Aliya-Ahsana, Princess of the Eagle Lands, was supposed to return from her horseback ride at a leisurely pace, confident that she had plenty of time before the formal dinner. Her proud posture would speak to her impeccable skill in a lady’s saddle, her riding outfit looking as fresh as if just put on, without a single stain or wrinkle. Her hair would be neatly braided, not a strand out of place during the ride, and her coquettish hat would remain perfectly positioned, not shifting even a fraction of an inch. She’d approach the stables unhurriedly, dismount with grace, and stride elegantly through the garden to the grand entrance of the palace...
That’s how a novel about the life of Princess Lia—about me—was supposed to begin.
Yeah, right! None of that had anything to do with me. Sure, I’d heard of taking things slow, but my restless nature couldn’t stand the mere mention of dawdling, which meant there was no trace of grace in my movements. At least not when I was left to my own devices, like during a ride. Naturally, the allotted time for my outing wasn’t enough, because instead of admiring the scenery, I preferred to spend it jumping obstacles and racing at breakneck speed. And, lost in the thrill, I completely forgot about the clock. So, I was tearing back like a maniac, forgetting all about a dignified posture and instead leaning as low as I could over my horse Agat’s neck. I rode in a man’s saddle, though, to be fair, I’d been trained to ride sidesaddle too. I just hated it with every fiber of my being! Instead of an elegant riding habit, I wore a loose-fitting white shirt, smeared with dust and splattered with strawberry juice from a patch of ripe berries I’d stumbled upon and couldn’t resist snacking on. My legs were clad in tailored men’s breeches, tucked into high boots. My hair, hastily tied into a messy bun before I set out, had come undone during the wild gallop, turning into a bird’s nest. And, as you might’ve guessed, there was no hat in sight.
Of course, there was no way I’d be using the grand entrance. Tossing the reins to the stablehand and learning I still had almost half an hour to spare, I bolted for the servants’ door, kicking off my boots and loosening the laces on my breeches and shirt as I went. My loyal maid and companion—really, my best friend—Zoriya was already waiting for me by a prepared bath. I burst in, stripped off my filthy clothes, and plunged into the water with a splash.
As Zoriya lathered my hair, she grumbled under her breath:
“How can you be so irresponsible? You’re almost twenty!”
I shrugged. So what? When it’s necessary, I know how to act the part. At this dinner, with some important guests in attendance, I’d play the well-mannered lady. But to be like that all the time? No way, not a chance!
“You’re a princess! And maybe even a future queen!” Zoriya pressed on.
“Heaven forbid!” I exclaimed. My fears weren’t unfounded, since I was currently my parents’ only child. I’m one of twins, but my sister didn’t survive the birth, and my mother suffered greatly delivering two babies. For a long time, doctors and healers forbade her from having more children. When they finally deemed her recovered enough to try again, she couldn’t carry any pregnancy to term. More restrictions, more attempts, a parade of esteemed physicians, more disappointments, and nearly giving up on the hope of having a son...
Then, a kitchen maid shared a story about her niece, who was healed at a sacred spring in the middle of an oasis, deep in the desert on one of the islands of the Windhawk Lands, which border our Eagle Lands. (Yes, all the nations in the Southern Wastes are named after birds of prey.) My parents decided to make the journey, and they returned with astonishing news: my mother was pregnant again! Now, for almost seven months, my (hopefully) little brother has been growing inside her. And the future king of the Eagle Lands! This is the longest she’s ever carried a child. Queen Fidania has felt wonderful the entire time, giving us real hope for a happy outcome.
This situation shaped my behavior. My father, who didn’t get a son when he wanted one, decided to teach me everything a boy—a future king—should know and be able to do. That way, when the time came to choose a prince consort, I wouldn’t be just a pale shadow at his side, nor would I let rightful power slip into hands outside our ruling family. Of course, the ideal scenario would be a shared responsibility in governing the realm, and I wholeheartedly longed for that outcome, though I didn’t rule out other possibilities. Still, no one was going to force me into the bonds of marriage before I turned twenty-five, though I did have to think about it and consider my options.
