Chapter Six

Freddy, 6 years old

"But why do I have to go?" Freddy threw his head back and pouted as Queen Clarice finished buttoning the collar of his shirt. His hand immediately flew to the stiff fabric, pulling it away from his neck. "It's boring and my feet hurt, and these clothes are so uncomfortable. Why can't I just stay here?"

His mother's gentle hands smoothed his hair as she spoke. "Because it is polite to greet our guests when they arrive. It makes them feel welcome."

"But we see them every year. Don't they already know?"

"Perhaps, but perhaps not."

"Why do they have to come, anyway? They don't even like us." Freddy gave up on his collar, dropping heavily to the floor and shifting his attention instead to yanking on the laces of his shoes. Tying them in neat knots was a challenge he had not yet conquered, and he stuck his tongue out in concentration as he fought with the strings.

Queen Clarice sank gracefully to the floor in front of him, her skirts forming a puddle of purple on the floor. In his mind, Kysta's queen was the most beautiful woman in all of Eukarya, with sparkling blue eyes that he was proud matched his own, and soft blonde hair that she always gathered into mesmerizing, mysterious twists. He watched from the corner of his eyes as she folded her hands in her lap, ready to help him, should he ask.

"You can't know that."

He looked up from his frustrating laces to frown at her. "King Alfred always looks angry, and sometimes he yells at Father."

His mother sighed. "Yes. King Alfred has a temper and occasionally lets it get the better of him."

"I don't like it." With a growl of annoyance, Freddy threw his laces down and shoved his foot towards his mother. She remained perfectly still, saying nothing and looking at him with raised eyebrows until he squirmed and added politely. "Will you help me, please?"

She acquiesced at one, her fingers deftly tying the knots with a speed that was astonishing to his young mind. "It won't take very long. You just need to say hello and welcome, and then you're free to go." She tapped his other foot, and he shifted so that she could reach the laces on that shoe as well. "Though I would appreciate it if you could help Princess Eliza feel at home while she's here."

Freddy wrinkled his nose. "She doesn't like me, either. She just sniffs and looks away whenever I try to say hello." Now that both of his shoes were tied, he drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them with a sulky pout. "Her face is like a rainy cloud."

Clarice clasped her hands together again, humming thoughtfully. "Perhaps what she needs is a little sunshine."

"Like in the garden?"

"The garden might be a good option, but I was thinking of you, my little sunshine." Clarice smiled at him and stroked his cheek with her thumb. "I think that kind smile of yours might be just what Princess Eliza needs."

"But she never smiles back at me."

"Perhaps she doesn't know how yet." His mother's hand dropped from his face to his arm, and she gently pulled him onto her lap. Freddy snuggled into her embrace as she wrapped her arms around him and touched her cheek to the top of his head.

Freddy's chin pulled into his chest in disbelief and his brows drew together. "How can you not know how to smile?"

"The same way someone might not know how to jump or skip or sing. If no one ever showed you how to do those things, you would never learn."

He was thoughtful for a moment, his young mind turning over and considering his mother's words. "I don't think King Alfred would show her how to smile. Or Queen Donella."

Clarice hummed. "There's no way to know for sure. But you can make sure that she sees a smile from you. Who knows? Maybe your sunshine will find a way to break through her rainy clouds. It could be that she is hiding rainbows underneath, but you'll never see them without a little bit of love and kindness."

"But what if I smile and she doesn't look at me?"

"Then smile with your actions. Tell her hello when you pass in the hallway. If she's in the same room, try to include her in your games. Ask her about her interests and see if you can accommodate them."

"What's accommonate mean?" He turned and looked up at his mother with inquisitive eyes.

She smiled warmly. "Accommo date . It means to do your best to get her what she wants or needs."

He nodded. "Alright. I'll try to be sunshine."

Clarice kissed the top of his head. "I know you'll succeed. There's no one in this castle more sunshine-y than you. Now come along." She pushed him up and rose, taking him by the hand. "It's time to go meet our guests."

He followed dutifully, standing quietly in the receiving line as the royal family of Nedra arrived with their usual pomp and circumstance. King Alfred ignored him completely, and Queen Donella gave him an awkward smile and pat on the head as she passed. Princess Eliza trailed behind both her parents, seemingly forgotten.

