At some point, Kael desperately needed to excuse himself from the ballroom. He needed solitude, a moment's break from the crowd that, despite their congratulatory words, seemed more interested in the spectacle than in his happiness. As he exited the hall, he felt eyes boring into his back—Eva's, no doubt. The weight of her disdain was palpable. But he refused to turn, keeping his steps steady and measured until he reached the sanctuary of the palace gardens.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the crisp scent of jasmine and dew soothing him. The faint sound of a woman singing wafted through the air, carried by the evening breeze. Intrigued, Kael followed the voice, rounding a hedge to see Lady Isolde sitting at the edge of a marble fountain, lost in her song. Upon seeing him, Isolde quickly stopped, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Your Highness, forgive me, I didn't realize—" she started, but he raised a hand.
"Please, there's nothing to apologize for. Your voice is lovely. Don't let me interrupt."
"Thank you. But I wouldn't dream of serenading the prince. It'd be most unbecoming."
Kael chuckled, taking a seat beside her on the fountain's edge. "And yet my betrothed finds the act of even speaking to me repulsive, so perhaps some unintended serenading would be welcomed."
Isolde giggled nervously, her hands smoothing over her gown. "Sister has always been...spirited."
"A polite way to say she'd rather stab me than wed me."
"You know how these things are," Isolde sighed wistfully. "Political arrangements masquerading as romance. Surely, you had someone else in mind for such things."
"I don't get that luxury."
"Oh." Isolde frowned slightly. The arranged marriage with Prince Kael loomed over Eva's head like a dark cloud. Her heart felt heavy for her sister, but what could she do? This was their reality as noblewomen. She hesitated, unsure how to lighten Kael's mood without seeming insensitive. "I suppose it might be like an arranged friendship," she ventured cautiously. "Perhaps you'll find some common ground. Shared interests or—or a love of horses!"
Despite himself, Kael felt the corner of his mouth twitch up into a half-smile. "Horses? I don't believe I've seen Lady Callenwood take to the saddle."
"She can ride!" Isolde insisted fervently. "Once, she even climbed atop Father's fastest steed and—well..." Her enthusiasm dimmed as memories of the aftermath crept back in. Eva had been grounded for weeks after that stunt.
"A rebellious spirit, then," Kael mused aloud. His eyes drifted to the stars twinkling above, the same stars shining over him and his betrothed younger sister. "I have no desire to wed a woman who will resent me for stealing her freedoms," he admitted. "But she isn't the only one giving something up."
"What do you mean, Your Highness?" Isolde asked quietly.
Kael shifted his gaze from the heavens back to Isolde. In her earnest innocence, he found solace—a momentary break from the whirlwind of expectations and intrigue. "I'd like to refrain from discussing personal matters, Lady Callenwood."
"Isolde."
His brow lifted in amusement. "Excuse me?"
"You can call me Isolde. We're going to be family soon enough," she stated. "I've always wanted a brother."
A sweet fawn is what Kael thought Isolde resembled. She was completely different from his wife-to-be. "I suppose. It won't be too long now until the wedding." He shook himself mentally. He was getting maudlin, something he couldn't afford as Viremont's next ruler. "So. Do you have any sage advice for me? After all, you know Evangeline better than I."
Isolde's laugh tinkled out as she shook her head. "I doubt you'd want my advice, Your Highness. You'd be better served by talking to Evie yourself. Though you must promise to try to be patient with her. This situation is just as shocking and difficult for her as it is for you. Only you aren't defying your upbringing."
"Why should I? She obviously lacks the training to become the consort of Viremont."
"Ah, you're upset because she didn't learn a lot of useless etiquette rules meant to subdue women and train them into submission?"
"Do you speak to all your royal princes like this?"
"Just the ones who are bound to my sister," she retorted playfully.
It was refreshing; here was someone with whom he didn't have to watch his every word and gesture. Anyhow, as the princess-to-be's sister, her opinion of him had minimal consequence. His gaze softened, a rare occurrence for the reserved prince. "You think me a monster? Perhaps you're right."
Mulling over the thought, Isolde responded, "Forgive me. That isn't what I meant, Your Highness."
"Kael."
She blinked. Had he truly given her permission to use his given name? In disbelief, she managed, "I—yes. Kael." Clearing her throat, she clarified her view of him, "It's just that we grow up learning that as women, we're expected to marry well, regardless of whether we want to. If you ask me, there shouldn't be any arrangements of this sort in this day and age."
"That's easy for you to say," Kael responded sharply. "We're on the brink of war. My father is counting on me to ensure stability, or our enemies will see our kingdom fall. Do you know what it's like to be the sole person responsible for preventing the collapse of your entire homeland?" Isolde fell silent for a long moment as his harsh words sunk in. "This marriage means more resources, soldiers, and alliances that could save countless lives. Sometimes, one's personal desires must be set aside for the good of the realm. That's what kings—and queens—are meant to do."
Unsure of how to respond, Isolde was at a loss for words. Kael was right; she knew nothing of the immense pressure weighing down on him and Evangeline, demanding they forsake their individual happiness. "I never thought of it that way," Isolde confessed, feeling utterly foolish.
Kael offered her a small, bitter smile. "Few ever do. I've enjoyed talking with you, Isolde." And with those final parting words, the future king rose to his feet and strode into the night.