Pushing aside unnecessary thoughts, I turned to Zoriya, who was finishing up washing me:
“Do you know who’s visiting us?”
“I do,” she nodded, carefully drying my hair. Of course, I could manage my grooming on my own, but with her help, it was much faster and neater.
“And?”
“Ambassadors from the Forest Cat Realm.”
“They’ve come a long way!” I whistled. “What do they want?”
“That, they didn’t tell me,” Zoriya smirked. “But they asked me to make sure you show up for dinner.”
I nodded irritably and slipped into the delicate, pale green silk dress Zoriya held out for me. It felt cool against my skin and didn’t restrict my movements. What a blessing that in our lands, with this hot climate, it’s not customary to wear layers of petticoats or those torture devices called corsets! I’ve heard that in the Northern Woodlands, in places like the Forest Cat or Wolf Realms, a woman isn’t allowed to appear in society without a corset or in a loose-fitting dress—let alone one that hugs the hips like the one I was wearing now. Breeches? Don’t even mention them! Though even our society doesn’t approve of girls who favor men’s clothing, they’re more lenient toward rule-breakers like me.
While Zoriya worked on my jet-black hair, I handled my makeup: lining my large, dark eyes with kohl, brushing mascara onto my lashes, pinching my cheeks for a natural flush, and applying a bit of pepper paste to my lips to make them plump and juicy. What a relief that I’d come of age, so now I was allowed to use cosmetics. It’s the only feminine thing I’m actually interested in. Needlework, music, or anything like that? Not for me.
When we finished getting me ready, there were still five whole minutes until dinner started, so I slipped into velvet slippers a shade darker than my dress and strolled toward the dining hall at a leisurely pace. Ever-thoughtful Zoriya followed, staying half a step behind as etiquette demanded. In public, we never flaunted our friendship, maintaining the roles of princess and companion for everyone else. Zoriya wasn’t of noble birth; she ended up at the palace by chance. Her father took an arrow meant for mine during one of his military campaigns, earning King Alaskar’s gratitude and an invitation to the palace. There, Nazar proved himself a brilliant strategist and rose to become the head of the king’s personal guard. Meanwhile, I was an impulsive eight-year-old tomboy who suddenly found a strange, fearless girl in the palace who didn’t bow to me but instead stood her ground. Naturally, I wanted her by my side all the time. So, Zoriya received the same thorough education as I did, learned to wield a sword expertly, though while I mastered knife-throwing, she preferred the bow, becoming a crack shot. Over the years, my companion didn’t abandon these pursuits but grew more feminine, while deep down, I remained a wild child. Oddly enough, we balanced and complemented each other perfectly.
Escorting me to the dining hall, Zoriya didn’t enter, as the dinner was restricted to members of the royal family. I hate these formalities, but with foreign ambassadors in the castle, it’s better to keep quiet. As my father often says, “If there’s a chance to avoid conflict, there’s no need to pick a fight” (though Dad has picked plenty of fights himself).
“Her Highness, Princess Aliya-Ahsana!”
I entered the spacious hall, nodded politely in response to the deep bows from both ambassadors, and took my seat at the table. No sooner had I settled than the butler announced again:
“Their Majesties, King Alaskar and Queen Fidania!”
Well, well, Dad allowed Mom to attend the dinner! That’s unheard of, since he’s been guarding his pregnant wife like the apple of his eye, barely letting her leave her chambers or the adjacent garden.
