_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5" style="border:0px solid">Twelve Years Earlier

  Princess Lilith stood at the edge of the royal hunting party, her mare shifting restlessly beneath her. The autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves and damp earth, sharp and invigorating after weeks confined to the castle. Her father, King Edric, had finally relented to her persistent requests to join the hunt—though the tight-lipped expression he wore suggested his acquiescence came with reservations.

  "Remember your pce, daughter," he had warned that morning as the hunting party assembled in the courtyard. "This is not merely sport but politics. The Lords of the Northern Provinces expect to discuss border treaties between chasing game."

  Lilith understood perfectly. At twenty-two, she was well past the age most princesses were married off to cement alliances. Her father's patience with her refusals was wearing thin. This hunt was as much about parading her before potential suitors as it was about diplomatic retions.

  Lord Brennan of Highcrest spurred his stallion closer to her, his smile revealing too many teeth. "The forest air brings color to Your Highness's cheeks," he observed, his gaze lingering longer than propriety allowed. "It suits you."

  "Thank you, my lord," she replied with practiced courtesy, though inwardly she recoiled. Brennan was the third son of a wealthy duke, handsome enough by conventional standards, and utterly convinced of his own importance. He had been pursuing her with increasing boldness since arriving at court.

  A horn sounded from the front of the party, and King Edric raised his hand to signal the hunt's commencement. Hounds bayed excitedly, straining at their leashes as the master of the hunt released them into the forest. The party surged forward, hooves thundering across the leaf-strewn ground.

  Lilith welcomed the chance to put distance between herself and Brennan's attentions. She urged her mare forward, exhiration repcing diplomacy as they galloped through the trees. She had been riding since childhood and moved with the horse as a single entity, ducking low-hanging branches without conscious thought.

  The hunting party soon spread out across the forest, following different trails as the hounds scattered in pursuit of scent. Lilith found herself blissfully alone, having deliberately chosen a path few would follow. The sounds of the main hunt grew distant, repced by the rustling of leaves and occasional calls of forest birds.

  She slowed her mare to a walk, savoring this rare moment of freedom. No courtiers watching her every move, no suitors assessing her value like prized livestock, no father weighing her worth in political alliances.

  A sharp cry broke the forest's tranquility—human, male, and clearly in distress. Lilith reined her horse toward the sound, pushing through a dense thicket into a small clearing. There, colpsed at the base of a massive oak, y a man.

  He was perhaps a few years older than herself, dressed in the simple garb of a commoner: worn leather boots, homespun tunic, and a cloak patched in several pces. A gathering basket y overturned beside him, forest herbs and mushrooms scattered across the ground. His face was contorted in pain, hands clutching his right leg where a vicious-looking trap had snapped shut just above the ankle.

  "Hold still," Lilith commanded, dismounting quickly. "I'll help you."

  The man's head jerked up at her voice, and Lilith found herself momentarily frozen by the intensity of his gaze. His eyes were a striking blue-gray, like storm clouds gathering over the sea. His features were neither handsome nor pin but compelling—high cheekbones, strong jawline, and a certain thoughtfulness in his expression that suggested depth beyond his obvious circumstances.

  "My thanks, but I can manage," he replied, his voice strained but dignified. He returned his attention to the trap, fingers working at the mechanism with methodical precision despite his pain.

  Lilith knelt beside him, her riding skirts gathering forest debris. "That's a nobleman's trap," she observed. "The spring is designed to require significant strength to release."

  "I'm aware," he said, a hint of dry humor entering his voice despite his predicament. "I've nearly broken two fingers discovering that fact."

  Without waiting for permission, Lilith reached for the trap. "I'll hold this lever back. When I do, pull your leg free immediately."

  He studied her for a moment, assessing, then nodded. Lilith gripped the release mechanism, surprised by the resistance it offered even to her strong hands. She braced herself against a tree root and pulled with all her strength. The trap's jaws loosened fractionally.

  "Now!" she gasped.

  The man pulled his leg clear with remarkable speed given his injury. The moment his limb was free, Lilith released the mechanism, and the trap snapped shut with vicious force. Blood soaked through his leggings, and she could see the fabric was torn where metal teeth had pierced both cloth and flesh.

  "That will need tending," she said, reaching for her saddle bag where she kept a small medical kit. Her father had mocked her "peasant's precautions," but Lilith had always believed in practical preparation.

