Saturday, February 4th

Dear Diary,

Last night was most beautiful. We met by the lake and shared a fire with her family, who welcomed me warmly and treated me as one of their own. Yet still, I could not rid myself of the uneasy sense that something was amiss, that some terrible misfortune lay ahead. Even so, a single embrace from her washed that fear away.

When the fire burned low, I returned to the castle, to my chamber, and at last to my bed, only then remembering that tomorrow I must face the suitors.

Mother insists that, as only a few years remain before I am to be wed, I must meet them now. She knows well my distaste for such matters. She knows I desire no celebration, and yet she governs my every waking hour. Tomorrow, when I rise, I shall be dressed in garments not of my choosing, fed food I do not desire, presented with gifts I never requested, and made to dance with men I never wished to meet.

Yet tomorrow night shall be mine.

I shall celebrate with Lineya. I shall dance with her, eat beside her, and spend long hours in the company of her and her family. That alone is the gift I ask of this day.

I bid you adieu. Tomorrow I shall write again, and share both my pain and my joy.