When the doors opened, I, along with the ambassadors, had to rise and curtsy deeply before the royal couple. As I bowed, I caught the ambassadors’ glances: the older one frowned disapprovingly, while the younger one eyed my figure with undisguised interest. Hiding a smirk, I lifted my gaze to my parents. Now it made sense why Dad agreed to Mom’s presence: she was seated in a special chair with wheels, which the king himself was pushing. Yep, completely under his watch. I met the queen’s eyes, and she gave me a conspiratorial smile. Once again, I noticed how young my mother still was—she’s only thirty-six. At fifteen, she was given to my father as a concubine, an attempt to humiliate the daughter of a disgraced king from the Falcon Lands. Instead, King Alaskar elevated the young princess, making her his only wife. Later, he laid all royal honors at her feet, annexing her kingdom to his own. Now, the Falcon Lands are just a province of the Eagle Lands, but the people don’t complain—they’re happy to live under the rule of their true queen and her wise king. The only thing my father couldn’t protect her from was himself. Her still almost childlike body couldn’t handle the strain of a multiple pregnancy, so now Dad fusses over her endlessly, which amuses her to no end. It amuses me too, though I’m probably the most worried about a safe outcome. It was Mom’s difficult pregnancy and delivery that spared me from pressure to marry early—Dad’s been protective of my health as well, waiting until I’m fully grown.
The king wheeled the queen to her place at the table and nearly lifted her into a comfortable chair. Breaking protocol, he sat beside her, nodding to signal the start of the meal. I obediently reached for my utensils, discreetly observing the ambassadors. They’d lost all interest in my attire, now fixated on the new curiosity: Mom’s chair. Yes, it was our invention, and we had no intention of sharing it with the rest of the world. Our blacksmith, Zakariya, who lost both legs in battle, adapted a way to move independently and later began crafting similar chairs for injured soldiers. He’s come up with all sorts: ones with four small wheels, like Mom’s, that need to be pushed by an assistant; others with large wheels a person can turn themselves; even experimenting with three-wheeled designs. These chairs gave more freedom to people with mobility issues. We were used to seeing someone in a self-propelled chair, but the foreigners were clearly stunned and intrigued.
The meal passed in complete silence. To entertain myself, I studied the ambassadors through my lashes. The older one had a utterly unremarkable appearance, the only striking features being his bushy, mouse-gray mustache and equally thick hair. How does he not suffer in this heat? Oh, right, he’s from the North— it’s not hot up there. The younger ambassador was more interesting to me: dark gray eyes, like storm clouds, seemed to pierce right through you; copper-colored, close-cropped hair didn’t hide the sharp, slightly elongated features of his face; a straight nose and thin lips hinted at good breeding. Holy Spark, I’m sizing up a man like a horse at a fair. I barely stifled an inappropriate giggle, hiding behind my goblet. But I think Mom noticed my amusement.
When the utensils were set aside, King Alaskar rose from his seat and spoke:
“Honored gentlemen, I invite you to join me in my study, where we can discuss all your concerns. Aliya, please escort your mother to her chambers and then join us. This matter directly concerns you,” the king noted, then turned to the ambassadors for confirmation. “Am I correct in understanding the purpose of your visit?”
“Absolutely correct, Your Majesty,” the older one bowed respectfully.
I nodded humbly, eliciting a hidden smile from my mother, helped her back into the chair, and pushed it toward the exit. The men followed, so I could only speak with Mom once the corridors diverged, and we were out of sight. The queen immediately signaled me to stop and briskly stood up from the chair.
“Mom!”
“Hush, daughter! I’ll get as fat as a pig if I don’t ignore your father’s rules! I need to move, and he doesn’t get that. So, to avoid arguments, I use the chair when he’s around. But no one’s going to make me sit in it when the king isn’t nearby.”
I just shook my head at her determination. We continued at a leisurely pace, and I asked the question that was on my mind:
“Mom, you must know why these ambassadors are here, right?”
“For you!”
I nearly tripped at her reply:
“In what way?”
“Think about the royal family of the Forest Cat Realm!”
“Mom!” I groaned. My mother never missed a chance to refresh my knowledge on all sorts of topics.
“And their political structure too!”
Sighing, I began:
“King Froud the Fourth, ruling the realm for 28 years. Queen Lynette, his first and only wife. Two princes—the heir, Harald, and his younger brother Brinayn, a mage. They’re twins, both turning 30 soon.”
