Author's Preface
Jamila sat behind a dark wooden desk in a large open room flooded with light. Three arched windows stretched nearly the full height of the wall behind her, and though they were the only true source of sunlight, they illuminated the entire space. Aides moved briskly between tables organizing documents while maids tidied quietly along the edges of the room with practiced ease.
Jamila glanced toward the clock and let out a soft sigh. There was still far too much to do. She lowered her gaze back to the papers spread across her desk.
Two cargo ships sunk. It was going to be far more difficult reaching the mainland for trade now.
A gentle knock broke her concentration.
She looked up to find her brother leaning against the doorway.
“You’re early,” Jamila remarked, crossing her arms as she regarded him.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Jaziel replied smoothly. “I assumed you’d be growing restless by now.”
He motioned behind him, and a moment later servants entered carrying trays of sweets and tea. They carefully arranged everything atop a small table near a plush couch before quietly excusing themselves. Jaziel took a seat and began pouring her a cup.
Jamila sighed, though a small smile tugged faintly at her lips.
“Alright, everyone… let’s take a break.”
The aides and maids bowed gratefully before filtering from the room.
Jamila rose from her desk and joined her brother on the couch, accepting the tea with a grateful nod. She took a slow sip, savoring the floral warmth spreading through her chest.
“How go things?” she asked, leaning back in a distinctly un-queenly manner.
“I sent scouts to inspect the wall,” Jaziel began. “Several sections have started to erode. They’re requesting artisans to begin repairs.”
Jamila considered this briefly before setting her cup aside.
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
Jaziel blinked.
“Won’t be necessary? What if those Thornbloods decide to cross?”
Jamila chose to ignore the slur today. She had neither the patience nor the energy to begin that argument again.
“They had no trouble crossing when the wall was brand new,” she replied evenly. “It has never truly stopped them.”
“But—”
“And besides,” she continued, lifting her cup once more, “we had a drought this year and lost two supply ships. We need to conserve as much as possible before winter.”
Jaziel’s jaw tightened, though he held his tongue.
She wasn’t wrong. The summer heat had been relentless. Nearly fifteen percent of their crops had withered beneath it, and the untimely storm that swallowed the trade ships had only worsened matters. Their resources were thinner than they had been in years.
Still… next year, he would try again.
“It’s going to take a lot of time and money to replace those ships,” Jaziel muttered with a quiet sigh.
“Yes…” Jamila murmured, her thoughts already turning elsewhere.
“What if we entered negotiations with the Sullivians and used their trade routes?” she mused aloud.
Jaziel set his tea down harder than intended. The sharp clink echoed through the room.
“Absolutely not. Besides, how could we even know they have trade routes?”
“They do.”
Jamila took another sip of tea as though the matter were obvious.
Jaziel stared at her, confusion flickering briefly across his face at her certainty.
“Even if they did,” he pressed, “it would still be dangerous to send people through the forest.”
“Not if we managed to reach an agreement.”
“And what if they decide to betray us?”
“They wouldn’t.” Jamila’s tone remained calm, but her eyes hardened slightly. “They would never do something so underhanded.”
Jaziel exhaled quietly through his nose. She had always been too soft toward those less deserving. The prick-ears were no exception.
“I cannot give my full support without first meeting the Thorn—”
He stopped abruptly as his sister’s eyes narrowed.
“The chieftains,” he corrected stiffly before reaching for a cookie and taking an absentminded bite.
A visible shiver ran through him. Too sweet.
Jamila sighed softly and decided to let the matter rest for now. There was little point in agitating him further.
“I’m thinking of taking Shani into town tomorrow,” she said instead, reaching for another cookie. “I want to see how the people are doing.”
A small smile tugged faintly at Jaziel’s lips at the sight of her sweet tooth. Some things truly never changed.
“I’m not sure that would be wise,” he replied carefully. “The princess is still learning etiquette.”
“I’m sure she’ll do fine,” Jamila said easily, nibbling at the edge of the cookie. “She’s still a child. She doesn’t have to be perfect.”
She smiled faintly as she reached for another sweet.
“Besides…” she added with complete confidence, “she’s my child. Etiquette should come naturally.”
Jaziel let out a quiet breath of amusement despite himself.
Jamila? Skilled at etiquette?
They had gone through countless tutors trying to teach her proper courtly behavior. She had been stubborn, defiant, endlessly difficult. Punished for it more than once. And whenever Jaziel had tried to intervene, he had inevitably earned punishment alongside her.
The thought that Shani, child of a Thornblood and his unruly sister, might somehow excel where Jamila had failed felt almost laughable.
Still…
Perhaps it was best she learned that lesson the hard way.
“No, no, no. That is incorrect!”
Nimue’s voice cracked sharply through the room.
The thin practice rod in her hand smacked against Shani’s lower back.
Shani straightened instantly.
“But… I’ve been standing forever…” she whined.
Another quick tap of the practice rod landed against her backside.
“And ladies do not make excuses,” Nimue retorted.