She was Freddy's own age, he knew, though she was nearly an inch shorter. Her icy blonde hair had been curled into wide ringlets that bounced off her back as she walked, and her pale blue dress was far fancier than anything that Freddy would have deemed comfortable. She kept her striking blue eyes on the ground in front of her and her mouth pressed into a tight line.

Freddy studied her, contemplating his mother's advice.

She looks sad, he realized with sudden clarity, not angry. I don't want her to be sad.

He tried to clear his throat as he had heard his father do when attempting to get someone's attention. The sound came out more like a cough.

Princess Eliza's head whipped around suddenly, and she looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, Princess Eliza. I was just wondering…" He panicked, suddenly completely at a loss for words. "I was just wondering, do you…do you like sunshine?"

Eliza's face twisted with confusion. "Do I like sunshine?"

Freddy could feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment. He wished he could run and hide behind his mother's wide skirts, but he pressed on. "Yes. We have a lot of sunshine in the garden. And ducks. Baby ducks."

The princess's face cleared, and her eyes lit up with excitement. "I love ducks. And I do like sunshine."

Her reactions drew his shoulders back, and Freddy stood up a little taller. He beamed. "I can show you." He glanced over to his mother, who nodded with a wink.

"Alright, Prince Frederick." Eliza's mouth stretched into a wide smile, and Freddy knew he would do anything he could to make her look so happy again.

"Come on then! The ducklings live in the south gardens. The mama duck likes the fountain there. Oh, and you can call me Freddy, if you like."

"And you can call me Lizzie."

Freddy, 8 years old

"Lizzie!" Freddy's whispered yell was hardly loud enough to be heard above the bubbling of the distant fountain. His feet crunched softly on the garden path as he wound his way through the flowers and towards his playmate's favorite tree. If she were truly hidden away in the garden, as the footman had indicated, then she was likely occupied in her favorite pastime of birdwatching, and he had been scolded enough times for scaring the birds that he didn't dare raise his voice any louder. "Lizzie, where are you?"

A rustling of leaves in the almond tree to his left drew his attention, giving him just enough warning not to scream as a blur of pink and gold dropped from the lowest branch. Lizzie grinned at him as she hung upside down like a monkey, her blonde braids swinging like ropes beneath her.

"Good morning, Freddy."

Freddy laughed in delight and leaned to the side, twisting his head to mirror her position. "What are you doing?"

She put a finger to her lips. "There's a thrush building a nest in the top branches. I didn't know you had those here."

"I believe they migrate in the winter." Freddy puffed his chest out proudly at being able to display the knowledge he had meticulously searched out in the palace library.

"Ah, that explains it. Come and see." Lizzie pulled herself back up and disappeared into the branches. Freddy followed, though at a much slower pace, and arranged himself on a perch opposite Lizzie. She stood, balancing on a narrow branch and hugging the trunk of the tree.

She tilted her head back and pointed. "Look up there."

Freddy followed her finger to what appeared to be a messy ball of twigs. A small brown bird with a speckled chest flew back and forth, adding bits of wood and leaves to the ball. They watched together in silent fascination.

After a few minutes, Lizzie slowly lowered herself until she was seated. Freddy bit his tongue as she let go of the branch to play with the ends of her braid. Her legs swung back and forth, and she looked dangerously ready to topple over at any moment.

"Do you ever wish you could migrate?" Her eyes were focused on the hair that she twisted and untwisted around her finger.

"You mean, live somewhere else for a while?" Freddy's brows drew together as he considered her question. "I suppose it might be fun, as long as Mother and Father could come with me."

"I think I would want to go by myself."

"But what about your family?"

Lizzie looked up, her big blue eyes shadowed with storm clouds. She dropped her hands to her lap and shrugged, her silence saying more than any answer. Freddy scooted along the branch until he was right up against the trunk. He reached for one of her hands.

"You can migrate here. Mother and Father are always happy when you come to visit."

She brightened. "Do you think so?" As quickly as the sun had shone on her face, the shadow returned, and she shook her head at her own words. "But Father would never allow it. He says that I need to start thinking about how I can be valuable to Nedra. He says that as soon as we go home, I'm going to have lessons on how to be a proper lady."