It’s worth noting that, by the divine blessing of the Holy Spark, royal families often had twins as their firstborns, with the younger always gifted with extraordinary magical abilities. They often served at court as the royal mage, a protector and support to the elder sibling (or sister, as would’ve been my case, but sadly, my magically gifted sister didn’t survive). Sometimes, an heir was born alone, occasionally gifted, but more often, magic manifested in the next generation or in a relative. In such cases, the previous king’s mage assisted in ruling, as their lifespans were far longer than those of ordinary mortals. Ultimately, no kingdom was left without a powerful mage, sometimes even two. We had one too—my father’s cousin, Azzam, a formidable and fearsome man, but endlessly loyal to the king. In every battle, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his sovereign. Lately, magically gifted children have been appearing more often among aristocrats and even common folk (Zoriya, for instance, had a small gift, enough for household charms and minor healing), which led to whispers of infidelity in royal families or the wandering affections of young princes. But such mages couldn’t compare to royal descendants. Though, if united, they could put up a decent fight, as happened once in the Falcon Lands, where a small group of gifted individuals overthrew the rightful ruler after his mage died, attempting to seize power. They made the mistake of dragging my father into their schemes.
After listening to my brief report, Mom prompted:
“Political structure.”
“The king rules the land, sharing power with the Council of Nine, but can abdicate if there’s a legitimate, married heir, preferably with children, and a strong mage.”
“Now do you understand the reason?”
“Froud wants to pass the throne to Harald? And for that, the prince needs to marry.”
Mom nodded but clarified:
“Officially, you, along with many other princesses, are invited to celebrate the princes’ thirtieth birthdays. Unofficially, there’ll be a selection of potential brides.”
“For both princes?”
“No, only Harald plans to marry. Something mysterious happened with Prince Brinayn, after which he withdrew from court life, making it much harder for our spies to gather information about him. And that’s all, my dear. Go to your father and be on your best behavior!”
I nodded, kissed the queen on the cheek, then bent down to press my face against her rounded belly, whispering:
“Hey, little brother! How’re you doing in there? Don’t let me down—don’t turn out to be a girl!”
Mom laughed and playfully swatted my backside, while my brother (Holy Spark, please let it be a brother!) gave a gentle kick from inside. All we knew was that the child would be magically gifted—Azzam had sensed it. Though all the previous unborn children (almost all girls) lacked the gift, this gave us another reason to hope everything would go smoothly this time, and the queen would deliver an heir (or at least a powerful mage to assist Azzam and support me).
I snorted, handed Mom over to her ladies-in-waiting, and headed to my father’s study. They were waiting for me, because as soon as the secretary announced my arrival, the king stood (and the ambassadors followed suit) and finally introduced the foreign guests to me:
“Aliya, I’d like to present the extraordinary and plenipotentiary ambassadors of the Forest Cat Realm, Lord Ingolv (the older one) and Duke Valgard, ruler of the Lynx Mountains.”
Wow, what a high-ranking figure came for me! The province of the Lynx Mountains was the wealthiest and one of the most influential in the Cat Realm, and its governor sat on the Council of Nine.
I curtsied and looked at the foreign diplomats questioningly. With the king’s silent permission, the older one spoke:
“Your Highness! His Majesty, the King of the Forest Cat Realm, extends an invitation to you for the grand celebration of his heir Harald’s thirtieth birthday, and requests your participation in the festive events to be held at the palace over the course of a month.”
“Honored gentlemen, when must we depart?”
“With your permission, tomorrow. We’ve been instructed to escort you to our sovereign’s palace no later than the last day of spring. For your safety, we won’t be using portals, so the journey will take at least a week.”
“Do I have the option to decline?”
“It is your choice, Your Highness. However, His Majesty strongly urges you to accept and has conveyed that he would be deeply displeased by a refusal.”
So, it looks like I’ll have to go...
My father, who had been silently frowning until now, joined the conversation:
“Honored gentlemen, this message has come as a complete surprise to my daughter. We will certainly discuss His Majesty Froud’s proposal with her and provide you with our response no later than this evening. For now, I won’t detain you any longer. I’m sure the servants have prepared your quarters, where you can rest.”
It was clear that neither Ingolv nor, especially, Valgard—who, judging by his age, hadn’t yet mastered the art of political intrigue—were pleased with the king’s response, but they didn’t dare argue. With a bow, the ambassadors left the study.