Shani rubbed at her backside, trying to ease the sting. If Nimue wanted a lady, Shani would give it to her. She clasped her hands neatly in front of her and lifted her chin, trying her best to imitate the way her mother stood when greeting people.
Another tap landed against the top of her head.
Shani rubbed at the sore spot with a small glare.
“Too high.”
Shani blinked at her in disbelief.
“Mom stands like this all the time!”
Nimue let out a sigh.
“Your mother is the Empress. She is afforded certain privileges.”
She adjusted her own posture, demonstrating.
“You are a young lady. When a man greets you, your head must remain lowered.”
Shani’s shoulders sagged.
“I’m taller than most kids my age, so why do I have to look down at them?” she mumbled.
Another sharp tap landed against her backside.
“Quiet is fine, mumbling is unbecoming,” Nimue corrected.
Shani sighed.
“But I’m an only child… wouldn’t that make me the future Empress?” she asked. “Don’t I get privileges too?”
“You are a girl,” Nimue replied, still calm.
Too calm.
“Her Majesty is still young. She will remarry.”
A pause.
“She must.”
Her voice dropped lower, barely above a whisper.
“A male heir is required to stabilize her reign.”
The words slipped past most ears, but not Shani’s. The pointed tips of her ears twitched faintly at the words.
Male heir.
Stabilize.
The words made little sense to her, but they felt wrong all the same. Her mother loved her father. She had always said so.
Then the thought came to her all at once.
“What if Mama married my dad?” Shani blurted.
Her whole face lit up.
“Then Mama and Dad could have a boy! And I could have a brother!”
The blood drained from Nimue’s face.
She dropped to her knees and quickly covered Shani’s mouth, her eyes darting around the room in alarm.
For a moment, all Shani could hear was her own breathing.
But they were alone.
Caelis sat nearby with a book in his lap, too absorbed in reading to notice.
Nimue exhaled shakily.
“Shani,” she said softly, though her hand lingered over the child’s mouth a moment longer than necessary. “That cannot happen.”
Her eyes locked onto the young princess.
“And you must never say something so senseless again. Do you understand?”
“But why? Wouldn’t it be goo—”
“Never again,” Nimue warned, raising a single finger to silence her.
“You understand, don’t you?” she asked again.
Shani bit her lip and nodded.
She didn’t understand… but if pretending she did made Nimue happier, then she would stay quiet.
Nimue smiled too quickly before patting her gently atop the head.
“Well, I think your progress for today has reached its limit… so why don’t we look at theology instead?” Nimue suggested pleasantly.
Shani’s face dropped. She hated theology. It was always so boring, and it wasn’t like the Gods were real. At least… she had never seen one.
Nimue noticed the look on her face and frowned.
“Ladies do not wear their emotions so openly,” she said with another weary sigh.
“Jamila was much easier to train…” she muttered under her breath, clearly expecting no one to hear.
Shani heard. The expression on her face slowly disappeared.
Nimue excused herself to retrieve the theology books.
Shani quietly moved to sit beside her cousin, pulling her legs tightly to her chest.
Am I really so much worse?
Nimue’s words circled endlessly through her mind.
She had to do better.
She couldn’t embarrass her mother.
“She shouldn’t hit you,” Caelis said quietly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
“It’s okay!” Shani insisted with a bright smile. “She only does it because she cares. Besides… I mess up a lot.”
“Still doesn’t make it right,” he replied, returning his attention to his book.
Shani just shrugged.
Caelis didn’t have to worry about making everyone happy all the time.
He only had to make his mother happy.
She leaned her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.
A male heir. Her mother remarrying. The fear in Nimue’s face at the mention of her father. How useless Shani seemed to be…
It was another stellar day for etiquette.
Then, as if the day had simply been waiting for the perfect moment to wound her further, the memory from the hallway resurfaced.
At least she looks acceptable and not like those prick-ears.
The woman’s laughter echoed through her mind. The strange tightness in Shani’s chest returned sharper than before.
She still did not fully understand what prick-ears meant, but suddenly, terribly, she knew it had something to do with her.
Her hand slowly drifted upward toward her ears, tracing the hidden points concealed beneath the illusion.
Would she be better if they were round?
Would she be less useless?
And for reasons she could not explain, she suddenly wanted to cry.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Dinner came and went without memory, voices dissolving into a soft distant hum. By the time she noticed anything clearly again, she was already in her nightgown, the bracelet finally removed.
Shani let out a small sigh of relief.
The bangle did not hurt, but it made her feel wrong, as though her skin no longer belonged to her. Because of that, she avoided mirrors now.
Jamila slipped into bed beside her and pressed a gentle hand against the girl’s forehead.
“Are you feeling alright, my dawn?” she asked softly, comparing Shani’s warmth against her own.
“I’m okay…” Shani murmured.
For a moment, there was silence.
“What did you learn today?” Jamila asked, trying to fill it.
“Our patron God… Noxis,” Shani answered quietly.
Jamila nodded as she began braiding her daughter’s curls.
“Mama… if Noxis is the God of night and protector of women and children… shouldn’t the men be the ones staring at the ground instead of women?” Shani asked.
Jamila froze mid-braid as she processed the question.
