“Candidates for what?”
With an exasperated sigh, her aunt threw the parchment down onto the table. “Candidates for your hand, of course! Once you're of age, you'll be expected to choose a husband, the future king of Eldour. It is not a decision to be made lightly.”
Josselyn stood and walked over to the window, where a black and blue woodpecker was hunting for bugs within the bark of an old oak tree. She kept her gaze trained on the industrious bird as she responded.
“Ah.”
“Ah? That's all you have to say about it? Just 'ah'?”
“What else would you have me say, aunt? Even I know what my responsibilities are.”
Her aunt picked up the parchment, clearing her throat as she did so. “Yes, well, as you should. Now, your father and I have given this a great deal of discussion, and we've highlighted a few of the more promising choices.”
Josselyn watched the bird hop from branch to branch before flying off. He's never talked to me about it.
“And? Which illustrious men have you and father deemed worthy of sharing the crown?”
“You needn't be so snippy. Your father was insistent that we consider your preferences, as well, you know.”
“How very generous.”
The sarcasm was lost on Lady Merridale, who nodded primly and refocused on the list in front of her. “Lord Dayton Hughes, the future duke of Devon, is by far the most qualified candidate. Devon is the most prosperous duchy in Eldour, and Lord Dayton has been groomed from birth to be a leader.”
Josselyn wrapped her arms around her waist, keeping her back to the room.
“Lord Dayton, got it. Who else?”
“Sir Edgar Preston would make a good match. He has a very distinguished war record, and he's one of your father's closest confidantes, aside from Lord Burgundy.”
“That's probably because they're almost the same age. Sir Edgar is in his forties, at least.”
“He's a bit older, yes, but I think you would benefit from a more mature husband, someone who could help temper that recklessness of yours.”
Josselyn sighed. Arguing would just draw things out, and her head was beginning to throb.
“Fine. Lord Dayton and Sir Edgar, are those my only choices?
Her aunt hesitated. “There is Prince Stefan, of course.” Josselyn turned her head, her eyes widening in shock.
“Now, hear me out.” Her aunt held up her hand to stop the protest that was already forming on Josselyn's lips. “I understand your concerns about marrying an Antoski, but there's no denying it would make for a very powerful alliance. All I ask is that you consider it.
Josselyn gritted her teeth. “Fine, I'll consider it.” Consider how much it's never going to happen.
“Good. Now, let's see, that just leaves... ah, yes, Sir Edmund Brandt.”
“Edmund? He's on the list?”
“Your father thought he should be included, as he not only comes from an excellent family, but the two of you have known each other since childhood. He wouldn't be my first choice, but your father has always been rather sentimental when it comes to you.”
Josselyn turned back to the window, staring out through the glass blankly. Could I really consider marrying Edmund? He's always been like a brother to me. It'd be better than marrying a stranger, though. She bit down on her lower lip. Is he even interested?
Her aunt continued to ramble on about this lord or that, who was worth speaking to and who was a waste of her time. Josselyn was too lost in her own thoughts to care, murmuring vague acknowledgments whenever her aunt paused. The sound of the door closing indicated that she was finally alone.
A hand-picked list of approved suitors. How... neat. No messy emotions like love to contend with, heaven forbid.
Not that she'd ever been in love before, not really. As a girl, she'd focused all of her energy on her training, honing her skills in order to keep up with the boys who were so much larger than she.
A memory pricked at the back of her mind, reminding her that there had, in fact, been one boy whom she'd cared for, had even fancied herself in love with. He'd made his disinterest in her clear, however, squashing the budding feelings before they even had a chance to bloom.
Now, as she faced the reality of marriage, his face flickered through her mind, unbidden. She touched the glass pane, her mind conjuring his image on the grounds outside. Her lips parted, and his name slipped out on a whisper.
“Alex.”
Chapter Five
Five years earlier
Thirteen-year-old Josselyn walked around the wall of the training grounds, the sword her father had specially made for her as a birthday gift clutched in her eager hand. He'd finally relented and given his permission for her to join the group of boys who trained with General Weston every morning. Today was to be her first time, and she was practically skipping in her excitement.
“Is it true the princess is going to be training with us now?”
The disgruntled male voice brought her up short, and she hesitated just outside the entrance, listening.
“That's what they're saying.”
“But she's a girl, she's just going to get in the way,” the first boy protested.
Someone else snorted. “She doesn't look much like a girl, the way she's always running around in breeches like a stable hand.”
“And have you seen her arm? It's super creepy.”
Josselyn's cheeks burned as the voices clamored in agreement, and she pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could disappear inside it. A familiar voice rose over the others, silencing them.
“I'd suggest you spend less time ogling the princess, and more time practicing your sword fighting, McLeod.”
“What are you trying to say, gypsy freak?”
“I'm saying you're rot at sword fighting, what do you think I'm saying?”
“I think you're saying you want me to beat your ass.”
There was a round of shouts and whistles, as the other voices encouraged them, pushing for a fight. Josselyn winced at the sound of a fist meeting flesh, followed by the sounds of people scrabbling and scraping in the dirt.
“Princess Josseyln, what are you doing out here?”
She jumped, letting out a startled yelp,
