Layle

I push through the ornate double doors, desperate for fresh air and solitude. Another set of gardens of the Isolated Court unfold before me, a breathtaking tapestry of nature and artistry. The midday sun bathes the landscape in a warm golden glow, casting dappled shadows across manicured laws and intricate topiaries. The air is heavy with the heady scent of blooming roses and lavender, their perfume almost intoxicating.

Marble fountains gurgle softly, their waters sparkling in the sunlight. Winding paths lead through arbors draped with wisteria, their delicate purple blossoms swaying gently in the summer breeze. In the distance, I can make out the silhouettes of ancient olive trees, their gnarled branches providing welcome shade over a tranquil pond.

But even surrounded by such beauty, I can’t shake the fury coursing through my veins. How dare Tiernan insult my father? The sheer arrogance of it! As if I would ever consider marrying such an insufferable, pompous—

“Oh! Princess Layle—we didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”

The hesitant voice snaps me out of my internal tirade. I turn to see a group of young noblewomen hovering nervously at the edge of the garden path. Their discomfort is palpable, and I’m reminded of our less-than-friendly history. Their eyes flicker to the tiara nestled in my hair—a constant reminder of my status as the crowned princess.

Alin Sunshade, her slim figure accentuated by a pale blue gown, steps forward. Her blonde hair shimmers in the sunlight, her brown eyes wide with uncertainty. “We hope we’re not disturbing you, Your Highness. We can leave if you’d prefer to be alone.”

Behind her, Marren Dewfrost fidgets with the sleeve of her green dress, her curves softly outlined by the fabric. Her blue eyes dart nervously between me and the ground, a strand of chestnut hair escaping from her elaborate updo.

Sorel Skywing, the most striking of the trio with her fiery red hair and emerald eyes, seems to be fighting the urge to speak. Her gaze is sharp, curious, no doubt eager for any morsel of gossip she can glean from this encounter.

I consider dismissing them for a moment. Part of me wants nothing more than to be left to stew in my anger. But another part, the part that remembers my father’s ultimatum, knows I should make an effort to be more. . . approachable.

“No, please,” I say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “It’s a lovely day for a stroll, isn’t it?”

The girls exchange uncertain glances before Marren speaks up. “It is beautiful out here. Though. . . forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but you seem troubled. Is everything alright?”

I bristle at her observation, my walls immediately going up. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you for your concern.”

Sorel, unable to contain herself any longer, blurts, “We couldn’t help but notice you speaking with Lord Tiernan earlier. He looked quite. . . intense. Did he say something to upset you?”

My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms as Alin elbows Sorel in the side. “Lord Tiernan is none of your concern,” I snap, harsher than I intended. The girls flinch, and I immediately regret my outburst. “I apologize. It’s been a. . . trying day.”

An awkward silence falls over us, broken only by the gentle splash of the fountains and the distant buzz of insects. I struggle to find something to say, anything to ease the tension. I can see the questions burning in their eyes, their desire to understand this new, more diplomatic version of me. But they dare not push further, too aware of the gulf between our stations.

My irritation grows with each passing moment. The last thing I want is to engage in mindless, banal small talk with these noblewomen who have barely acknowledged my existence in the past. In my head, I’m cursing my father for forcing me into this charade of sociability.

For a moment, I consider changing my mind and dismissing them. But then a thought strikes me—spending time with these socially favorable ladies could help “normalize” me, increasing my chances of landing a husband and keeping my throne. The alternative—losing my birthright or being forced to take Tiernan Northgard’s hand—leaves a disgusting taste in my mouth.

Besides, it’ll be a win for all of us. I look more approachable and these ladies get the opportunity to attempt to get in good with me. Gaining proximity to the crown could be even more socially advantageous for their families than landing a husband.

Swallowing my pride, I force a smile as Alin, Marren, and Sorel circle around me like curious vultures.

“Your Highness,” Alin begins, her eyes wide with curiosity, “if you don’t mind us asking—what’s different this Season? You seem so. . . engaged.”

I bite back a sharp retort. Be friendly, Layle. “I’ve simply decided to be more. . . present this year.”

