Alve could never hate her brother. When Arlou had promised her dinner that same day, the girl was already in the Thorned Garden, her and her maid placing crockery and utensils. It was not often Alve found herself the overseer of anything, even with her own diet. But she had insisted and her brother wavered. Urda’s indignant eyeballing however was gnawing on her confidence.

Alve had wanted to serve her brother meat. Not that Arlou disliked such things, he loathed them to the core. The warm summer breeze caught the slow wrapping of the roseta and artila flowers winding around the gazebo. The sinking Torion made the white washed beams orange, and while Alve still fought with the thought of annoying her brother rather than delighting herself, their pale marbled table glistened with the promise of good company. And good news.

The forgotten princess had hoped. Yes, Alve did, as she abruptly clasped her hands together in front of the prepared seating and prayed. That her brother will tell her what the Summit had discussed since the day they have arrived. Her Masters of Civic and Lore did not satisfy her at any degree when they made off with listing who were the individuals in the meeting. She had their names memorized but it could not placate her deeper desires.

“I wish you’re praying that your brother will not burn your collection of servants’ trousers. You have the guts to rattle his hate for gore.” Urda walked towards the enclosing pavements of the garden, just at the border where thick shrubbery concealed any tryst to happen that evening. “And to choose this place above all else. You are playing with fire, little mouse.”

Still with her closed eyes and every concentration of her being focused on her faith, Alve replied, “It is a good place. He does not have to go far from where he is now. And I can meet him here.”

“Where here is in front of the Fedolarian Hall!” The maid whispered but she hissed nevertheless.

“But it's a perfect place,” Alve offered, shaking herself from her personal invocation. “And what is not a better place where Grover’s delicious cooking was not a few stone throws away.” The princess raised her eyes beyond the indoor tree canopy where the smell of sauteed spices  flew with the kitchen smoke. “And I for one would love to taste a dish prepared for the delegates,” she winked at her maid helplessly in her defense.

Urda sighed, “I would not wonder why the King suddenly decided you are not allowed to leave your room for a cycle of a season. Your safety has been our priority ever since...”

“...ever since that moment in my life that I have no memory of,” Alve finished.

The guardian and ward had had the debate for as long Alve could remember. Why was she not allowed to go outside? Why was she not allowed to see her cousins, nor her brother at her own request? Why was she hidden away from the entire realm? Is she even in the records of her family line? Of course she was, Alve silently declared to herself. Only that she was considered deceased.

But to mottle away to the same echoing excuse from either of the Gasulin guards, her Masters, maid, and family, was to defeat her own self determination. Alve bit her bottom lip. Her maid’s familiar absent response spurring her to ignore the possible consequences of the future.

It was the toll of the eventide bell that had lulled the princess and her maid from their blooming silence. Oria on the east was rising in the shade of the balcony palace garden. The Thorn Garden was built at the leveled portions of Skahstrah, a long arch of red and yellow flowers rising in elevation from stone to charon. The old and the new palace. It was also where the view of the Pillar-State School of Eth was closest–and the lowest to the sea of colleges down below. With the bell were the resonating cheers and laughs from the students escaping from their studies. A bitter yet humbling choir to Alve’s own liberty.

Knowing her time to leave, Urda bowed to Alve and left her periphery. But Alve knew the maid was still in the area, guarding with the hidden Gasoline guards. Plans to steer the also relieved delegates from the garden was part of the deal. Not long after, Arlou arrived and was able to greet his sister with a smile. His frown was found not later.

An hour into their meal, Alve ignored the barely touched spice brisket on her brother’s plate. The bowls of vegetables that Alve could barely name however were licked clean. After Urda’s ravaging, Alve had prepared salads and soups for her brother. It was a mystery to the princess how a prince could be satiated with just leaves and roots. She could not even withhold chewing for long such things. She’d rather choke.

“If you don’t slow down, you’ll choke. And have you ever considered your bowels tomorrow?” her brother scolded, wiping away sauce on his mouth as he read her mind.

“I did not know you were studying eth-hariot.” Alve slabbered but her eyes remained focused on her large soft cut.

“And a princess does not speak while she chews,” Arlou scoffed. While he did enjoy watching Alve struggle with her food, Arlou eventually grabbed a knife and made smaller slices for his sister to not die on.

Alve did not acknowledge the gesture but she knew it was important. Her brother, who did not like any violence, even the simplest of cutting skin, sunk his knife on beef to control his sister’s bottomless hunger.

It was dark out when mage lights bloomed from their pedestals, illuminating the diners in cyan. Eventually, Alve was satisfied with her cravings and was taking small sips from her orange juice. Her brother drank the expensive salavar flavored wine, retoro. Since her mouth was not filled, Alve finally started her inquisition.

“Tell me in detail, brother,” she started.

“Tell you what, little mouse?” the prince feigned ignorance with the flickering of eyelashes.

Undaunted, Alve leaned forward on the table, imperiously cupping the elbow that was holding her goblet. “You know what I mean!” she exasperated.

“What?” Arlou waved his free hand, “They won’t even let me enter the hall! Unless you’re one of the militia, you’ll even get an invite to sit with Father and Acolyte Imuto.”