The man who had stopped her wasn’t unkind about it.
He stepped forward from the small group of palace officials standing just inside the gate, a scroll tucked under his arm and a look on his face that was trying very hard to be apologetic while also being firm.
He was middle aged, thin, with the particular exhausted expression of someone who had been managing important people all day and was not finished yet.
”Your Highness.” He bowed slightly.
“Forgive the interruption. Just a small matter before you go in.”
Around her the other princesses were moving through the gates with their attendants, silk, quiet voices and the soft sound of many footsteps on stone.
Elyndra stood still and waited.
”Your handmaid,” the official said.
“We have no record of her arrival. Each of the selected princesses was to arrive accompanied. It is palace protocol.” He looked past her toward her carriage searching.
“Where is she?”
Elyndra looked at him.
Then she looked at the carriage.
Then back at him, with the expression of someone only just realizing something had gone wrong.
A little surprise, small wrinkles of concern, nothing more.
”She fell ill two days before we departed,” she said.
Her voice was soft and even.
“It was sudden. I made the decision to continue without her rather than delay my arrival. I did not think it would cause a problem.” A small pause.
“I apologize if it has.”
The official nodded slowly and looked down at his scroll.
”Your name, Your Highness?”
”Princess Elyndra Ivor of Velmora.”
He looked at the scroll.
Looked again.
His finger moved down the page once, then again, and the small wrinkles that appeared between his eyebrows told her everything before he said a word.
”Your Highness.” He cleared his throat.
“I’m afraid… that this is to say, your name does not appear to be…”
”I’m sorry?”
”On the official list.” He turned the scroll slightly, as though showing her might soften the blow.
“Your name is not here.”
A small commotion began to gather.
Two more officials drifted over.
A guard shifted his position.
The other princesses still passing through the gate glanced over with curiosity and pity.
Elyndra did not move.
Did not look at the scroll.
Did not look at the gathering officials.
She looked at the man in front of her with a calm, slightly puzzled expression, the look of someone who was quite sure there had simply been a mistake.
She waited one beat before she reached into the small case she was holding and pulled out an envelope.
It was sealed.
Palace wax.
The crest pressed cleanly into the red.
She held it out.
”My invitation,” she said simply.”I received it six weeks ago.”
The official took it carefully, as though it might do something.
He broke the seal, unfolded the letter inside and read it.
Then read it again.
His expression moved through several things; confusion, doubt, the particular discomfort of a man who has made an accusation he can no longer fully support.
The letter was perfect.
The paper, the ink, the wording, the seal.
Everything exactly right.
He looked up at her.
She looked back pleasantly.
”My Lord,” she said, with a slight bow of her head.
“I wouldn’t have travelled this far on anything less than a formal invitation. Surely it’s simply a mistake in the records.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
”Hold her here,” said another official, sharper than the first, pushing his way to the front.
“Until it’s confirmed. The others may proceed.”
Elyndra stepped to the side without argument and stood quietly while the remaining princesses were ushered through the gate one by one.
She watched them go with a composed expression and her hands folded in front of her and absolutely nothing on her face.
The officials murmured among themselves.
One of them counted names.
Eleven princesses inside the palace walls.
One standing at the gate.
One hadn’t arrived.
Then a figure appeared at the top of the entrance steps and began making her way down.
She was not young but she carried herself like age was simply something that happened to other people.
Her robes were deep wine red, her hair dark and pinned beautifully, her expression the careful neutral of someone who had learned long ago that showing too much meant giving too much away.
She descended the steps with the ease of someone who owned every stone she walked on.
Which, Elyndra supposed, she did.
The officials straightened immediately.
”Your Majesty.” Several bows at once.
Queen Desdemona looked at them.
Then at Elyndra.
Something crossed her face, quick then nothing.
Her eyes moved over Elyndra slowly, like she was trying to place something just out of reach.
A face.
A name.
Something she couldn’t quite get hold of.
The sharper official stepped forward and explained.
The list.
The name missing.
The invitation that could not be faulted but could not be verified.
The handmaid absent.
Elyndra bowed when the queen’s eyes returned to her.
”Your Majesty.”
”May I?” The queen held out her hand toward the invitation letter.
Elyndra passed it forward.
The queen read it.
Her expression didn’t change much but her eyes did that thing again, that slight careful movement, like she was looking for the seam in something seamless.