Marren tilts her head, blue eyes studying me intently. “But why now? You’ve always treated the Season as”—she winces—“as more of a vacation, haven’t you?”

“People change,” I say tersely, fighting to keep my voice even.

Sorel, never one for subtlety, jumps in. “Is it true you’re looking for a husband this year? There are rumors flying about the court.”

Alin and Marren glare at Sorel, but I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to snap at her. “And what business is that of yours?”

The redhead has the grace to look abashed, but her curiosity doesn’t wane. “It’s just. . . we’ve never seen you show interest in any of the suitors before. What changed?”

This girl is a brash one, I’ll give her that. She’s completely ignoring the death looks her friends are giving her and refuses to give me the deference I deserve as a princess. I take a deep breath, reminding myself why I’m enduring this interrogation. “I am the crowned princess of Lorcia. Perhaps I’ve realized the importance of securing alliances for the good of the kingdom.”

The girls exchange glances, clearly not entirely convinced by my diplomatic answers.

“Well,” Alin says, a hint of excitement in her voice. “If you are looking, we’d be happy to introduce you to some of the eligible bachelors. We know all the gossip about who is worth your time and who isn’t.”

I force a grateful smile, even as my stomach churns at the thought. “How. . . kind of you. I may take you up on that offer.”

Their eyes brighten with excitement, and I steel myself for the onslaught of questions, reminding myself that this is all part of the game I must play now. I’ve opened myself up to alliances—friendships—and part of that entails opening up to these women.

Sorel is the first to speak. “Your Highness, we’ve always wondered. . . what’s it like living in the royal palace? Is it as grand as they say?”

Alin glares at Sorel. “That’s what you ask?” she hisses.

Sorel shrugs, but I force a smile, trying to infuse some warmth in my voice. “It’s certainly. . . impressive. The architecture is quite stunning, but I do sometimes wonder what it would be like to live in a smaller home.”

As the conversation continues, I find myself sharing carefully curated tidbits about my life—my favorite foods, my hobbies, even a few amusing anecdotes from my childhood. The whole time, I’m acutely aware of the delicate balance I’m trying to maintain. I need to seem open and approachable but not too vulnerable. Interesting but not intimidating.

“What is your daily routine like, Your Highness? Is it all lessons and royal duties?” Alin asks, clasping her hands together.

I chuckle, the sound only slightly strained. “Not entirely. I do have my fair share of responsibilities, but I also make time for my own interests. I’m quite fond of horseback riding and engaging in political debates with my father’s advisers, actually.”

Sorel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Truly? That’s rather. . . unconventional for a princess, isn’t it?”

“Sorel,” Alin hisses again. I bite back a sharp retort, instead offering an enigmatic smile. “Perhaps. But it’s important that I keep my mind sharp if I am to rule the kingdom in my father’s stead some day.”

The girls exchange glances, clearly intrigued by this glimpse into my mind.

“Do you have many friends at court, Your Highness?” Marren asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “It must be wonderful to be surrounded by so many interesting people.”

I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “I have—acquaintances. But true friendship can be difficult when you’re in a position of power. You never know who to trust.”

Does that sound like I’m saying I wouldn’t trust them? That I’ll keep them at arm’s length?

The atmosphere grows a bit heavy at my words, and I scramble to lighten the mood. “But that’s why events like the Season are so important. It’s a chance to forge new connections, wouldn’t you agree?”

The girls nod enthusiastically, seemingly pleased by my apparent interest in socializing. As they chatter on, asking more questions and sharing their own experiences, I can feel a shift in the air. They’re seeing me as a person now, not just the aloof princess they’ve known in the past.

It’s exhausting, this constant performance. But as I see them warming up to me, hanging on my every word, I realize it might be working. I’m beginning to form alliances I feel will achieve my goal.

As we continue our conversation, a thought settles in my mind, heavy with the weight of my father’s ultimatum: I can’t mess up this Season, not when the throne that is rightfully mine is at stake.

The crown, my birthright, my future—it all hinges on my ability to play this game.

And I intend to win, no matter the cost.