It was during her service in the Scriptor’s Hall that she first met Sir Daniel, when his company brought in an aged knight from the Westlands who had been injured during a hunt. Norwood was sixteen then, freshly knighted, with an easy laugh and striking good looks. He possessed deep brown eyes, a quick dimple, and reverently stood aside as the princess approached, as protocol dictated. This choice made it nearly impossible for Kat to glean any information about him despite her curiosity.

She noticed that the injured old knight, Sir Immanuel, had asked his retinue to bring him books on military strategy while he recovered, though he spent most of his time sleeping. Consequently, whenever Sir Daniel was attending to his mentor, he was the one lost in The Military Mind and The Art of Conquest by the old man’s bedside.

“You do look at that one a great deal,” Tessa, one of Kat’s friends from the hall, commented one day when she caught Kat observing the young knight.

“Oh, I just wanted to see what book he was reading,” Kat replied quickly, her cheeks warming.

“Hm. Handsome and a scholar. Don’t be so flustered, Kat. Even a princess is allowed to look,” Tessa said with a wink.

Katarina did not know what exactly happened next, but Sir Daniel looked up from his book and met her gaze directly, as if he had somehow overheard the entire exchange across the quiet room. She quickly donned her formal princess face and walked away as if nothing had happened, though her heart was beating in her ears.

She wanted to know more about him, just a little more, so she sought out the lineage of the House of Norwood within the castle lexicon. It was an ancient house in the Westlands, with a respectable holding, and regarded as a loyal, dependable vassal house of the region.

That was not an altogether impossible match, Kat mused. If she were one day to ascend the throne, she could not very well steal the first-born of one of the great houses, already destined for significant roles, could she? She had not given the matter proper weight, but perhaps a lesser-known house would be happy to see a spare son ascend to the role of Queen’s Consort.

Then, she caught herself. What was she thinking? She had never so much as exchanged a word with this knight, and he was, after all, a stranger to her beyond salutations. What if Celesta were to get wind of these idle thoughts? Or worse, what if Malin did?

Meanwhile, the old knight whom Sir Daniel had been attending was mending well and would soon be released from the Scriptor’s Hall. She would be rid of Sir Daniel at last—a prospect she firmly told herself she welcomed.

Once he left the hall, she would likely catch only fleeting glimpses of him around the castle, perhaps on the tourney grounds or if their paths crossed while he rode out for a hunt. She knew nothing of when he might leave the capital entirely, for he maintained a respectful silence whenever she was near, leaving her to observe his laughter and easy conversation only from a distance.

Eventually, the day arrived for the old knight to be released. Kat was in the Scriptor’s Hall, comforting a feverish child when the old man finally departed with his retinue, Sir Daniel among them.

After the retinue passed out into the courtyard without acknowledging the princess—a common courtesy, as it would cause a great hindrance if every ailing soul and traveler stopped to stand in ceremony for Kat while she worked—the young knight returned alone. He walked back through the stone hallway, bowed, and, looking her in the eyes, offered her a small box.

“I saw this in the market, and immediately thought it would suit Your Highness. It was a pleasure being around you here,” he said. Then he smiled, bowed once more, and departed. So startled was Kat by the suddenness of the encounter that she only regained command of her tongue after the young knight had vanished through the double doors.

She slipped a finger under the lid of the finely wrapped box in her hands. Resting inside was an emerald hairclip, the exact, striking shade of her eyes. She possessed many such adornments, most vastly grander, yet looking down at the glittering stones, she felt a sudden flutter in her stomach. Her eyes, and indeed her presence, had not gone entirely unnoticed by the knight. She quickly concealed the token inside her apothecary satchel.

That night, before sleep, having removed every other adornment, she set the hairclip in her hair, looked into the mirror, and smiled with a secret excitement. For the time being, she decided, she would not wear it in public—lest the young knight see her and think he had won her over in some way.

In the two years that followed, she caught glimpses of Sir Daniel now and again in the sparring grounds. She did not loathe catching sight of his dimple or his muscular arms. Shortly before her sixteenth birthday, he rode in a jousting competition where he performed impressively, and was very clearly favored by many of the ladies in the audience. She watched as lady after lady offered her favors to the young knight, and he chivalrously accepted a debutante’s handkerchief and tied it to his lance.

Katarina hoped she did not betray any signs of interest. He was an ordinary knight, not paying her any particular attention, and no serious designs could be formed on one who would not give her any significant military or strategic advantage; with Celesta watching nearby, she had to keep her expression carefully guarded.

A week after the tournament, Sir Daniel rode out from the capital with his company. He returned a little after Kat’s eighteenth birthday, after two years in the provinces around the realm. Upon his return, the Princess kept a disciplined distance from the knight, even as she caught glimpses of him in the yard and the court from time to time.