She handed the letter back.
”How many are inside?” she asked the official.
”Eleven, Your Majesty.”
”And the twelfth selection?”
”No word yet, Your Majesty.
We’ve sent more letters.”
The queen was quiet for a moment.
She looked at Elyndra.
”I apologize for the trouble, Princess Elyndra.” She turned to the officials.
“Add her name to the official list. Remove the name of whoever has yet to arrive and send word that their invitation is withdrawn.” She looked at the sharper official specifically.
“And make sure she has a handmaid before the evening meal.”
”Yes, Your Majesty.”
”Welcome to Azgareth,” the queen said to Elyndra, with a smile that was warm enough and did not reach her eyes, and then she turned and walked back up the steps.
Elyndra watched her go.
Then she followed.
—
The castle was extremely large.
High ceilings, long corridors, light coming through tall windows at angles that made everything look slightly more beautiful than it was.
The handmaid they assigned her was young, eager and talked without stopping, pointing out hallways and courtyards and which corridor led to where, Elyndra listened carefully without appearing to.
She noted the layout quietly as they walked.
Left corridor— longer, opens east.
Right — shorter, leads to the courtyard.
Stairs ahead, the angle of the upper windows…
”Princess Elyndra.”
The voice came from behind her.
Deep.
Even.
Not loud but deep.
She turned.
He was standing perhaps ten steps behind, still in the dark court clothes he had been wearing at the gate, hands loose at his sides.
He was looking at her with an expression that was careful.
Measured.
The crown prince.
”Your Highness.” She bowed.
Not too deep, not too shallow, exactly the way a foreign princess would offer a crown prince of a kingdom she was visiting for the first time.
He looked at her for a moment without speaking.
Then he dismissed her handmaid with a slight tilt of his head.
The girl bowed and disappeared.
”I’ll show you the rest,” he said.
It wasn’t quite an offer.
It wasn’t quite an order either.
It sat somewhere in between.
”That is very kind of Your Highness,” Elyndra said.
They walked.
The palace changed differently with him beside her.
Guards who had been standing in doorways stepped back, courtiers who had been drifting through corridors found reasons to be elsewhere.
She noted all of it without appearing to notice any of it and listened to him speak about the east wing and the library and the schedule for the following morning’s formal introduction.
He was not particularly warm about it.
Not cold either.
Just mindful.
Like someone who had learned to be attentive with words.
”You travelled far,” he said after a while.
”Several days by carriage,” she said.
“The roads were good for most of it.”
”Velmora.” He said the name like he was considering it.
“I’m not familiar with it.”
”It is small,” she said easily.
“Most people aren’t.”
”How small?”
”Small enough that news from Azgareth arrives late and everyone discusses it for weeks when it does.” She smiled.
“Your selections were discussed quite a lot.”
Something moved briefly in his expression.
Not quite amusement.
“I imagine.”
They turned down a corridor that opened onto a long covered hallway overlooking a courtyard garden below.
The afternoon light was lower now, coming in at a long golden ray across the stone floor.
He stopped walking.
She stopped too, one step later, and looked at him.
”You look familiar,” he said.
There was nothing particular in his voice when he said it.
But his eyes were on her the same way they were at the gate, careful attention that didn’t rush and didn’t give anything away.
She tilted her head slightly.
A small thoughtful expression settle on her face, genuinely trying to remember.
”Perhaps we’ve met before,” she said.
“At the balls… I’ve attended several over the years. Velmora is small but we travel.” A small pause.
“Though I must say I don’t recall meeting Your Highness specifically. I think I would have remembered.”
He held her gaze one moment longer than necessary.
Then he looked out over the garden.
”Perhaps,” he said.
They stood there for a moment in the long golden light, a crown prince who couldn’t name why a girl’s face felt like something he’d already seen and a princess who smiled pleasantly and said nothing more.
Below the hallway the garden was green and very still.
”The morning introductions starts at the ninth hour.
I’d advise not being late.” he said.
”I won’t be,” she said.
He looked at her once more and then walked away down the corridor without ceremony.
Elyndra watched him go.
She turned back to the garden below and stood there quietly for a moment, her hands folded in front of her, her expression pleasant, calm and giving absolutely nothing away.
Then she went to find her quarters.