“You’re not allowed to cross the border.”
I set my hands on my hips. “And you weren’t allowed to marry a human, yet here we are.”
He hides a smile and then changes tactics. “It’s not safe.”
“But it’s safe for you?” I demand.
“I’m not the heir of West Faerie.”
I peer at him, narrowing my eyes with thought. “We’re at an interesting moment in history, Brahm. Does our next monarch have to be female?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re older than I am.” I step up to him, studying him intently. “And you’d make such a just and fair king.”
“I’m not stealing your birthright, Sabine,” he deadpans. “Especially not because you fancy a longer holiday.”
“Drake then? He’s in charge in my absence—why not make it permanent?”
Brahm’s eyes grow soft, and he studies me in a way that makes my stomach squirm. “Where is this coming from?”
“It’s not coming from anywhere,” I hedge.
But it is. I’ve been chained to West Faerie my entire life, never allowed to leave its borders. And once I become queen, any hope I have of seeing the world beyond my kingdom will die.
I look out the window again. “I just want to experience things. See them for myself. Peruse pastries at the bakeries you enjoy, maybe spend a few days sailing…” I pause. “Watch a play.”
“You want to experience human things,” he corrects.
I look back at him. “Is that so wrong?”
He frowns. “It is when you’re the next queen.”
It’s an argument I’ve heard for the last five years, and there’s no use in drawing it out now. It’s not Brahm’s fault things are the way they are.
They just…are.
But part of me—especially the part that knows I will wear the crown soon—wants to know why I must submit to the rules. Shouldn’t the queen be able to change them at will? And if she can’t, who can?
But I’m not queen yet, a fact I feel in my bones. West Faerie is in a state of transition. Its queen sleeps, and its princess has not accepted her role. My current authority is strained, the kingdom and its inhabitants unsure. Magic binds us…but it’s growing restless.
I don’t have much longer. Too soon, I’ll have to take my crown.
Brahm joins me by the window. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but it seems you need cheering up.”
My curiosity mildly piqued, I turn to him. “Tell me what?”
“Regina left to buy you a cake.”
I smile because it’s ridiculous. “She went all the way into Kellington for that? I’m too old for such things.”
“You’re never too old for a birthday cake, not when you enjoy them so much.”
And while it’s true—I do enjoy the chocolate cake they give me each year—it’s not why I look forward to my birthday.
No, it’s the memory that when I turned sixteen, I met a boy. My heart danced, and he gave me my first kiss on the most perfect day of my life—before I accepted that the world is cruel, before I became jaded and callous.
Before I grew up.