1 Chapter 1

A young girl appeared in one of the corridors of her mansion. Wearing her finest sapphire-blue dress matching her eyes and an intricate hairstyle, which her maid spent an hour to create, she descended from her room to welcome special guests. She was also ordered to three hours lasting beauty treatment including a milk bath, oil massage and hair dressing. Her skin still smelled of roses and glistened in the light.

She had never been treated as such, when it came to guests. On the way down she looked out of the window, curious who was coming, since all the procedures she had to undergo to be worthy greeting them. And then, with a rustle, a black coach led by two maroon horses appeared on the street in front of the house. The gate opened and the coach stopped in the courtyard.

And then she saw the golden coat of arms on one side of the coach. The arms of royalty.

She was shocked. She rubbed her eyes, not believing in what she saw and rather looked at it again, reassuring she saw it correctly. But she did and it kept her bemused. Her mother told her just yesterday that they would be expecting guests. But royalty? Something must have happened she didn't know of. Their arrival roused in her a feeling of ferment.

She had information her mother was somehow connected with the King, meeting with him periodically. Likely in the castle, but he never came here. And she never expected him to. And now he was to come in with his whole family.

When she saw a coachman opening the door on the coach, she rushed down to the hallway, taking stairs by two, to be standing there when royalty come in.

While standing there at the door with her mother, she wasn't only curious and excited, but also a little frightened. What was happening? She questioned herself.

But on the contrary, her mother seemed to be perfectly calm. Maybe for the reason she already met them. Even if she felt nervousness, she was good at hiding it.

So many things were so different among them. Their look, especially. Even during her whole life, she had not seen anybody whose look resembled hers – her eyes were of bright sapphire-blue; her hair deep black and long, reaching her buttock, and her skin of caramel tone. Mother told her she got her features from her father, whom she never knew, but she didn't get satisfying answers for anything about him. All those years she kept his identity a secret and she never learned why. She wanted to know him, to finally meet someone who looked like her, and most of all, she wanted to know the man, who gave her life. But she never got to know what happened to him. If he was even alive.

The door finally opened and three people entered the hallway – the King, the Queen and the Prince. The air felt suddenly thicker. As if their presence itself demanded full attention and roused wariness in their subordinates. She was never that close to the Royal Family. She saw them a few times at some ceremonies and festivals, but only from the distance. She never expected to meet them, or even have them at home.

Then she realised Princess Yvette wasn't here and wondered, why the rest of the Royal Family came, but not her. She will probably find out soon.

She looked at them carefully. At first, her eyes wandered to the rulers. She studied their features, attitude, posture and expensive clothes. They looked majestically in every fibre of their being.

Whether it was a gift from gods, in whom nobody believed, or a skill, which she developed to this state, no matter where it came from, when she saw something within a person, it was certainly true. For her was easy to discover even the most deeply hidden truth within a soul by a single look. And what she saw within her ruler was not brutality. People used to say that the King was wicked. Nevertheless, she stopped believing it, when she looked at him. She could not see such cruelty within this man. Even though he heavily taxed his people, there was a sort of love for them and the kingdom. She hoped she would once understand it.

Her power was a mighty weapon. But she never used it with a bad intention, only to satiate her curiosity. However, nobody knew about this power of hers. She could not be sure what would happen if they discovered it, neither she wanted to find it out.

When her eyes rested on their son, air caught in her lungs.

He was simply beautiful and masculine. He had tall, strong, muscular physique and board shoulders. His face skirted by shoulder-length brown hair was the perfect combination of sharp and soft features – well defined nose, sharp jaw, thick brows and brown eyes bored into her.

The whole time she studied them, she was aware they also studied her. None of the gazes mattered, but the Prince's. She felt his eyes on every part of her body. Everywhere he looked, her skin heated up.

As the girl and her mother bowed to them deeply, she took several deep, soothing inhales, hoping it would cool down her burning cheeks. Not seeing him certainly helped.

When they stood up, his eyes met hers. They were like a strong swirl occluding her whole, and their magnetic force was not letting her take her eyes off his. She meditated if he was observing the unique colour of her eyes.

As her mother greeted them in her sweet, gentle voice, this intoxication passed off.

None of them responded, as if those words meant nothing after all the respect their subjects were forced to demonstrate. The men just nodded their heads in a way that it was almost unnoticeable and the Queen suggested a smile.