  "I have knowledge of herb-craft," the man said, already examining his own wound with clinical detachment. "If I can gather those materials again..." He gestured to the scattered contents of his basket.

  "Let me help you first," Lilith insisted, kneeling beside him. She removed a small fsk of spirits, clean linen, and a packet of dried herbs from her bag. "This will hurt."

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "More than the trap?"

  "Differently," she replied, pouring spirits over the wound.

  He hissed but didn't flinch, his only concession to pain being the whitening of knuckles as he gripped his own knee. Lilith worked quickly, cleaning the punctures, applying a poultice of herbs, and wrapping the injury with practiced efficiency.

  "You have skill," he observed, watching her hands.

  "My nurse taught me. She believed a princess should know how to tend wounds as well as dance at court."

  His eyes widened slightly at her casual revetion of her identity, but he recovered quickly. "A wise woman, your nurse."

  Lilith tied off the bandage. "She was." She sat back on her heels, studying him. "I'm Lilith."

  "I gathered that much," he said with a hint of amusement. "Unless there are other princesses wandering these woods alone."

  "And you are?"

  "Luca," he replied. "Herb-gatherer, schor of sorts, and apparently not very skilled at spotting noble traps."

  "What are you studying?" she asked, genuinely curious. There was something about this man—a quiet intelligence, an absence of the deference she usually inspired—that intrigued her.

  "Many things," he said, adjusting his position to test his bandaged leg. "Medicine, primarily. The properties of pnts. History, when I can access books. The stars." He gnced up at the patches of sky visible through the forest canopy. "The world is full of mysteries worth understanding."

  Lilith helped gather the scattered herbs back into his basket. "You speak like an educated man."

  "The monastery near my vilge has a library. The monks allow me access in exchange for supplying their infirmary with medicinal herbs." He accepted the basket with a nod of thanks. "Not all education happens in royal academies, Princess."

  There was no mockery in his tone, merely statement of fact. Lilith found herself smiling. "Clearly not." She gnced back toward the direction of the hunt, hearing faint horns in the distance. "Can you walk? I should return before they send search parties."

  Luca tested his weight on the injured leg, grimacing. "With difficulty, but yes. My cottage is not far."

  "Where?"

  "Near Wyvern's Creek, about two miles east."

  Lilith made a swift decision. "I'll help you there."

  "That's unnecessary. And unwise." His gaze was direct. "A princess accompanying a commoner to his home would raise questions you'd rather not answer."

  "I'm already helping a commoner in the forest, unaccompanied," she pointed out. "The damage to my reputation is done."

  "There's a difference between mercy and folly."

  "Then call me foolish," she said, helping him to his feet. "I've never cimed to be wise."

  Luca's weight against her shoulder was substantial but not overwhelming. He was tall, certainly taller than she was, but lean rather than bulky. Together they made slow progress through the forest, her mare following obediently behind.

  "You could ride," Lilith suggested after they'd walked in silence for several minutes.

  "And leave you to walk alone? I may be common-born, Princess, but I have some sense of propriety."

  She ughed. "Propriety would have you bowing and scraping, not debating with me."

  "Would you prefer that?" he asked, gncing sideways at her.

  "No," she admitted. "It's refreshing to speak with someone who sees me rather than my title."

  They continued in companionable silence for a time, the forest dense around them. Occasionally Luca would point out a pnt of particur medicinal value or a bird rarely seen in these woods. Lilith found herself asking questions about his knowledge, surprised by the depth and breadth of his learning.

  "How did you come to study at the monastery?" she asked as they crossed a small stream, stepping carefully on moss-covered stones.

  "Necessity," he replied. "My mother died of a fever when I was eight. The vilge healer couldn't save her. I decided then that knowledge—the right knowledge—might have made the difference." His expression grew distant. "The monks took pity on a determined child who wouldn't stop asking questions."

  "And your father?"

  "A woodsman. He died when a felled tree took an unexpected direction." Luca's voice held old grief, long accepted. "I was twelve then."

  "I'm sorry," Lilith said simply.

  "As was I. But sorrow doesn't fill empty stomachs or provide shelter." He nodded toward a break in the trees ahead. "My humble abode awaits."

