Father rose from his seat and dusted his tunic. He motioned for Mother to follow. She hesitated and looked between her two children. The lines around her lips tightened and she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She came to her feet and laid a hand on Maeva’s shoulder before exiting the room. Silence followed their absence. The fire crackled and sizzled. Darri remained motionless in his seat, his gaze was trained on her. He shifted on his feet and drummed his fingers against the armrest. Click. Click. Click. The clunky ruby ring on his thumb clanked against the wood of the armrest. He was like a mirror copy of Maeva. The only difference between them was that freckles were scattered across Maeva’s entire body and face, while his skin was clear. That, and his air of bloodlust. It clung to him like a blood-red haze.

He placed his hands together on his lap. “I still can’t believe you’re being married off to a Jora bastard.” 

Maeva sniffed, “I know. And in one week! Isn’t that absurd?” 

“Absurd indeed.” When he had discovered a year ago that she had to marry a Jora prince, he’d been enraged, but he quickly resigned himself to the fact that they had no choice. So when she threw her tantrums, he had been the one to calm her down. But he didn’t show his sympathies to her; he’d only spat out the same nonsense she’d been hearing all along. It’s better for our country. 

“If I’m being quite honest, I’m rather scared.” 

“You? Scared?” he laughed, and the sound came out with a dark and ominous tone. He laughed like a villain, and yet it warmed her heart. “I’m more scared for the poor Jora folk who’ll have to deal with you. You’re a storm, sister.” 

“If they can’t handle me then that’s their fault.”

“Of course, because you’re not the problem. You never are.” 

“Of course.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, but it never became a smile. “How are you doing? Honestly?” 

Maeva picked at a thread on her sleeve and averted her gaze. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what to feel. She wanted nothing to do with this union. If she could, she’d run away and find her own path. She didn’t want to be a princess anymore. She wouldn’t have even minded marrying a farmer at this point. Anything would be better than an arranged marriage. “I hope he’s not ugly,” she said. “Other than that, I’m fine.” 

Darri clucked his tongue, “At least he’s young.” 

“Eighteen is a bit too young. He’s hardly a man.” 

“You’re only seventeen, though. You have no right to call him a boy, you spoiled brat.”

“Whatever,” she waved her hands dismissively. “And what about you? How are you feeling about all of this? I’m pretty sure you’d be shaking in your boots if you were in my position.” 

“I will be in your position one day. A king must marry whoever is the best fit for the throne.”

“It’s not the same, though.” 

“It will be.” 

“Hopefully.”

“Hopefully not.” 

Maeva couldn’t bring herself to smile, even though their banter warmed her heart. Who knew whether or not she’d be able to freely talk to her brother like this after she was married? “I hope he’s kind,” she murmured. She didn’t realize the words were out until it was too late. Then she clamped her mouth shut. 

Darri snorted, “Haven’t you heard of his reputation? Those Jora scum didn’t want to give you the crown prince, nor the perfect second prince. No, they just had to pair you with the defective brother.” The last part came out as a growl. Darri clenched his fingers together. “I would’ve been satisfied if it was the second brother, but why the third? He won’t be nice, sister. Resign yourself to that fate and don’t hope for anything different.”

She bunched the front of her nightgown and refused to meet his gaze. It rubbed her the wrong way that she was paired with him, rather than the other two brothers.

He was known as the “useless” prince. Not because he was truly useless, but because he chose not to delve into anything. Unlike the crown prince who was entrenched in politics, or the second prince who was skilled in combat and heavily involved in the military, the third prince did nothing. He spent his days drinking and lazing around. 

“I heard he’s psychotic,” Darri continued darkly. “Why didn’t Father demand that you marry the second prince instead?” 

She hid her glower with a sweet smile, “Well, who cares? Maybe it’ll be easier to deal with him since he does nothing all day.” 

“There’s no one in this world who does absolutely nothing,” Darri said as he pressed his lips together. “He probably spends his days doing indecent things. He’s a heavy drinker, isn’t he? He’s probably constantly out there gambling and sleeping with women. From what I’ve heard, the entire royal family of Jora is beautiful. With his status and supposed attractiveness, I doubt women can turn him down. A shady sleazebag like that—,” he exhaled through his nostrils. “I can’t believe I have to give you to that scum.” 

She cupped her knees with her hands and lowered her head. Her red curls curtained her face like a wall of flames. “Whether he’s a monster or a saint, it doesn’t change my situation. I have to get him on my side,” Maeva sighed deeply as she pushed her hair out of her face. “I just hope he’s stupid enough for me to manipulate. If I cry a little and he gives into my desires, it’ll be easier for everyone.” 

Darri snickered, “You never change.” 

“Naturally.”

“But still,” he pursed his lips together, “I just…I just wish that I was strong enough to protect you.” His gray eyes darkened and he slammed his fist on the cushion beside him. She flinched back as anger twisted his face. “If only we were a stronger nation. Then we wouldn’t have to resort to this.” 

She avoided his gaze and watched the flickering light of the torches instead. The fire twisted and twirled in hues of orange, yellow, and red. “Darri, since I’m going to marry him, I think it’d be best that I try to thoroughly control him, don’t you agree? That way, we won’t have to suffer from Iklav. I doubt his people will treat us fairly in the alliance. It is better to use them than to be used.” 

“We’re equals, but they’ll never look at it that way.” 

“One week,” Maeva murmured. We have one week and then we might not meet again.” 

“Unless you completely enchant him.” 

The corner of her mouth rose, “Yes, unless I do that.”