The sunlight touched Canelle’s eyelids. She scrunched her closed eyes further, then flipped over to face the other direction. That didn’t help, the light persisted. Relenting, she sat up.

In a couple of blinks, she took in her surroundings. There, on the floor of the sitting area, she retraced her thoughts and recalled the events of the day prior. Outside the window, the lighting was cool, that of a dawn and not of a setting sun. 

She shook her head and huffed at herself for falling asleep despite her intention. In doing so, she caught sight of Lior, who lay beside her, curled up with a pillow that she must have taken from one of the chairs in the room. 

Her face was hidden underneath strands of her hair, but her shoulders rose and fell in a rhythm Canelle knew well enough. She would have to leave. It was hard to admit that while she tried not to think too fondly of Lior, she had grown to long for this softness. 

This was a side of Lior that, until Dofev, Canelle surmised only to exist in her imagination. The last couple of days had implied that perhaps that version of Liorit Saëns did exist, somewhere, cloaked behind booze and bitterness. And she sought to uncover that part of her.

On her feet, she walked mindfully, waltzing in a way, away and into her room. Short of closing the door, she glanced back at Lior, and wished her a safe and sound slumber. 

First word 

She thought so highly of me. Put me on a pedestal I hadn’t yet earned. She gave me the courage to become, so I became. 

She was a doll, in every sense of the word. Society’s idea of what a young woman ought to be, that’s what Fati was. 

She was petite, with fair skin and jet black hair that fell to her waist. Her delicate features hinted at a mixed heritage, from which she inherited great bone structure. I never cared about aesthetics to the extent she did, but if she was happy, I was happy. 

She had a soft voice, light and harmonic. A tone like that would give anyone the impression that she could sing, but I knew that was untrue. Her attempts at singing were always charming and tone-deaf. She knew this too, and would reserve her song humming for when we were alone, the two of us.

“Oh how do you keep so clean when horse riding Liorit? I struggle to stay on the horse!”  She leaned over the short fence, glowing in the afternoon sun. It hurts to think about how much I adored her. 

“There was no horse riding. Valkom bailed because he is Valkom.” I climbed over the pristine wooden fence between us that ran along the edge of the wide green field. 

She beamed, as this meant I would spend the rest of the evening with her. “I ask you not to take offense when I tell you that you spoil him, Liorit.” 

Right, I used to own that name. 

“What am I supposed to do, Fati? Say no? You and I both know my father’s stance on all of this. I could commit a crime, and he would condone it as long as Valkom asked it of me.” 

I took off my helmet and handed it to a waiting stableman. She followed at my side, her gloved hands holding a foreign language book to her chest. 

She went through hobbies at the same rate Valkom went through women. Always eager to try something new, and never committing. Often betrayed by her own attention span. 

Regardless, I looked forward to hearing her talk about what held her attention that week. There was a glint in her eyes when she spoke that I found endearing. 

“True, this is on him,” she said. “He should stop fooling around and pick you as his bride already. You’re the prettiest girl at court. You’re smart, and talented, and you tolerate him.”

I drew the conversation away from myself. “I would argue that you’re the prettiest girl at court. You could easily be his bride as well.”

“Even if that were true, my family couldn’t afford that dowry.” Her frown tugged into a somber grin. ”I’m also dumb as a doorknob, and everyone knows that. They think I do it on purpose, to attract men, but the joke’s on them, I’m actually an idiot. Do you think if I were as smart as you, people might take me seriously?” 

Her voice made an inflection I recognized. She had been my friend for about as long as Valkom had. She made fun of herself so she wouldn’t hear it from others. 

Worst of all, she believed what she was saying, and try as I might, I could not convince her otherwise. But did I try.

 “You’re not an idiot, you get bored easily.” I motioned to the book she held. “What language are you learning this week?” 

“Dofec. I’ve been reading this for three days and all I’ve learned is ‘Basoti fami Durchette.’ Which I think means: `Where is the bathroom?’” 

I winced and corrected her. “Basoti fallo Durchette. Didn’t you spend last summer in Dofev?” That had been the summer before we came to court from Zapide, right after we turned 16. 

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, I hid in my suite our entire stay because my brother told me that I could catch turtle fever there. Which turned out to be a fabrication of his imagination.” 

She said it so offhandedly, I laughed. Not at her expense—more so at the memory.

 “Your brother is the worst.” 

“Men in general, don’t you think?” She turned on her heel and began a backwards stride. “My father set up a dinner with Alfonse of the Ians family, and he spent most of it mocking my voice. Whenever I spoke to him, he would repeat what I said in a super high, irritating tone. Then he would laugh it off as if it were a harmless joke.” I opened my mouth to comment, but she shot up her pointer finger to add, “And then! He had the audacity to ask me to call on him the next day!”

“You can do better than Alfonse Ions,” I noted. He hardly had a title. He had also thrown up on a noble’s wife during the previous Bacjovl celebration, so he was no ones favorite person. 