  The cottage that emerged from the forest shadows was small but well-maintained. Constructed of stone and timber with a thatched roof, it stood in a clearing bordered by an herb garden id out with meticulous precision. Neat rows of pnts grew in geometric patterns Lilith didn't recognize.

  "You live here alone?" she asked as they approached.

  "With occasional visits from forest creatures who believe my garden belongs to them," he replied with a hint of humor. "A constant battle of wits between man and deer."

  Inside, the cottage was surprisingly orderly. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters, their fragrances blending into a pleasant earthy scent. Shelves lined one wall, filled with small cy pots, gss vials, and a surprising number of bound manuscripts. A table covered in notes and diagrams occupied the center of the single room, while a narrow bed stood in one corner.

  "Please, sit," Luca said, gesturing to the room's only chair as he lowered himself onto a wooden stool. "I should redress this properly."

  Lilith stood awkwardly in the doorway, suddenly aware of the impropriety of her situation. She was alone in a commoner's home, far from her guards and companions. Yet she felt no fear, only curiosity.

  "Let me help," she said, moving to a basin of water by the hearth. "It's difficult to tend your own wounds."

  Luca seemed about to refuse but then nodded. "As you wish, Princess."

  "Lilith," she corrected. "Here, I'm just Lilith."

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. "No one is 'just' anything, Princess. Least of all you."

  She knelt beside him, unwrapping her earlier field dressing to examine the wound properly. In the better light of the cottage, she could see the punctures were deep but clean. "You'll need to stay off this foot for several days."

  "An impractical prescription for a man who lives alone," he observed.

  "Then you'll need to be impractical," she replied firmly, reaching for a jar on a nearby shelf. "Is this yarrow salve?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "It is. You know your medicinals."

  "Some. Not as many as you, clearly." She applied the salve gently. "How will you manage?"

  "As I always have," he said simply. "Adaptation is the way of nature."

  Lilith finished rebandaging his leg, her movements efficient but gentle. As she worked, she became increasingly aware of his gaze on her—not disrespectful or presumptuous, but thoughtful, as if he were trying to reconcile the princess he must have heard about with the woman kneeling on his floor.

  "What are these diagrams?" she asked, nodding toward the papers on his table.

  "Star charts, mostly. Tracking the movement of celestial bodies." He shifted to reach for one particur parchment. "This one maps an unusual alignment occurring next month. According to ancient texts, it happens only once every century."

  Lilith leaned closer, genuinely interested. The diagram was meticulously drawn, the handwriting precise and elegant. "You believe the stars influence events on earth?"

  "I believe observation precedes understanding," he replied. "Whether there's influence or merely corretion remains to be seen."

  A distant horn sounded through the open door, reminding Lilith of her obligations. "They're searching for me," she said, rising reluctantly.

  "You should go," Luca agreed, struggling to stand.

  "Stay seated," she commanded. "Rest that leg."

  "At least allow me the dignity of seeing you off properly."

  She offered her arm, and he leaned on it as they moved to the doorway. Outside, Lilith's mare waited patiently, grazing on forest grasses.

  "Thank you for your assistance, Princess," Luca said formally, perhaps sensing they were returning to their respective worlds.

  Lilith hesitated, reluctant to leave. There was something about this man—his intelligence, his self-sufficiency, his ck of pretense—that drew her in a way no courtier ever had.

  "I would like to visit again," she said suddenly, surprising herself as much as him.

  His eyebrows rose. "That would be unwise."

  "So you've mentioned. Yet here we are." She mounted her horse with practiced ease. "I wish to learn more about your star charts."

  "Princess—"

  "Lilith," she corrected again.

  "Lilith," he conceded, her name spoken carefully, as if testing its weight. "The forest between castle and cottage contains many dangers besides traps."

  "I've ridden these woods since childhood."

  "And the dangers of gossip are far more perilous than any forest predator."

  She looked down at him, this curious man who spoke to her as an equal. "Are you always so careful?"

  "I've had to be," he replied simply.

  Another horn sounded, closer now. Lilith gathered her reins. "Three days from now, mid-afternoon. I'll bring books from the royal library that might interest you."

  Before he could protest further, she turned her horse and cantered back toward the main path. Only once did she look back. Luca stood in his doorway, leaning against the frame, watching her departure with an expression she couldn't quite decipher—concern, certainly, but perhaps also a flicker of something else. Interest? Anticipation?