"Being a lady is good," Freddy offered helpfully, thinking of his own graceful mother.

Lizzie grimaced. "Ladies don't get to climb trees. Or play in the garden. They have to stay inside and learn boring things like dancing and embroidery and how to properly curtsey and smile."

"You already have a nice smile."

"Not the right kind." Lizzie kicked her feet harder and faster than before. "Father said this morning that I am ‘an unladylike disgrace.' He wants me to smile like this." She cleared her expression of all emotion and stretched her lips in the most unnerving, joyless smile he had ever seen.

Freddy's young heart burned hot on her behalf. "I don't think you're a disgrace. And I like your smile the normal way."

This earned him one of her genuine smiles, and he couldn't help but return it. "Thank you, Prince Frederick," she answered, putting on a prim and proper air. "I appreciate your compliment."

Silence fell between them. "Do you really have to go tomorrow?" Freddy finally ventured.

"Yes." Lizzie's answer came out as a sigh. She leaned her head against the tree trunk.

"I can ask Mother if I can write you letters. I can spell nearly all the words by myself now."

Lizzie brightened. "Really? Will you tell me about the birds in the garden and what you're doing in the treehouse?"

"Of course."

She beamed. "You're my very best friend, Freddy."

"You're my very best friend, too."

"Promise you'll always be my best friend?"

"Of course," Freddy nodded seriously. "Every day and always."

Freddy, 14 years old

The soft sounds of a lullaby drifted through the nursery door. Freddy pushed it open just far enough to poke his head around, and immediately smiled at the domestic picture that met his eyes.

Lizzie sat in a rocking chair with her eyes closed and her baby brother asleep on her chest. She leaned her cheek against his dark curls as she sang, and the baby breathed contentedly around the tiny thumb in his mouth. Her free hand rubbed circles on his back, which was covered in the dark fabric of a totally impractical and yet somehow adorable formal jacket.

It was such a sweet and touching moment that Freddy almost hated to interrupt, but his excitement at seeing Lizzie in person for the first time in nearly a year won out in the end. He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door.

Her eyes flew open and met his, and he basked in the warmth of her smile. "Freddy," she whispered with a contented sigh, as if he was the last missing piece in her puzzle.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he latched on to the hope that he was.

He eased around the door. "Am I interrupting?"

"Only if you wake him up, and in that case, you will be the one to get him back to sleep."

Freddy tiptoed closer to get a better view of the baby. "So this is the tiny prince that has stolen Belinda's throne?"

Lizzie shifted her hold on the baby so that his face was more visible. Long, dark eyelashes fanned over his pink cheeks, and Freddy didn't think he had ever seen a nose so tiny before in his life. "This is Philip."

He brushed a tentative finger over the back of the little prince's fist as he whispered, "He's so small."

"He's actually quite large for only being seven months old." Freddy smiled at the pride evident in Lizzie's voice. "And he's already trying to crawl."

Freddy settled down onto a low stool near Lizzie's feet. He grinned up at her. "An important skill for any future king to master, second only to learning to use a spoon."

She kicked him lightly. "Something that you only mastered recently, if the Pea Soup Debacle of two summers ago is any indication."

"That was entirely your own fault, and you know it. You purposefully waited until I had taken a bite before trying to make me laugh."

She tilted her nose into the air. "You have no proof."

"You and Hadrian had placed bets on which of you could make me spew first."

"He told you." Lizzie's eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together in a thin line of mock anger. "I thought he could be trusted."

Freddy laughed, covering his mouth quickly when the sudden noise caused little Philip to stir. "You can trust him to be unflinchingly honest. He was so worried that I would be upset with you that he made sure I knew he was partly to blame."

A soft smile pulled at her mouth as she leaned her head back and resumed rocking. "Sweet Hadrian. Speaking of, where is your shadow?"

A confusing spark of jealousy flared to life. Despite his love for both his closest friends, Freddy very much did not care for the way she smiled when she said Hadrian's name. He shrugged. "Somewhere around here. He's started apprenticing with the royal translator, which means that he's probably holed up in the library memorizing rules of conjugation or something like that." He nodded towards Philip. "He seems like a good baby."