Once the door closed behind them, my father suggested:
“Let’s go to your mother’s chambers. We’ll discuss the situation together there.”
Mom was waiting for us, seated at a small table set for tea for three. The king leaned down, tenderly kissed his wife, gently caressed her belly, and only then took the chair beside her. The older I get, the more I admire the warm relationship my parents have maintained through so many years of marriage. And the stronger my desire grows to build something just as meaningful with my future husband, whoever he may be.
Once we were all settled at the table, the king started the conversation:
“So, Lia, I assume your mother has filled you in on the real reasons behind this invitation?”
I nodded glumly.
“And what do you think about it?”
“I don’t want to go to the Forest Cat Realm.”
“You don’t want to marry Harald? Or you just don’t want to attend the celebration?”
“Marriage? Definitely not. I pray every day for a little brother so I don’t end up as a queen—practically powerless, mind you—in the Cat Realm. And if Mom has a girl, such a union could threaten the independence of the Eagle Lands. I can’t let that happen!”
“Neither can I, my dear,” Father agreed. “Neither can I. But I’m not forcing you into marriage by any means. However, paying a courtesy visit wouldn’t hurt, would it? Besides, it’s a great opportunity to meet many influential people from our continent, which will be beneficial for you no matter what. And you’ll get to polish your manners—after all, it’s a foreign country, and you’ll need to keep up appearances constantly!”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of! A whole month of pretending to be a proper princess! I’ll grow mold from it! And what if I have to show off my ‘feminine skills’? I doubt knife-throwing counts as one!”
“Then you can showcase your masterful makeup skills,” the queen suggested with a laugh.
“I doubt they’d appreciate that in the patriarchal Cat Realm!”
“But don’t you want to make sure you’re not chosen?” Father teased, making me laugh. Honestly, I don’t even know what I want!
“Why did he even send for me, knowing the situation in our kingdom?”
“Because if he hadn’t sent an invitation, I’d be the one offended. And who knows what my offense might lead to.”
“Ugh, politicians!” Mom said with a smile.
Father began:
“‘If there’s a chance to avoid conflict…’”
“‘…there’s no need to pick a fight,’” I finished eagerly. Finally, I sighed, “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Excellent,” the king nodded. “And to sweeten the deal, I’ll suggest you pay attention to the future king’s brother, Brinayn.”
“Being the wife of a court mage is an even worse fate!” I exclaimed, thinking of the perpetually melancholic Nadiya, Azzam’s wife. “And he wouldn’t become a prince consort and weaken his own realm either. Plus, he’s not even looking for a wife, from what I’ve heard.”
Indeed, very few truly powerful mages started families—our Azzam was more of an exception to the rule. I’m not sure why, but it’s likely tied to the danger a mage poses to a spouse, both inherently and as the second most powerful figure in a kingdom, putting their loved ones at risk.
“I’m not suggesting him as a husband,” Dad clarified, “but as an interesting conversationalist to help pass the time without boredom.”
“How do you know?”
“About seven years ago, I had the chance to fight alongside both princes. They both proved themselves to be prudent, intelligent, and far from reckless. Brinayn, in particular, was remarkably composed, despite the wild magic in his blood.”
“He’s that powerful?” Mom asked, surprised.
“In a duel, our Azzam could only win due to experience. And even then, that was seven years ago. I suspect that now, after those mysterious events from three years back, Brinayn has gained more experience, based on reports from our informants. So, it’s hard for me to judge his strength now. But his sharp mind is legendary. If I were you, Lia, I’d take the chance to build a friendly connection. No matter how life turns out, such ties are never a waste.”
“Thanks, Dad, for the good advice. Please let the ambassadors know I’ve agreed. I’m going to start packing. I’ve got a lot to do before I leave.”
“Well, look at her!” King Alaskar exclaimed with mock indignation. “Giving orders to the king himself! Where have you seen such a thing? ‘Tell them this, do that!’”
I laughed and, wrapping my arms around his neck, corrected him:
“Not ordering! As a good, obedient girl, I said ‘please’!”