Chapter 1

A branch snaps, a breath snags, and a struggle ensues.

I whip around to see my adversary caught in my sister's grip. The filtered sunlight paints the yards of her dark curls with glittering streaks. She looks up sharply, eyes aflame.

"Go." She cages him in a headlock. "Now."

I retreat, hesitantly. I whirl around, racing past branches and boughs, leaping over meandering roots. Holding up the skirt of my dress, keeping it from hampering my mobility, and preventing it from being snared by thorns or thistles. Shadows flutter around me, movement rustling in my periphery. Soon the tree-line melts away, revealing the clusters of quaint stone, stores and cottages alike. Townsfolk occupy the open centre, fulfilling their everyday duties—currently an obstacle in my path.

The summer air burns at my back, the heat stirring the air with a mix of produce and perspiration. I dart between passing people, weaving through the crowd, casting several glances back to monitor my pursuers. Two lanky figures shove past patrons and merchants to reach me in careless desperation, drawing shouts from the masses. The current of people forces me into a narrow passage packed with the working class.

I glance behind me. The two spring on to the crates stacked on the margins and they soar over a clump of people—blotting out the sun for mere seconds as they forward flip in the air, landing back on the ground with feline grace.

I focus ahead—so close to the safe zone, until a sound seizes my attention.

I spin around to see one of them captured by the scruff of his collar.

"Oui! What I tell you, rascals? Don't be scampering about like a husk of hares."

His brother approaches with caution, hands elevated to his shoulders, scant of breath.

"We meant no trouble, sire."

I walk back, arrowing straight to them. Swarms of townspeople split at the sight of me, mumbling sentiments of deference as they bow their heads as they pass by. I regulate my breathing, ensuring the delivery of my words is stable and stern.

"Unhand him," I demand.

His eyes flicker to me before they lock and widen. He shoves Wren out of his grasp. He places his forearm across his stomach and dips into a fluent bow, turning his face to the cobblestoned floor.

"Hera Adalia." He conjures a respectful expression. "My deepest apologies, my' Hera. I didn't know you—" his eyes dart to me again, "—were a companion of his."

"And should your treatment of him hinge solely on the company he keeps?"

His thoughts visibly stutter, and he blinks fast. "My' Hera? No, I merely disbelieved him." He mends his posture. "The boy would cajole the length of the Prime about how he befriended the Hera. I thought it was a fib."

Wren turns his flustered face away, the tips of his ears burning red.

"May my presence affirm his claim. And if it is not a terrible inconvenience, we would like to resume our game."

He repeats his exaggerated bow and retreats to his store.

Wren and his brother, Eren, saunter towards me with twin grins.

"If it weren't for that meddlesome peddler. We would've won," Wren says, fingers raking through his onyx hair, cropped roughly on the sides. Bands of green line the flanks of his head, like the forest's hand, stroked its fingers along his tresses, leaving a verdant trail on either side.

My lips unfurl a smile. "If that will ease your mind, then let it be so."

"Next time," Seliah announces from their rear. "You lot will be hares. And Adalia and I shall be the hunters."

"No fair," Eren whines. "You two are always the hunters."

Seliah beams brightly. "That is because we always catch our prey."

I lift my hand to flaunt the piece of cloth tied around my forearm. A simple but exhilarating game of the hunter and the hare that two or more players can enjoy. The objective of the hare is to make it to the safe zone with its marker—the bolt of cloth—and the Hunter must capture the hare before it reaches the safe zone. We usually keep the game within the parameters of the forest. However, Seliah and I could not deny the challenge the expansion into town offers.

"And you—" Eren blows a breath to kick a long, idle strand from his face. The youngest—an adolescent—yet his hair is the lengthiest. "You, Seliah, cheated," he accuses with a playful glare. "I never heard of a hare strangling its hunter."

Seliah flashes a mischievous smile. "And I never heard of a hunter being strangled by a hare," she retorts. "All in good fun, besides we would have won anyway, as we always do."

"Though I must admit, your tracking skills are commendable," I say, to boost their morale. "If not for my sister, your stealth during the hunt would have secured your victory."

A grin explodes on Wren's face. "I knew it."

Seliah hands him a mocking smile and a condescending nod. "Sure you did. Though I wish we could indulge in your presence longer, I ought to return the Hera home or the Domina shall wring my neck."

I respond with a flat stare. She shrugs flippantly.

