Page 12 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

“Be angry with me if you will. But I cannot as your king – and will not as a man of conscience – allow him to destroy the Edgelands. You all know we cannot win against his army.”

“He’s a warmonger,” someone shouted. “He’ll kill us the moment the archers step down.”

“Bannock, you old fool,” my father said, not unkindly. “The wall is breached, and they vastly outnumber us. He could have moved into our city and burned it to the ground while we watched. He has allowed us to live. If we are to continue surviving, acceptance is our only option.” His eyes hardened. “And if he does not keep his word – if he does not bring the peace and prosperity he has promised – we will reap our own revenge.”

There were more shouts, and this time my father’s fist slammed the arm of his chair. “Enough,” he said, and obedience had silence falling again. “Go home, all of you. Check on your children, bring your loved ones back from the hills and be satisfied that you are alive yet to see them. Tonight, you can drink yourselves into Oblivion at my table. And we will see what our future holds.”

He stood silently now, waiting for the Great Hall to empty. My mother went to him, slipped her hand into his, and murmured something that made him nod and exhale.

I wasn’t sure what to do next. My nation had become part of someone else’s land. My father had trans formed from king to regent. I was no longer a princess, but… what?

“I want some air,” I said. Graene and I left the hall with its perennial haze of smoke. The villagers still milled about outside, and none of them looked happy.

Trevellyan pushed through them to me. “Your father—”

I held up a hand. “If you have something to say to him, then say it to him. Not me.”

“Your father should have sent you away from all this. Away and out of danger.”

“You think I’m a coward?”

He stepped closer. “You’re a princess who should be sheltered and protected.”

“I’m no longer a princess,” I reminded him, and found it didn’t feel so bad to say that. “And I have no need to be sheltered or protected by you.”

“You are confused by the loss of your title. He should pay for that alone.” He made a stiff bow, and strode past the crumbling wall.

“He cannot seriously think you’d agree to marry him,” Graene said.

“I think he doesn’t care whether I’d agree.” I sighed. “Let’s find some icewine.”

“Yes, please.”

I turned, found Darien near the open gate, discussing something with his soldiers. But his gaze was on me, and he inclined his head.

“Enemies in all corners?” Graene wondered.

I honestly didn’t know.

* * *

We sat atop one of the remaining sections of the wall watching the Golden King’s army assemble canvas tents for their stay in the Edgelands, a jar of icewine between us.

“At least I never have to call you ‘Your Highness’ again,” Graene said.

I snorted. “You never called me ‘Your Highness’ in the first place.”

“Oversight,” she said, taking a drink before handing me the jug. “Maybe your father will let you join the army now.”

“Doubtful,” I said. “I’m still his only daughter. Do you think everything will change?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there will be fewer reiver attacks. Maybe more trade with Intarha. Maybe no famine. Depends on whether he makes good on his promises. Seems earnest enough.”

“Easy to be earnest when he has an army.” I took a drink, squeezed my eyes shut. “By all the gods, Graene, this is awful.”

“Cheapest icewine I could find. Shitty, but it passes the time.”

“Because one drink knocks you on your arse.”