“No.”

My eyes stared, through the tall freestanding mirror in my room, at the lady standing stiffly behind me. I let my hand fall along my side, my golden hairbrush wedged in my palm as I tightly clenched my fingers around its engraving that formed the letters of my name. If I squeezed any harder, one could certainly recognize it imprinted on my skin.

“What do you mean, “no”?”

I pivoted furiously. Daenella, my governess, observed me with her large, mismatched eyes that seemed to be the only thing that did not wither on her face. Wrinkles had taken over the soft features of her skin that I used to see when I was little. The corners of her lips sagged toward her round chin, even when she smiled, which I rarely saw happen.

She straightened up, her expression stern, but her eyes conveyed the reality of her thoughts. "He refused your request for tonight's reception, miss. He insists on your presence, and I quote: 'in your most sumptuous and alluring attire.'" Seeing me wrinkle my nose, she added, "These are his words, not mine, My Lady."

I lifted my chin, gritting my teeth, the rage threatening to explode at any moment. If my father thought I would give up so easily, he was mistaken. "Well, tell him that I refuse. I cannot go to Dartveyn, but I will not attend his stupid reception either. He'll have to drag me there by force, and I wish him good luck looking 'sumptuous and alluring' in such a situation."

I caught a glimpse of a smile on Daenella's face, then it disappeared instantly. With a nod, she took a few steps back and made her way toward the grand Hall, where my father was overseeing the final preparations for the evening's event, scheduled to take place in a few hours.

Finding my reflection in the mirror again, I meticulously examined my long brown curls cascading down my hips. This time, a hint of a smile graced my lips. Slowly, I loosened the laces of my corset and slipped into my nightshirt, determined to show my father that I had no intention of leaving my room.

I carefully tucked away my outfit where he wouldn't notice it. I knew well that any minute now, he would storm into my room like a whirlwind and demand that I put on my finest dress so I could parade in front of the many men he had invited, of course selecting only eligible suitors in case I felt like flirting with any of them.

I wasn't wrong. After a few minutes, my father's imposing figure stood in the doorway, his ears practically smoking with rage. He didn't like being told no, and recently, I had become quite skilled at being stubborn. Perhaps it was because I had overheard the conversation he had with one of the generals, mentioning my name and the one of a prince from a neighboring kingdom in the same breath. Needless to say, I wasn't the type of woman to be forced into an arranged marriage; I would fight tooth and nail, even if it meant causing a bloodbath, before I let myself be wed to a man whose name I despised.

I smiled at my father, staring him straight in the eyes as I pressed the tube of my hand cream to let a little drop into my palm. Gently, I massaged my fingers, making sure each movement added fuel to the fire that was the king's rage. He threatened me with his piercing gaze, one I had inherited, his crown already firmly planted on his head despite the remaining hours before the reception. I knew perfectly well it wasn't the real one. Firstly, because the real one had been forged from a special gold and the gemstones adorning it bore no resemblance whatsoever to these. They might fool anyone else, but not me. Secondly, I knew the true crown was a thousand times too precious to wear to a mere reception dedicated to finding me a husband.

Father persisted in finding other excuses, but I knew his intent. I was soon to turn twenty, the age at which he began to delay marrying off the royal children. I knew my already rather limited freedom was slowly coming to an end, and I was determined to make my father's life hell before letting him marry me off to a man I would probably never love.

"Kassia..."

"Father." I interrupted, with the same smirk I always wore when provoking him. He was boiling, consumed with rage and ready to drag me into the grand Hall by my hair if necessary, I knew it. But I was just like him. I wouldn't back down, and the years spent with Draven behind my father's back had given me a miraculous right hook and, effective against the king, a fierce ability to not be movable.

He tried. Once. It had revealed to my father my hours spent training with Draven in the Cage, for it was impossible in his mind that a mere eighteen-year-old princess could stand her ground against three guards trying to drag her away by force, but that sacrifice had spared me Prince Rowan's marriage proposal, and that was priceless.

The king let out a long, defeated sigh. It had been months since he began preparing for this event, and he had truly tried to keep his desire to find me a worthy suitor a secret. My father loved me. I knew he did. He wished for my well-being, my happiness, but he also had responsibilities that forced him to choose between me and his crown. As the ruler of a kingdom that demanded an enormous amount of attention and power in its current state, he had little freedom in his choices. Everything had been predetermined. The people needed this marriage. They needed assurance. They needed to know that if something were to happen to King Urian, another head would be able to wear the crown and make advantageous decisions for the people of Ethria. Something that was impossible without a king, of course.

A queen would never suffice.

A queen had power.

A queen had charm, charisma.

A queen had the love of the people.

However, a queen did not have trust.

She had to act through the words of her king, which was why there always had to be one. She was the prompter, and he the actor whom everyone followed.

“Daughter, I know it can be frightening. I know you would like to see the world, live a normal life where you wouldn't have to marry a man you barely know. You-”

“You don't understand anything! I have never wished for a normal life. I have never wished to leave. All I want is my freedom. Honestly, father, who wouldn't want to be a princess? Who wouldn't want to live in this gigantic castle? To have everything she desires? To possess jewels by the thousands? To attend sumptuous evenings and dance until dawn?”

“What's the problem, then? Tell me!"

"Boredom, father! Boredom is my problem. What do I do when everything is over? When the dances end? What will I do with a prince who may never let me speak? What will I do chained to a throne with golden handcuffs? I could be so much more useful!"

The king's confusion was evident in his gaze. A princess, useful?