  Whatever it was, Lilith found herself smiling as she rejoined the hunting party, accepting their relief and gentle scolding with uncharacteristic patience. Let them believe she had been caught up in the excitement of the chase. Let them think her merely impulsive.

  She had found something—someone—far more interesting than diplomatic hunts and political marriages. A quiet schor in the forest who treated her as a person rather than a prize. A man whose mind intrigued her more than all the courtly fttery she'd endured for years.

  Whether he approved or not, she would return to that cottage. Something had begun in that forest clearing, something Lilith intended to explore further—consequences be damned.

  True to her word, Lilith returned three days ter.

  She had pnned her escape carefully, informing her dies-in-waiting she would be spending the afternoon in the castle's private garden with explicit instructions not to be disturbed. Then, dressed in the simplest riding clothes she owned, she slipped through a servants' passage to the stables where a trusted groom had her mare saddled and waiting.

  The autumn day was crisp and clear, golden light filtering through trees that had begun to surrender their leaves to approaching winter. Lilith rode with purpose, a satchel of books from the royal library secured to her saddle. She had selected volumes on astronomy, natural philosophy, and medicinal practices from distant nds—topics she hoped would interest her new acquaintance.

  As the cottage came into view, she felt an unexpected flutter of nervousness. What if he wasn't there? What if he was but wished she hadn't come? What if their initial meeting had been merely the product of unusual circumstances rather than the beginning of... of what? She couldn't quite name what she was seeking.

  Smoke rose from the cottage chimney, and the door stood partially open. Lilith dismounted, securing her mare to a nearby post. She approached with more hesitation than she'd shown during their first encounter, suddenly aware of the presumptuous nature of her visit.

  "You came," Luca's voice preceded his appearance in the doorway. He stood straighter today, his injured leg clearly paining him less, though he still leaned on a wooden staff.

  "I said I would," Lilith replied, lifting her chin slightly.

  A smile touched his lips, transforming his serious features. "So you did." He stepped aside, gesturing her in. "Please, enter. Though I warn you, my hospitality is limited."

  The cottage interior had been tidied since her st visit. The table was clear of papers, two wooden cups and a pitcher set in its center. A small fire burned in the hearth, and the lone chair had been positioned more prominently, clearly intended for her use.

  "How is your leg?" she asked, setting her satchel on the table.

  "Healing well, thanks to your initial care." He moved with careful deliberation to the stool he'd occupied during her previous visit. "No infection set in."

  "I'm gd to hear it." Lilith remained standing, suddenly awkward now that she had arrived. The boldness that had driven her here seemed to evaporate in the simple reality of this man's home.

  Luca gestured to the chair. "Please, sit. I confess I'm curious what brings a princess back to a commoner's cottage."

  She sat, squaring her shoulders. "I brought books I thought might interest you." She opened her satchel, removing several bound volumes. "This one contains star charts from Eastern kingdoms, with observations dating back centuries."

  His eyes widened slightly as she pced the book on the table. It was bound in leather with silver csps, clearly valuable. "This is... generous," he said carefully. "Too generous, I think."

  "They do little good gathering dust in the library," Lilith replied. "Few at court have interest in such subjects."

  "And you?" he asked, his gaze direct. "What interests Princess Lilith beyond the expected pursuits of royalty?"

  The question caught her off guard. Court conversation consisted rgely of fttery and political maneuvering, rarely genuine curiosity about her thoughts.

  "I enjoy astronomy as well," she admitted. "The constancy of the stars, the patterns they follow regardless of human concerns... there's comfort in that perspective." She hesitated, then added, "I'm interested in governance beyond tradition. Ways to improve the kingdom that don't merely maintain what has always been."

  Luca nodded thoughtfully. "A progressive princess. That must make you popur with the conservative lords of the realm."

  A ugh escaped her. "Hardly. My father tolerates my 'peculiar notions' with the assumption I'll outgrow them once properly married."

  "And will you?" The question held no judgment, merely curiosity.

  "No," Lilith said firmly. "Though I may have to disguise them better." She pushed the book toward him. "Open it. There's a particur chart I thought would complement your work."

  Luca reached for the volume, his fingers tracing the ornate binding with reverence before carefully opening it. As he turned pages, Lilith found herself studying his hands—strong but dexterous, with calluses speaking of both physical bor and schorly pursuits. His complete absorption in the text revealed more about him than their conversation had.