In truth, Freddy knew absolutely nothing about babies, good or otherwise. He was just suddenly desperate to change the subject to anything besides his older and apparently sweet best friend.

Lizzie raised her eyebrows in question at the sudden switch in conversation, but she humored him. "Father evidently thinks so. To hear him speak, you would think Philip was already leading conquering armies and fostering prosperous trade deals, rather than drooling and learning how to say ‘mama.'" Her expression turned sour for a moment, but it smoothed over quickly. "Though that's not Philip's fault. He doesn't know that his arrival into the world simultaneously fulfilled Father's deepest desires and crushed his sister's future dreams."

"That is a very dramatic take." He propped his elbows on his knees and folded his hands under his chin.

"I have a very dramatic family." Behind Lizzie's laugh there was a tremor of pain, one that Freddy had seen far too often over the years and had read between the lines of every letter that she wrote from her home in Nedra. "And Nedra's rules of succession state that the royal title passes through the male line. Father had all but resigned himself to the thought that the Doulyttle name would die along with him, but now he has an heir to leave on the throne. Of course, the Nedran court is a little put out, as there were several families whose sole focus the last sixteen years has been dangling their sons as possible husbands for Belinda. They're not quite as willing to bend over backwards for Father now that Lindy isn't going to be queen."

She let out a long sigh, and her eyes grew unfocused as she stared ahead. Her fingers absentmindedly ran through the curls at the base of Philip's head. "Which is rather unfortunate to Father, as now that he feels that his line is secure, he's become much more serious about ensuring that both Lindy and I are as valuable to Nedra as we can be."

A frown took over Freddy's face. "What on earth does that mean?"

Lizzie huffed. "It means that he sees us rather like prize animals at an auction, and the potential husband who has the most to offer will be the winner. He's already started talks with Anura and Felida, as they both have princes who will soon be of marriageable age."

He felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. "He's just going to marry you off?"

Her eyes suddenly focused again, and she lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I don't know why it surprises you. He's always been clear that I will benefit my country most through a political match. The only difference now is that he has two daughters to bargain with, rather than one."

"And you're just going to accept that?" A sour taste filled the back of Freddy's mouth and spread down until it pooled in the pit of his stomach.

"I would rather not. If I had my way, I would never marry."

For some reason, he didn't like this answer any better.

"Why not?"

Her brows rose skeptically. "Why would I? I know your parents are madly in love, but they're the anomaly, Freddy. Most marriages in our circles don't end that way. I don't want to end up like my mother." Her jaw worked back and forth for a moment. "And I certainly don't want to marry someone like my father."

I'm not like Alfred.

Freddy was caught entirely off guard by the sudden thought, and he shoved it aside almost as quickly as it had appeared. He hid his discomfort with a crooked grin. "Well, if you need somewhere to escape, you can always come here."

Lizzie smiled at him, and her eyes glowed with the warmth and affection that had only continued to grow throughout their long friendship. "I know I could, but this would be the first place that Father would come looking for me. If I were ever to make a run for it, I think I would go to Norditch."

He wrinkled his nose at the mention of the cold, desolate island country that was covered in snow for nine months of the year. "Norditch? Why would you go there?"

She held up her hand and began to tick off the reasons, a mischievous smirk playing at the edges of her mouth. "It's far away. I love ice skating, and you can do it nearly year-round there. I hear the fishing is pretty great."

"You've never fished a day in your life."

"And they have reindeer."

Freddy could tell that she was doing everything she could to keep her face straight, which was usually when he made it his personal mission to make her break. He nodded slowly. "Hmm, yes. I know how much you love reindeer."

Lizzie bit her lip, and he could tell she was wavering. "Some might say they're better than people."

"It's true. But didn't you know you can see them here in Kysta?"

"You don't have reindeer, Freddy."

"Then how do you explain the other day when a storm came through and my mother told me, ‘Look at the rain, dear.'"

Lizzie mashed her lips together, but try as she might, she could not keep the giggles from escaping. Philip stirred and opened his eyes, and she hurriedly tried to get herself back under control. "Freddy, that was terrible ."

He held his hands up in defense. "My mother's words, not mine."

