king, and I make these decisions. Until I devise a solution, no one is to bring up this conversation about the princesses ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

They straightened immediately, bowing deeply. “Yes, Your Highness,” voices rose in unison.

Aekeira released a slow breath. It would be brought up again, she knew. If not tomorrow, then in six months, yet again. Because everyone truly was talking about it.

Since returning to Navia, Aekeira had been reminded of the curse that plagued humans: scarcity of females. The way some eyed them, hungry for more women, constantly reminded her of how much they wanted her and Emeriel in brothels or breeding houses. And yet, she couldn’t believe how safe they had been since their return, thanks to King Orestus.

The same king who had once pawned them off to the highest bidder now stood as their biggest protector. Ironic, really. He had provided them with serious bodyguards, ensuring no harm came to them. Aekeira’s heart alternated between gratitude and suspicion.

There had to be a catch, a motive. Men like King Orestus did not change overnight. The problem was, she had no idea what his motive could be.

Her greatest worry upon their return had been Emeriel’s punishment for her years of deceit. Yet, two years later, King Orestus never once brought it up—not publicly, not privately. He treated them both as if the magnitude of Emeriel's transformation hadn't occurred.

The kingdom, however, was in tumult; the court and city were in uproar. And for two years, King Orestus turned a blind eye. Even his son, the crowned prince, had taken notice, developing a strong interest in Emeriel’s gender revelation. Not only had he confessed his feelings for her, but he had also relentlessly pursued her, using charm to mask an iron-willed determination that, at times, unsettled Aekeira.

Was this why King Orestus protected them so fiercely? Did he want Emeriel for his son? But that theory quickly fell apart when the king discovered his son’s courtship. He erupted in a fit of rage and forbade Prince Daviel from approaching either Emeriel or Aekeira. As though they were more precious than his favorite son.

Or, perhaps, they carried some deadly, contagious disease. Aekeira was more inclined to believe the latter. King Orestus’s protectiveness seemed less like doting care and more like the calculated caution of a man harboring secrets. But what could it be? What was driving him to shield them so fiercely?

Not that Daviel had taken his father’s command to heart. If anything, his pursuit had tripled, only now more discreetly. He slipped through shadows and around corners to find moments with Emeriel.

Her mind returned to the present. How long before the people defied and rebelled because ‘they were not fulfilling their roles in society’? It worried Aekeira more than she cared to admit.

Sliding the needle through the linen, Aekeira pulled carefully until the thread emerged. Embroidering had always been her peace, a calming ritual that helped steady her thoughts. After a long day tending the gardens, she needed this quiet moment to work on the needlework she’d been piecing together for weeks.

How was he? Is he doing alright? Her hand stilled. A familiar crash of longing threatened to overwhelm her. Deep breaths. She closed her eyes, fighting to steady herself.

“Are you alright, my princess?”

Aekeira blinked, clearing the blur of unshed tears. Otto stood before her, gazing at her with worry. “I’m fine,” Aekeira forced a smile.

Otto had cared for them as children, serving their mother. After their parents’ deaths, he was dismissed, leaving Aekeira and Emeriel to fend for themselves. King Orestus had never provided them with servants, guards, or much of anything. It was surprising, then, that upon their return, the king not only reinstated Otto but also assigned them bodyguards.

“Are you sure?” Otto pressed. “Yes,” Aekeira took a shuddering breath. “Yes, I’m fine. Worry not, Otto. It’s nothing.”

He still looked skeptical, his eyes searching hers. His concern was genuine, a kindness that made Aekeira ache for simpler times. Unlike King Orestus, whose motives were a mystery, Otto’s care was real. He had been there the night they were born, tending to their mother in a hidden underground room. Since their return, he had become their protector, always fretting over them, especially since they refused to speak of Urai.

“Really, I’m fine,” Aekeira reassured him.

“Your sister hasn’t been in her chamber all day,” Otto shifted uncomfortably. “The hunting party returned an hour ago, but she hasn’t been seen since.”

Case in point. Aekeira sighed, placing her needlework on the table before standing. She hadn’t seen Emeriel since her abrupt dismissal from court. “I’ll go find her.”

After searching everywhere else, Aekeira finally found Emeriel in Prince Daviel’s garden—her last resort. Emeriel usually avoided that place. Hands crossed, her sister stood motionless before the meadows, watching the stars. The night was beautiful, but Aekeira knew it was never truly safe.

Stepping beside Emeriel, Aekeira turned her eyes to the sky. “We are not being married off,” she said, breaking the silence. “Orestus put a stop to it. I’d say we’re safe for another six months, Em.”

“Don’t call me that,” Emeriel mumbled, her gaze fixed on the stars.

Aekeira ignored that. Her eyes followed her sister’s gaze, but her thoughts were elsewhere. “Do you think they are alright?”

Emeriel didn’t pretend not to understand. She remained silent.

“I can’t help it sometimes,” Aekeira admitted. “Has he gone feral? Is he doing better? Has the darkness consumed him? Does he think of me?”

The longing rose again, a forceful tide threatening to sweep her away. She fought to keep it from spilling into her words. “Sometimes, I fight for hours not to think of him.”

“Why are we talking about them?” Emeriel asked coolly. “We agreed not to.”

“Maybe it’s time we did.”

“I don’t think so,” her sister stated firmly, her face devoid of emotion. “It’s best not to.”

They never did, not anymore.