  "This is remarkable," he murmured, examining a detailed star chart. "These observations predate anything I've had access to. The patterns they've identified here—" he traced a consteltion with his finger, "—correspond to my own observations, but they've tracked variations I hadn't yet detected."

  His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon they were deep in discussion about celestial movements and their possible significance. Lilith found herself sharing her own limited knowledge, asking questions that Luca answered without condescension. Time slipped away unnoticed as they moved from astronomy to natural philosophy, from medicine to history.

  "You're well-educated for—" Luca stopped abruptly.

  "For a woman?" Lilith challenged, eyebrow raised.

  "For royalty," he corrected with a hint of amusement. "In my limited experience, those born to privilege often ck curiosity about subjects with no immediate practical application."

  "Perhaps that's why we make poor rulers sometimes," she said thoughtfully. "Lacking curiosity about the world beyond our immediate concerns."

  "A surprisingly humble assessment from one born to command."

  Lilith poured water from the pitcher into the cups. "I've had good teachers who valued truth over fttery." She handed him a cup. "One in particur, Lady Mariam, treated me as a mind to be developed rather than a princess to be pampered."

  "She sounds remarkable."

  "She was. She died st winter." Lilith's voice softened. "The court considered her eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. She believed women should be educated the same as men, that common-born children with aptitude should have access to learning, that rule should be by merit rather than solely by birth."

  "Radical notions indeed," Luca said, though his tone held no mockery. "Yet here you are, heir to the throne, carrying her ideas forward."

  "When I can," Lilith admitted. "Though I fight constant battles against tradition." She hesitated, then added, "Including the matter of marriage."

  Luca's expression grew guarded. "Ah. The eternal question of royal alliances."

  "My father grows impatient with my refusals," she said, staring into her cup. "Lord Brennan of Highcrest is his current favorite. A diplomatic match that would secure the northern borders."

  "And not to your liking, I gather."

  Lilith looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "He sees me as a prize to be won, a vessel for heirs, and a stepping stone to power. He has no interest in my thoughts, my goals for the kingdom, or anything beyond my title and appearance."

  "Most noble marriages are built on less," Luca observed quietly.

  "Perhaps that expins the sorry state of most noble families," she replied with unexpected bitterness. "Locked in loveless unions, producing children raised by servants while they pursue separate lives of power and pleasure."

  Luca studied her with that same thoughtful gaze that had caught her attention in the forest. "You seek something different."

  It wasn't a question, but Lilith answered anyway. "Yes. Perhaps foolishly."

  "Not foolishly," he said. "Improbably, given your station, but not foolishly."

  The quality of light through the windows had changed, the afternoon sun sinking toward the horizon. Lilith realized with a start how long she had been there.

  "I should return before they send search parties," she said reluctantly, gathering her satchel.

  Luca nodded, rising with more ease than earlier. "Keep the books," she insisted when he tried to return them. "I can access them anytime. You'll make better use of them than the pace mice."

  At the door, she hesitated. Protocol dictated no farewell between princess and commoner beyond a formal acknowledgment. Yet nothing about this visit had followed protocol.

  "I would like to return," she said, the words emerging before she could reconsider. "If that would be acceptable."

  Luca regarded her thoughtfully. "Princess—"

  "Lilith," she corrected, now almost by habit.

  "Lilith," he conceded. "Whatever this is—friendship, curiosity, rebellion against expectation—you should consider the consequences carefully. I have little to lose. You have a kingdom at stake."

  "A kingdom I may someday rule," she replied. "Shouldn't I understand it beyond castle walls? Beyond courtly machinations and political alliances?"

  "There are safer ways to gain such understanding than visiting a solitary commoner in the forest."

  "Safer, perhaps. But less interesting." She mounted her horse, looking down at him. "One week from today? I could bring more books."

  He sighed, but she detected a hint of resignation mixed with something warmer. "If you insist on this folly, who am I to refuse a royal command?"

  "Not a command," she said. "An invitation."

  "Even more dangerous," he murmured, but inclined his head in acceptance. "One week, then."

  As Lilith rode back toward the castle, she pondered his warning. There were indeed consequences to these visits—to her reputation, to her political standing, potentially even to her father's pns for her future. Yet for the first time in years, perhaps in her entire life, she had spent hours in conversation that stimuted her mind and engaged her curiosity without hidden agendas or courtly pretense.

