Arden’s fifteenth birthday had been like a silent signal to
other kingdoms with sons looking for brides. Two days before Maddix arrived on
a surprise visit, Prince Brandon of Ambray came on a long diplomatic mission.
He made it clear that he wasn’t there entirely to discuss trade agreements and
problems with brigands on the shared border with Westerland. He was a wonderful
dancer and didn’t even blink the first time he saw Arden riding astride, in
trousers, rather than side-saddle. Prince Tomas of Zashenbourg had choked and
stumbled when he saw her riding, but he had a lovely baritone voice and could
compose funny rhymes at a moment’s notice. Both princes made it clear they
extended their stays to inconvenience each other, and Maddix. Arden was
slightly ashamed to realize she liked how Maddix glared at the other two
princes, and she felt a funny sense of gleeful pride when he lost his elegant
manners and snarled at them.
He managed to meet up with her for a few moments of privacy in
the gardens at dusk. Just long enough for one startling stolen kiss before her
closest companion and lady’s maid, Caitlyn, caught up with them. That was all
they had, but it was enough to dream on for months afterward.
That sudden influx of suitors
slapped Arden hard with a realization she hadn’t fully considered, except as
something far off and slightly unreal: when she married, she would have to
leave Westerland. The more she thought about leaving the fields and forests,
the farms and villages she loved, the little ache deepened in her soul. How
could she be happy in her new home if she had abandoned her first duty, her
first love? The thought of Westerland having no one to guard the grasses and
wild flowers and encourage the grain to grow tall and sweet saddened her. As
the winter snows deepened, she confided her trepidation to Glynna. If only
there were some way she could leave part of herself in the land of her birth.
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