"We shall get to the point of our visit," she confessed and the girl agreed. She was eager to learn why they came. "Issia," the Queen addressed her, her voice was soft, "we need to speak to your mother. Prince Kydean will explain to you everything you need to know about this situation."

The matter really seemed serious. And Issia suddenly felt ashamed of how she let Prince Kydean affect her just by his good look. She hadn't doubted everyone had seen her blushing. It was too late to take it back. She wasn't even sure if she would have been able not to.

Issia looked at him, into his handsome face, his cold brown eyes, and got the answer. Go.

Therefore, she bowed to his parents again and started for the drawing room. Prince Kydean's strides were loud and heavy against the floor as he fell into step behind her. Confident. Unflinching. Dominant. Warrior-like. That was who he actually was. Only a sword was missing to complete that look of him.

As they entered the drawing room, they took their seats at two sofas facing each other and observed the other one for a while. Until his look on her seemed to be too heavy. Suffocating.

"What–"

He cut her off by a single look. Prince Kydean raised his eyes to her face. He bent forward a little, joined his hands in his lap and took a deep breath. Like preparing to announce something vital, she thought. And staring right into her eyes, he said:

"I don't like to waste my time by saying what's not essential. The reason why I came here today is that I'm going to get married..."

It wasn't unbelievable at all. He was supposed to be some time ago. Though she did not understand how it was related to her.

"...to you."

The instant he finished the sentence, she froze. Her heart was hammering and her mind... Like every thought, she had, escaped from her mind and left it empty. Nonetheless, she was able to utter, "You can't be serious."

He gazed at her hardly and arched his brows. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

She hated to admit that he wasn't. How was it possible? She didn't understand anything.

He was twenty-one, of age, when he was supposed to be long ago crowned and married. She wished he was, like everybody else in Mawyr, for the kingdom's good. With his heart of a soldier, he would certainly be the ruler, whom the kingdom needed. Someone caring for his people and ruling righteously. Someone, who would gain his people's loyalty, the sort of ruler, who wasn't in Mawyr for years. But whomever she imagined to be standing by his side, it was certainly not her. Although she had felt some physical attraction building towards him, there was none left. This man was colder than a weather on a chilly winter night.

"Nobody asked for my opinion," she tried to avoid the shaking of her voice.

She knew she was engaged years ago, but she had no idea to whom. As everything related to her past or future, her mother concealed from her well. She felt deceived. By her mother. This pain wouldn't go off easily.

"I'm not even royal. Give me one good reason why I should become..." it was hard to say it, "your wife." The word felt so strange and foreign on her tongue. She hadn't imagined her speaking of herself as of someone's wife for yet a long time. Marriage with anyone wasn't on her mind yet, especially with the heir of the throne at all.

"My father came out with this idea, he is the one you should be asking this question. And however you are against it, I don't think that he will allow you to withdraw from this arrangement."

Ah, that was it.

Honestly, this consensus doesn't make sense in the eyes of mine. How could something so essential, when it comes to a vast change in my life, be decided behind my back?

"I'm not my father. I don't know it."

She hadn't realised she spoke out loud.

"Neither do I. But you know much more than I and I would really appreciate, if you shared your knowledge with me."

"I really don't want to talk about politics, now."

Issia rolled her fingers into firsts in anger. He was the only one who could have given her an explanation, though he turned her off with such arrogance.

He was not only arrogant, but also rough and incapable of thoughtful conversation.

"Isn't all this caused for some political sake?"

He had to admit she was right. "I'm responsible for my actions and decisions only. Not my father's. So please, let us talk about it at home. With him and the council."

Issia agreed. That was a reasonable move.

"How much time is left until the wedding?"

"The sooner the better," he said.

The time was pressing and meanwhile she would need to find a way to get close to him, someone so unlike her. "What would either of us gain if the marriage is realized?"

"That is for you to find out."

Issia clenched her teeth. Raising rage was overwhelming her. Why couldn't he just tell her anything, though he was supposed to?

She said with pretended patience, "Let me put the question slightly differently. Is there anything I can gain after marrying you?"

"It depends on what you want to acquire. Popularity and respect? Certainly. What else might be on your mind?"

