Prologue: The Tutor's Promise

The youngest princess of King Boris of Ezelgrave stood from her worn, wooden chair in the study room. She beamed with pride as her tutor, Master Alvan, scanned her final test on all the material he had taught her over the last six years. Eyes flickering up to Princess Oria Bevaniva, he said in his sophisticated speech, "You have excelled in every category, my lady. Do not share what I am about to tell you, but your knowledge has far exceeded that of your siblings."

"Even Miranda's?"

"Yes, hers too."

Oria's heart leaped at the news. Her sister Miranda was a mathematically-gifted twenty-four-year-old who would soon take on the duty of treasurer for the duchy she was set to inherit on her twenty-fifth birthday. All of Oria's sisters and brothers would receive at least one title from the King if they had not already turned twenty-five, the age when their father would consider them, and treat them, as adults.

As an eighteen-year-old, and the last to finish her education with Master Alvan by virtue of her late birth, Oria's father didn't view her as an adult. That was apparent to Oria in all their stiff interactions. From family mealtime to the rare outing, every interaction she had with her father could be summed up in a respectful greeting, a question of how the other person felt on that particular day if the King needed her assistance with anything, and ... that was all. He had yet to ask for her assistance, as he was quite capable of doing whatever he wanted without her. King Boris commanded his own army, managed his noble underlings, and arranged his children's marriages.

After today, the chance of her getting shipped off to an unknown land for politically-motivated, lifelong servitude increased greatly.

And she wanted out.

"What would you say if I told you I wanted to be a tutor?"

Master Alvan's eyelids lowered in a pitiful look. "I would hate to disappoint you, my lady."

She had predicted his answer. Still, fear-induced pain pinched at her heart. "What about a treasurer? I could be a treasurer."

"This is a depressing game, my lady; you and I both know what your future holds as the youngest daughter of our Lord."

Oria pressed her lips together and gripped the fabric of her royal blue gown. "You're right, Master Alvan. And I am depressed."

"No. Not depressed." He shook his head, before giving her a wry smile. "Doomed, perhaps, but we have discussed this, my lady: you need not stay doomed forever."

She raised her eyebrows at her tutor. Whenever they had talked about her fleeing the kingdom, it felt like a joke. Desirable, yes, but certainly something she would not dare act out. Just a flighty fantasy.

Lowering her voice, eyes wide on her tutor, Oria asked, "Do you mean that, Master? Will you do as you promised back then?"

The warmth in his expression made all her worries fade. "Anything for you, my lady. I will see you out of this kingdom, before our Lord decides they would like to make a friend of an enemy."