“I mean… Noxis is our patron God, but we don’t even seem to like her!” Shani exclaimed, thoroughly confused.
Jamila couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her.
“Why is that?” Shani pressed. “Why are men better than girls?”
Her lavender eyes met her mother’s from the comfort of Jamila’s lap.
“That’s a difficult question, love…” Jamila admitted softly.
Her fingers resumed their gentle work through Shani’s hair.
“Noxis is our patron God because she protects what the world often tries to harm. Women. Children. The lost. The forgotten.”
Shani frowned slightly.
“Then why don’t people listen to her?”
Jamila smiled faintly, though sadness lingered behind it.
“People are very good at loving the parts of faith that benefit them,” she said softly. “The difficult parts are easier to ignore.”
Shani thought about this carefully.
“Thats weird.”
Jamila let out a quiet laugh beneath her breath.
“Adults tend to be.”
“Do you believe in her, Mama?” Shani asked as Jamila finished the braid.
It was crooked.
Curls escaped in every direction.
“I mean…” Jamila smiled sheepishly. “It’s nice having something to pray to. Especially when you feel lost.”
Relief flooded through Shani.
She could always talk to her mother without being scolded.
Jamila answered her honestly.
Fairly.
Shani loved that.
Then another question drifted into her mind.
“Mama…”
Her fingers tightened nervously in the blankets.
“What is a prick-ear?”
Jamila froze. The softness in her expression sharpened instantly into something furious before she forced it back down.
Shani noticed.
“Who told you that word?” Jamila asked.
Her voice remained calm.
Too calm.
Shani shrank slightly at the sound of it. She had never heard her mother speak with that tone before.
“I… I don’t know. I just heard someone say it this morning…” she admitted quietly.
Jamila watched her silently for a long moment before drawing in a slow breath.
When she spoke again, her voice had softened.
“It’s a cruel word,” she said gently, cupping Shani’s cheeks. “Used by cruel people.”
Her thumbs brushed softly against the pointed curve of Shani’s ears.
“If you hear it again… you ignore it, understand?”
Tears burned in Jamila’s eyes.
Shani’s own eyes widened as she watched one finally slip down her mother’s porcelain cheek.
She immediately wrapped her arms tightly around Jamila’s neck.
“Don’t cry… I’m okay, Mama.”
Jamila let out a soft uneven breath and pulled her close.
She stared down at the little girl in her arms.
Shani thought she was comforting her mother, but somehow Jamila felt comforted instead.
Still… she needed to pay closer attention.
Words were spreading beneath her nose.
And she would make them stop.
After a long moment, Jamila pressed a kiss to the top of Shani’s head and stroked her curls until the trembling in her own hands finally eased.
Jaziel arrived at his estate just as the sun began sinking beneath the horizon.
With a heavy sigh, he shrugged off his cloak and handed it to a waiting maid before collapsing into a nearby chair.
Exhaustion clung to him.
He had spent hours discussing state affairs with Jamila long after their tea had ended, and still she had refused nearly every one of his suggestions.
Raising taxes during a drought would burden the people too heavily.
Forcing children into labor for additional coin was cruel.
She used to listen to him eagerly.
When had she become so difficult?
Who had changed her into this?
“You worked hard…”
A soft voice drifted from the doorway.
Jaziel glanced up.
A young woman stood there framed in the fading light.
Her hair fell in straight silken strands the color of finely spun rose gold. Freckles dusted much of her pale complexion, and her eyes, so blue they looked carved from glacier ice, watched him with quiet concern.
She wore only a simple white nightgown, plain compared to the finery of court, and yet she looked almost painfully lovely in it.
Behind her lingered a small figure, half-hidden.
“Thank you… Iselle,” Jaziel said after a moment, rubbing a hand down his face.
A small relieved smile touched her lips at the sound of her name.
The boy at her side hesitated.
Jaziel’s gaze shifted.
His son.
Too quiet.
Too cautious.
Weak.
“How was your day, Caelis?” he finally asked.
Iselle gently encouraged the boy forward.
Caelis spoke hesitantly at first, recounting his lessons, the books he had read, the things he had memorized.
And then—
Shani.
Nimue.
Jaziel’s attention sharpened instantly.
“Nimue grabbed the princess?” he asked.
Caelis nodded.
For a moment, Jaziel said nothing.
Nimue was Jamila’s former nursemaid.
Nothing more.
And yet here she was correcting royalty, speaking of remarriage, heirs, and what Jamila must do.
Jamila mustn’t do anything.
She decided what others must do.
His thoughts began turning slowly.
Deliberately.
He remembered the whispers from years ago. While he had been away, Nimue had never once left Jamila’s side.
Not once.
His expression darkened.
Iselle shifted uncomfortably.
Fear flickered briefly across her face as she carefully drew Caelis a little closer.
“Perhaps…” Jaziel murmured quietly, “I should speak with Nimue tomorrow.”
He barely noticed Iselle bidding him goodnight, or the way she gently guided Caelis back from the doorway.
His stare had gone distant.
Cold.
While Jamila toured the town… he would get to the bottom of this.