Wren extends his arm out in a flourish. "Allow us to escort you."

Eren mimics his brother and snorts. "Though we both know neither of them need the extra protection."

The brothers accompany us to the swells, the temporary stables for the horses. Eren veers off course to the line of stalls, one of them showcasing baskets of fruits. He pinches one red apple with an artistry of an experienced thief. Before he can take a bite from it, Wren swipes it from his grasp and pitches it back to the stall, and it lands with a wobble inside the same basket. When we arrive at the swells, the boys enter and reappear with our graceful, long-legged steeds. Eren leads the Arabian to Seliah, and she permits his assistance onto her saddle. Wren guides my dapple-grey steed to me. I scratch her velvety ear before I move to mount up, hoisting myself up to sit astride.

"Send our regards to Macie," Seliah says, her Arabian rounding them. "I know how badly she wanted to come."

Eren snorts a delinquent laugh. "Then she shouldn't have spoken back to mother."

Wren chides him with a look. "She only spoke back because you got her in trouble, knowing full well you stole the last filo pastry." He looks up and over at Seliah and I, lightening up an amiable smile. "But I'm sure she'll be allowed outside soon."

My sister and I make our way to the forest, spurring our steeds towards the overgrown path carved through the woods. Delicate light sifts through the canopy, beams of gold so bright they seem tangible. I inhale a breath, drawing in the rich scent, organic aromas filling my senses. The Arabian quickens speed just enough to trot alongside my flank. Seliah gives me an enduring, ponderous look, gazing into my eyes like one who has read a book a thousand times over but never tires of it.

The curse of twilight eyes. Through every colour, it conveys my truest emotions. The deeper the hue; the happier I am, the darker the shade; the darker my bearing. Seliah has mastered the skill of interpreting my eyes and every time she deduces; she is correct. My eyes are naturally light green but dependent on my emotions. They can travel from the light shades of Caribbean blue to a dark emerald.

"Something ails you," she states, as if her observation is unquestionable. "Will you divulge freely or will I have to annoy the truth out of you?"

I glance back at her, erecting a compelling smile with ease. "I am well, I assure you."

Seliah looks forward and nods somberly. "So you have chosen death."

A snort escapes me. She grins at the sound.

"It's nothing," I say. Less compelling. "However, you know how my mother has been taking many excursions out of the Prime of late? Some even beyond Armathis. I wager that it is not for social gatherings, otherwise father would be forced to escort her."

Seliah gives it a thought, mulling it over for a silent moment. "What would inspire the Domina to depart from the Regnum if not to attend a noble's gathering or a royal ball? The only other reason is—" her eyes snap back at me with an epiphanic expression on her face.

I nod knowingly. "You see my plight."

Seliah looks forward, releasing a drawn-out breath. "Surely father would warn you first? I know the Domina would wrangle you into any loveless, miserable marriage if the price was right. But father would not."

I shoulder my everlasting burden with my neck held high. "It hardly matters. I do not care for love, only for my Regnum."

"So you should be bartered like a prized mule?" Seliah questions, anger knocking down her composure. "Because that is what it is. Our Regnum possesses wealth and holdings. In exchange, whomever you marry gains titles and social currency, but it is all faux. Everything belonging to the Valwa will be forfeited in its entirety to your future husband. You will have nothing."

"I will have what I need most," I say more harshly than I intended. I take a measured breath. "If I bear my husband a son; he will be the next successor and he will become the next Domus. He will inherit its holdings and everything that comes with it. That is how I safeguard our Regnum, our name. It's not about love. It is about legacy."

After a long ride in silence, a wrought-iron gate rises in the distance. The guards manning the entrance open the gates and we amble inside. The Regnum grounds are ornamented with baroque greenery. A double roadway divides the front yard, flanked by immaculate and extravagant gardens with several grandiose fountains. The Regnum itself is made of ivory stone and the façade has a uniform pilaster, each given their design with definitive decorative elements. My dwelling situated on the cusp of the Cerulean waterfall.

Ever since I breathed my first, I bore the burden of being the last, of being inadequate, of being a woman.

The all-consuming responsibility of duty. It is not what I wish, but what must be done. My desire to honour both my father and my forebears weighs heavier than any wishful fantasy. My worries lay not with the man I will be betrothed to. But if I fail and I perish without giving him an heir, my line and its legacy shall perish with me.