"How, my dear? How could you be useful? Tell me, and perhaps we can find an arrangement. I am the King, after all. Nothing will be refused to me that could make you happy."

My gaze met my father's gray eyes, my heart racing. This was it. It was now or never. The moment I had dreamed of for half of my life. The moment Draven and I had dreamed of. I had never been able to find the words to make my father understand what I truly desired, and now, he was offering it to me on a silver platter. So why, then, did I stand there with my mouth open and my arms hanging limply, unable to break the silence in which my father patiently waited for me to confide my desires?

"I...” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, terrified to see his reaction. “I want to join the Guard.” I opened my eyes to find Urian's stoic silhouette. He didn't move an inch, but his eyes were wild. He slowly processed my words, but I didn't stop. "I want to be admitted to the Black Dragons."

This time, he even stopped breathing. In his eyes danced the flame of incomprehension that, I could see, would never fade. A princess, among the Black Dragons? Impossible. I knew it. That was exactly why I had waited so long before speaking the words aloud. Draven was the only one who knew. He had trained me for much of my life, unbeknownst to everyone, even his sister, who was also my closest friend. Today, I had dared. But the gleam in my father's eyes was anything but reassuring.

“Do you... Do you have any idea what you're asking me? Kassia, the Black Dragons are...”

“The riskiest Guard, I know.”

“They're also the most dangerous. They're skilled, but they're mostly criminals, thieves. They'd eat you alive. Why would you want to risk your life there?” I lifted my chin, determined. “I have my reasons. I can handle it, I know I can. I've trained, and...”

“With that rogue you call a friend? And his sister, who's no better than him? They're thieves too. I don't understand why you insist on disobeying me to be with them...” This time, the fear in me turned into rage. That he might not understand me was one thing, but to belittle my friends like that was unacceptable. “They understand me! They're always there for me when I need them. They're good people. Much better than many of those suitors you'd wish to bind me to!” Father furrowed his brows fiercely and pointed an accusatory finger in my direction.

The words that followed would be his last, I knew. I was stubborn, but so was he. He wouldn't let me continue this argument. “You will never set foot there, young lady! All this talk about the Guard is over, and I formally forbid you from continuing this unhealthy training with that ruffian!” He turned his back on me, and with his assured and authoritative gait, he strode off into the castle corridors without checking if his guards had closed the door behind him, which they did immediately. Fuming with rage, my vocal cords vibrated, and with fists clenched at my sides, I screamed.

“Of course, Your Majesty!”

My body trembled with rage that I couldn't shake out of my system. I had imagined this scene a million times. I had seen my father refuse me access to the Guard just as many times. But reality was much more painful. I watched the threads of my future crumble and fall at my feet... The answers to all my questions turning to dust. However, I hadn't said my last word, and he hadn't finished dealing with my stubbornness.

After long minutes, I shook my head and lifted my chin, determined. Gently, I turned the handle of my chamber door to observe the guards stationed at the entrance. Still there, which meant my father intended to keep me prisoner for the evening. With a thin smile, I cleared my throat to draw the attention of one of them, who jumped.

“Princess.” he said, resuming his rigid posture. I tilted my head to the side, examining the details of his face. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and a brief smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, just before disappearing. Yes, this was going to be easy.

“Eldwyn, isn't it?” I launched, with the same honeyed smile. He stiffened at hearing his name from my mouth, and mechanically nodded his head. I remembered him perfectly. When he was little, his mother had abandoned him in front of the kingdom's gates, and I was the one who found him. He was crying. I had taken him to my father, and he had taken him under his wing by giving him to a family that would provide him with what he needed. I also remember that in adolescence, he had flirted with me and had immediately been completely embarrassed by his act... He never looked me in the eyes after that.

“Yes, Your Highness. Eldwyn.”

“Could you call in Gwendolyn for me, please?”

The guard next to him quickly turned his head, authoritatively. “For what purpose?” I turned my gaze in his direction. Him too, I recognized. And he was an asshole.

“I need her for my daily grooming. You know, a woman must always be presentable and graceful, even when she has no one to charm... Isn't that right?” I said, bringing my gaze back to the first guard. "Unless you wish to help me yourself, Mr. Eldwyn, but wouldn't the king be upset to know that one of his guards...”

“Of course, Your Highness. I mean... No. Well, I'll call you. Gwendolyn. I'll call Gwendolyn for you immediately.”

I nodded slowly, pivoting on my heels with a mischievous glance at the second guard. I sat back down in front of my mirror, pulling my heavy hair up on top of my head again. I knew exactly what I had to do with it, but I usually had Daenella's help to style it. However, this time, I couldn't ask for her help. Slowly, I managed to braid my strands and secure them to my skull as securely as possible. It was imperfect, but it would do the trick for as long as I needed it. I slipped into the carefully prepared outfit tucked away in a corner of my wardrobe, my leather pants clinging to my skin and the sleeves of my bright red sweater falling slightly lower than my shoulders.

When Gwendolyn entered, she stared in astonishment at my attire with her blue eyes.

“Gwen, I was waiting for you. I have...” I began, rising from my bed, where I had been patiently waiting, to approach her and gently bringing my thumb and index finger closer together. “A tiny favor to ask of you.”

She swallowed slowly, her large deer-like eyes fixed on my face. “What can I do for you, Miss Kassia?” She lowered her head gently in a sign of reverence.

I took a step towards her, and carefully took her face between my fingers. I tucked a falling strand behind her ear and observed the way her long hair was styled with a satisfied sigh. She was perfect.

“My dear, you are going to take my place tonight.”