  Whatever risks these visits entailed, the alternative—returning to the stifling confines of court life without this newfound connection—seemed suddenly unbearable.

  One week. She would count the days.

  The pattern was established with surprising ease. Every week, weather permitting, Lilith would escape the castle for a few precious hours of conversation in Luca's cottage. She brought books, occasionally medicines or herbs rare enough that his foraging couldn't procure them, once even a proper telescope that had gathered dust in the castle observatory since her grandfather's time.

  Luca, for his part, gradually rexed his initial wariness. He shared his knowledge openly, challenged her thinking without deference to her rank, and revealed aspects of common life in the kingdom that royal reports and advisors had either sanitized or ignored entirely.

  As autumn deepened into winter, Lilith's visits required more eborate pnning. Heavier cloaks, stronger excuses for her absences, careful timing to avoid the shorter daylight hours. Still, she persisted, finding in these afternoons a freedom and intellectual companionship she'd never known in the castle.

  "The eastern vilges report poor harvests again," she mentioned during one visit, warming her hands at his fire while snow fell softly outside. "The third year running. My father's advisors bme bad luck and zy peasants."

  Luca, grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, shook his head. "The soil is depleted. Generations of growing the same crops have stripped it of nutrients."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Observation. The same happens in smaller gardens if one doesn't rotate pntings." He gestured to his own neat beds, now dormant under snow. "The answer is to grow different crops in cycles, to let fields lie fallow every few years, and to return animal waste to the soil rather than discarding it."

  Lilith leaned forward, interested. "The royal farms don't do this?"

  "Royal farms have enough nd to abandon depleted fields and clear new ones," he expined. "Vilge farmers have limited plots passed through generations. They can't simply move to fresh nd."

  She nodded thoughtfully. "I'll speak with the royal agriculturist about this. Perhaps we can distribute this knowledge before more harvests fail."

  This was the pattern of their discussions—Lilith bringing concerns of governance, Luca offering practical insights from beyond castle walls, and together developing approaches that neither would have conceived alone.

  As winter solstice approached, the castle bustled with preparations for the traditional celebration. Lilith found herself increasingly restless amid the festivities, her thoughts drifting to the quiet cottage in the forest where conversations held more meaning than all the court's eborate entertainments.

  "You seem distant, daughter," King Edric observed as they sat together in his private study, reviewing pns for the solstice feast. "Your body attends these meetings, but your mind wanders elsewhere."

  Lilith straightened in her chair. "Forgive me, Father. The season brings many responsibilities."

  The king studied her with the shrewd assessment that had maintained his rule through three decades of political challenges. "Indeed. Including the responsibility to finally settle the matter of your marriage."

  She kept her expression carefully neutral. "I wasn't aware that was an immediate concern."

  "It has been an immediate concern for years," he replied dryly. "Your continued evasion tries my patience. Lord Brennan has formally requested your hand. The alliance would secure our northern border against Verrath's growing ambitions."

  "Lord Brennan sees me as a trophy, not a partner," Lilith said, struggling to keep her tone respectful. "He has no interest in my thoughts on governance or—"

  "He needn't have," Edric interrupted. "His estates are well-managed, his military record distinguished. He will provide strong heirs and valuable alliance."

  "And my happiness?" The question slipped out before she could reconsider.

  Her father's expression softened marginally. "I indulged your mother's romantic notions and grew to love her in time. Perhaps you will find the same."

  "Or perhaps I'll find myself trapped in a union that stifles everything I value," she countered. "Father, I am your heir. Shouldn't my mind, my judgment, my capacity to rule be valued above my ability to secure a single border through marriage?"

  Edric sighed, looking suddenly older. "The world doesn't accommodate such idealism, Lilith. Queens need kings beside them to maintain the respect of neighboring realms. Your unusual ideas about governance already raise concerns among our nobles. Without a strong marriage alliance, your rule would face challenges from the beginning."

  "Then let me face those challenges with someone who strengthens my ability to rule, not someone who merely looks appropriate beside me at ceremonies."

  "You speak as though such a person exists," her father said wearily. "I've introduced you to every eligible nobleman within five kingdoms."

  Lilith hesitated, the image of Luca's thoughtful face fshing in her mind. "Perhaps nobility of character matters more than nobility of birth."