“True, but you know… I don’t know if I want to. I was telling my father that I don’t need a husband, I have you.” She smiled and spun back around, skipping down the path and repeating some verses from her book in Dofec. 

She was the only person I knew who spoke to me that way, and I didn’t know how much of what she said she meant in earnest.

Second word

I was floating in lukewarm water at the time. I made my peace with the situation because I knew there were worse ways to live life. 

“We could get married, you know? Be the real power couple everyone wants us to be.” 

Valkom, to my right, was spouting nonsense again. The grin on his face gave him away. I didn’t give him a reaction, and somehow that was more interesting than if I had. 

He continued, “I won’t marry you though, because of the respect I have for you.”

I closed my book—well actually it was Fati’s book, she’d left it behind. I didn’t recall opening it, but there I was reading about Dofec sentence structure, midday, in the courtyard. 

He sat down in the chair beside me, picked up the half of the sandwich I had not eaten, and helped himself to it. 

I had a stronger will then. 

“If that’s what you have to tell yourself, Valkom,” I said.

He finished my lunch and took a swig of my drink, disappointed when he realized it wasn’t alcoholic. “I’m not teasing this time,” his dopey smile said otherwise. “I know you, and I’m positive that it’s not what you want, Lior.”

“Liorit,” I corrected. 

“Believe it or not, when it comes to my friends, I’m quite astute. You don’t do anything because you want to do it. You do what others expect you to do. Your father would be ecstatic if I picked you for a wife. You wouldn’t though, and I think that you need to stop living for others. Come on, be a little selfish, I promise it’s fun.” He blinked, his eyes wide at me. 

He was used to my resisting and enjoyed that extra bit of work he had to put into getting me to bend. 

“Of course you would say that,” my lip twitched. I suppressed all signs of amusement.

Although there was reason to what he said. Unmistakably, my father had raised me to be Valkom’s wife. And although the same could be said about the rest of the girls at court who were around our age, my father’s approach had been different. 

He’d made it his life’s mission to guarantee that I would be the one. An accomplished, multifaceted young woman, reaching beyond expectations. I would do sports, I would hunt. I would learn these things on top of sewing and painting. I would do it all. The prince’s hobbies were my hobbies. 

And we both knew from a very young age what the roles we were meant to play. It had never been secret.

He crossed his arms over his chest, perfectly content with his analysis.  “Don’t deny you wouldn’t do it—marry me, that is. It’s exactly what you’ve been conditioned towards your whole life.” 

I denied this, “I wouldn’t.” 

I closed the book and put a hand on the cover. I was swearing an invisible oath to an invisible god. With Valkom I could be candid: “I know it’s what my father wants, and your father as well, but I can’t do that to Fati. She likes you, you know?” 

She hardly admitted it, but I knew, I’d known for a while. I supported her because I personally had nothing to gain by this marriage. Titles didn’t mean anything to me, and my family is well off. My father’s pursuit of the monarchy tied back to old feuds, the kind I wouldn’t entertain.

Valkom’s friendship has been, and always will be, what grounds me to this world. Incontestable. We are two riverboats on the same course. Two planets orbiting around the same sun. Parallels of each other.

I had little interest in marrying another version of myself.

Meanwhile, my comment only inflated his ego. He was not blind to the girls who fawned over him, and a part of me suspected that he thrived from it.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?” He huffed freely. “You have to know that there is zero chance of that happening, right? Her family has no money, they didn’t pay their land tax this year. The only reason she’s permitted at court is because she came with you. She’s also not as nice as she lets on. You see it too, don’t you? I won’t tell you who to be friends with, but at least be on your guard.” 

I avoided the question. “That’s harsh, her family’s financial status shouldn’t define her.”

What I said flipped an invisible switch. He dropped the act and his posture shifted, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. It reminded me of when we were kids, and the weight of our roles hadn’t completely set in.

“Harsh? Do you know why I have to be harsh?” He either winced or smiled, or both.  “Funny enough, it’s the same reason why I would marry you. Do you believe people have a true interest in who I am as a person? You’re different, I know, and I am grateful because without you, I’d have no point of reference for what is authentic. 

“Most people, from the second they learn who I am, think only of how they can use our relationship for their personal or political gain. People will never be genuine with me, and I’m not going to sit here and cry about it.  A bunch of people, long dead now, decided what our names were worth. Fati’s is not worth much. I’m sorry I can’t change that, and neither can you, my friend.”

I could tell from the way he spoke about it that he thought it was a stupid reality in its entirety. And I agreed to an extent. 

“I see your reasoning,” I said. “I don’t know if it rationalizes your behavior, however.” At the very least, not all of it. 

He laughed, as he often did, from his gut. 

“Oh, it sure doesn’t. That’s what I like about you, Lior—”

“Liorit.” 

He disregarded my correction again. 

“You’ve never been afraid of calling me out on my bullshit. Now, let’s go get a real drink.”