There was a silence in the courtroom. The strange Daivian messenger stood stiff and pale, waiting for either a response or the sharp end of a sword. The Nouminese queen sat behind a silk curtain. The young king sat on the throne, playing with a set of blocks. He built a tower out of them, crooked but somehow not toppling. It was not tall, but the queen offered him mumbled words of encouragement.

“You expect us to believe that this proposition is sincere?” the queen regent asked. Her voice was higher and younger than the messenger expected.

“The emperor desires this union between the two kingdoms.”

“A union how?” the queen asked. “The emperor has no daughters that I know of.”

“A marriage between his son and your princess.”

“The princess?”

The queen drew out a long breath. A pair of maids drew back the curtain separating her from the rest of the courtroom. The messenger knelt to the ground as she walked towards him. She was younger than he expected, possibly not older than thirty years.

“We agree to this proposition,” the queen said. “Please provide this man a room and some refreshments. You can make your journey back to the emperor once you are well rested.”

The guards surrounding the messenger stepped away and gave him some room. The queen watched the messenger leave. As soon as he did, she ordered the doors of the courtroom closed. It had been difficult fending off the troops. A few weeks more of war, or even a few days, and they would have lost. She did not care much for her kingdom, but she cared for its king. Her son was too young to survive the aftereffects of a lost war.

Daivia might think that their princess meant something to Noumin. It had been years since Vayu had been in the capital, a decade since she had lived in the castle. She was the king’s daughter, because some truths could not be changed, no matter how the queen wished she could change— or better, erase them. But Vayu was unimportant now, so far removed from power and the capital that many people had forgotten she even existed.

“Raval,” her father said. Queen Raval turned towards the old man. He was one of the reasons she’d retained her power after her husband’s death. Men were deterred only by the presence of another man, and Lord Dhravan was a strong man.

“We must summon her,” Raval said.

“She is not a princess now. We cannot bring her into this,” Lord Dhravan said.

“She is still a subject of this country. No one can go against the queen’s command.”

Lord Dhravan held his tongue. If not for his daughter’s obstinacy and greed, the young woman they were discussing would’ve been the queen. To a part of the kingdom, the young woman was still the true queen. In their eyes, his daughter was evil, his innocent grandson was a thief who had stolen Vayu’s birthright, and Dhravan himself the man behind the scenes bankrolling the whole operation. They were not entirely wrong.

“She let all of this go without argument, Raval,” the old man said. “She convinced her allies that she was leaving of her own free will and that she had no desire for the throne. You cannot reward her grace by throwing her to the wolves. Do you think those foreigners will treat her kindly? That she will be happy among strangers, in an unfamiliar land full of people who are now at war with us?”

“Do you think we have a choice, father?” Raval asked. “We cannot last for much longer in this war. We are holding them off for now, but what happens if this continues? What do you think will happen to your grandson?”

“We can think of other solutions,” Lord Dhravan said. “Daivia is most likely expecting a princess raised in the castle, raised to marry into royalty or nobility. We do not know how they will react to finding they instead received a girl raised in a convent.”

“My husband had no other children, and I am not willing to risk my kingdom by sending a fraud. The decision is made. I will send a unit of soldiers to fetch her from Hethyra.”

“What if they are not willing to let her leave?” Lord Dhravan said. “You will make one more enemy by sending her to Daivia. The princess has made an oath to become a priestess, and that is not an oath that the convent will like to be broken.”

“They are not more powerful than the crown. They are just some priests at the far reaches of the country. They might not want to give her up, but they do not have a choice. None of us do.”

Raval started to leave, but paused. “But you are right. There is no need to make another enemy. Offer them payment in exchange for the princess. I know it is difficult surviving out there in the far reaches. Give them money, grain, and whatever else they might need. They’ll gladly hand her over when the price is paid.”