  The king's eyes narrowed. "What are you suggesting?"

  "Nothing specific," she said quickly. "Merely questioning our assumptions about suitable matches."

  Edric studied her for a long moment. "You've changed these past months. There's a certainty in your arguments that wasn't there before." He leaned forward. "Tell me, daughter, where do you go on those afternoons when you cim to be riding alone or reading in the garden?"

  Lilith felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter day. "I value my solitude. It helps me think clearly."

  "So I once believed." The king's voice was dangerously quiet. "Until reports reached me of the crown princess visiting a commoner's cottage in the forest with suspicious regurity."

  Lilith's heart pounded, but she kept her expression composed. "I've been consulting someone with knowledge of herbal medicine. For women's matters that I preferred to keep private."

  "Do not lie to me," Edric said sharply. "My spies are thorough, if not immediately swift. You've been engaged in regur, lengthy meetings with a man named Luca—a common-born hermit with no standing, no position, and no business entertaining the heir to the throne in his home."

  The cold fear in Lilith's chest transformed to anger. "You've had me followed? Spied upon during private moments?"

  "I am king before I am father," he replied without apology. "And you are princess before you are woman. Our lives are never truly private." He rose from his chair, imposing even in his advanced years. "These visits will cease immediately. You will accept Lord Brennan's proposal at the solstice feast. The matter is decided."

  Lilith stood as well, drawing herself to her full height. "The matter is not decided. I am of age, Father. I have the right to—"

  "You have the right to obey your king," he interrupted, voice hard as stone. "Whatever foolish infatuation has developed during these illicit meetings ends now. Should you defy me in this, I will have this commoner removed—permanently."

  The threat hung in the air between them. Lilith felt the blood drain from her face. "You wouldn't."

  "To protect the kingdom's future? Without hesitation." Edric's expression held no compromise. "I indulged your eccentricities because they seemed harmless. This is different. This threatens everything our family has built."

  "How?" Lilith demanded. "How does conversation with someone knowledgeable about subjects the court ignores threaten anything?"

  "Because I see it in your eyes, daughter. This is no longer about knowledge. Your heart is engaged."

  Lilith wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. When had it happened? When had their intellectual discussions transformed into something deeper? Perhaps when she'd first seen Luca working in his garden, sunlight catching his profile as he carefully tended pnts. Or during the afternoon storm when they'd been trapped in the cottage for hours, the conversation flowing from astronomy to philosophy to personal dreams. Or perhaps during their st meeting, when their hands had touched briefly over an ancient text, and she'd felt a jolt of awareness that had nothing to do with schorly interest.

  "My heart is my own," she said finally.

  "Not when you are heir to the throne," her father corrected. "Then it belongs to the kingdom first."

  He moved to the door, his decision clearly final in his mind. "You will attend the council meeting this afternoon and the banquet tonight. Tomorrow you will formally receive Lord Brennan's proposal. At the solstice feast, your betrothal will be announced." He paused, his voice softening slightly. "In time, you will thank me for this, Lilith. Some dreams must be sacrificed for duty."

  When the door closed behind him, Lilith remained standing, her mind racing. The fragile connection she'd built with Luca—the only retionship in her life based on genuine exchange rather than status or advantage—was to be severed. More than that, Luca himself was threatened if she didn't comply.

  She moved to the window, watching snowfkes swirl against leaden skies. Beyond the castle walls, beyond the city, the forest stretched white and silent. Somewhere within it, a quiet cottage stood where she had discovered conversations that challenged and engaged her, where she had glimpsed a different kind of future than the one id out since her birth.

  A future now threatened by her father's decree and Brennan's ambitions.

  Proper princesses accepted such dictates. They recognized the practical necessity of political marriages and found fulfillment in duty rather than personal desire. They maintained the order that had sustained kingdoms for generations.

  But Lilith had never aspired to be merely proper.

  As the snow fell heavier beyond the window, a pn began to form—reckless, perhaps, but preferable to passive acceptance of a future that would extinguish everything she valued about herself.

  She would attend the council meeting. She would smile at the banquet. She would give no indication of defiance or despair.

  And tomorrow, before dawn, she would make a decision that would change the course of not just her life, but her kingdom's future as well.

  Against all expectations, against all traditions, against all odds—Lilith would choose her own path.