Issia chortled inside. Was this how he thought she would be? Seeking popularity? "I am not lacking those at all. There's nothing your court can offer me and I still don't have it. I'm rather asking what you can offer me. Would I ever achieve your respect? You yet behave towards me as if I were nothing more but a shoddy subordinate of yours. I am supposed to be your mate. Your equal. If you cannot accept me like that, I won't mind explaining to your parents my reasons to reject this consensus. I believed that you were better. I am really displeased."

Her gift was infallible. Perhaps just not concrete enough. She really saw him cold, but nice. And still he kept being mean.

Her words didn't seem to hurt him.

"Just so you know, neither I had a choice in this. But I know my duties. If my duty is to get married, I shall do so. You should do the same if you care about Mawyr at least a little."

Issia raised her eyebrows and batted her eyelashes in disbelief.

"Pardon me? How dare you use the sake of this kingdom as an excuse to your impotence to find a woman willing to marry you, since no one would be able to handle your tremendous arrogance."

The muscles on the Prince's stone face didn't move a bit. She wondered if he only chose not to expressed his emotions on his face, or he really was indifferent to insults. She doubted he didn't feel anything. Maybe he was aware of it and accepted it as a part of himself.

"If this is your first impression, it is also your last. Now excuse me, Your Highness," she stood up from her seat and made the first step towards the door, "I have an important appointment on my mind."

Abruptly she felt a hand grabbing her by a wrist and pulling her back to the couch. She fell on it in complete disgrace.

She noticed the corners of his lips twitching. "Now tell me which of us is more arrogant."

Issia straightened herself, trying to forget the way he saw her landing on the couch a while ago, and shook her head. "There's a difference between the trait of yours and mine. What I have is called 'dignity'. Once it is ruined, I shall do my best to retrieve it by whatever means."

He seemed to ignore it. "I didn't know that you wanted to discuss political issues two decades old right from the first time we met."

"Now that you know, go ahead."

"This is not my part to explain."

"Whose than?"

"I'm sure my father is the one."

How unexpected, she thought ironically. During his rule many issues happened to be, not only political ones.

"What's going to happen when this conversation is over?" she asked.

"I assume we'll go back home. Probably also with you."

She knew she would not escape what was lying before her. She tried to convince herself that she didn't mind what was happening now. She didn't aim to show any weakness to the prick before her. Therefore, with all her confidence she said, "I am ready." However, she certainly wasn't. He knew it too. Afterwards she regretted that she let it out of her lips.

They fell into empty silence, disturbed by the sound of opening the door. Issia thought that their parents went to check on them or join the conversation, but it was only a young, nervous servant, who widened her eyes the instant she realised he was in the room.

Kayden asked before she could say anything, "Could you do me a favour and call our parents?"

How peculiar there were no signs of his arrogance. Was he trying to keep up his good name for the outside world?

The girl nodded, bowed her head and quickly disappeared.

And when the door soon opened again, it was their parents now who walked in.

"My son acquainted you with the matter," the king addressed her, ensuring, "right?"

Issia only nodded. She had no desire to go into a talk with them.

Because the royal family decided to leave before noon, also with her, she had to do one more thing before leaving. She wasn't sure how long her parting took, but she made sure she said good-bye to everybody whom she owed a thank and last words to say, before she disappeared.

Her mother was the last one she talked to.

"Why is this happening?" she asked. She knew that since her mother talked to the royal family, she had to know it.

"The explanation is up to them. I swore not to say anything."

Nobody could go against the king. Neither her mother, no matter what bargains they made.

"How am I supposed to do this? I am not ready. I don't know what to do, now."

Her mother wiped the tears from Issia's face, which were freely falling down her cheeks.

Suddenly, all the former grudge she felt toward her as by a miracle disappeared when she saw her mother's loving face.

"You are ready; I know you are. Look, what you did these past years, what you fought against. You have the knowledge, the vision, love filling your heart... I know you can change the world if you wish. As long as you have hope." She took her daughter's hands into hers and squeezed them slightly. "Stay strong," she wished her. "You have the strongest heart I know."

However, she didn't feel strong enough to be alright. The recent occurrences hurt and made her uneasy. Yet the encouraging words did some good.

When the queen called her to go, she hugged her mom the last time and whispered, "I love you."

"Stay strong, my child," her mother wished once more before Issia left the house and with heaviness settled in her chest, she headed for that new place to call home.