She just rolled her eyes as one of her bright, beaming smiles appeared and she sighed happily. "I missed you, Freddy."

That smile hit him just a little bit differently that day, pushing past the solid base of friendship into his heart and starting to dig the foundation for something deeper. It was foreign and confusing, and yet sent a buzz of nerves all the way down to his toes.

Freddy grinned back at her and reached for her hand. "I missed you, too."

Freddy, 15 years old

Freddy clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth onto his heels. His entire body buzzed with nervous energy, threatening to burst if he didn't somehow keep moving.

Something that was rather difficult to do when sandwiched between the king and queen in the receiving line to welcome their guests.

There's nothing to be worried about. This is no different than any of the other times that Lizzie has come to visit.

Except for the betrothal agreement, of course.

His father's heavy hand landed on his left shoulder, the pressure grounding him and calming some of his nerves. King Frederick II was a dark-eyed version of his son, set twenty years in the future. "If you're having second thoughts, say them now, Fred. We can work out an alternative."

He shook his head fervently. "No. I'll marry Lizzie." Saying the words out loud felt strange and almost surreal, but he couldn't deny the sense of rightness he felt as he spoke them.

"Are you sure?" his mother's voice spoke from his other side. "This is a good arrangement for Kysta, but it is your future that we're talking about."

"I'm sure." The nerves had died to a distant tingle. "Lizzie and I are already friends, and this keeps her from being carried off by some troll in one of the northern countries."

His father chuckled. "I didn't realize that was a particular danger."

"I wouldn't put it past Alfred, if the price was right," Freddy muttered darkly.

"Fred."

It never ceased to amaze Freddy how one word from his father could contain both unconditional love and the direst of warnings. He shrugged it off, though. His parents didn't know—they couldn't know, as they never read Lizzie's letters—just how close his best friend had come to being married off to the grouchy, middle-aged king of Brisia.

Who had already been married three times.

Whose three previous wives had all died of either mysterious illnesses or in an unfortunate accident.

When Lizzie had told him, he was nearly ready to find a reindeer and carry her off to Norditch himself.

Hadrian met his eyes from his place with the royal translator across the room. As Freddy's brother in all by title, he had been the sounding board and voice of reason to every one of Freddy's hare-brained schemes in response to Lizzie's letters. Hadrian sent him a solemn, reassuring nod.

The herald announced the Nedran royals' arrival, and Freddy straightened his shoulders, taking in a deep, calming breath.

King Alfred and Queen Donella entered first, as always. Freddy barely even noticed their arrival, drawn as his eyes were to the young woman who followed behind them. He knew what Lizzie looked like, of course. Her face was as familiar as looking at his own in a mirror. He knew the exact shades of her two-tone eyes, knew the place where the light dusting of freckles would appear over her nose and cheeks when she inevitably spent too much time outside in the garden. He knew the curve of her cheek, the bridge of her nose, the way her lips would curl into a half smile first, as if testing the waters before diving in.

He knew the set of her shoulders when she was performing a royal duty, and the way they would immediately relax once she was alone. He knew the way she fidgeted with anything in reach of her fingers when nervous or upset. He knew that she secretly loved birds and could spend hours alone in the trees watching them. Over the years, he had memorized nearly everything about her, and the moment she walked into a room he was like a moth drawn to her flame.

But that day her flame was wrong .

A small crease formed between Freddy's brows as he watched her glide effortlessly across the floor, trying to put his finger on what was different. She moved with the practiced grace that had been drilled into her by hours of what her letters had referred to as tortuous instruction. Her dress was her favorite shade of blue, her hair was gathered into a low knot at the base of her neck—her preferred style because she could do it herself. Everything about her was just as he would have expected.

Then she smiled.

It was a serene, emotionless imposter where the shy half-smile should have been, and though it filled the bottom of her face, it didn't reach her eyes. Instead of blue seas of warmth and affection, Freddy was looking into icy fields of nothingness, as if she had taken every single emotion and locked it away.

"Good afternoon, Freddy." Her voice was devoid of feeling, and the hand that she offered in greeting sat like a limp, dead fish in his own.

He squeezed her fingers, searching her face for any clue that might explain the stranger in front of him. "Lizzie, what's—"

Princess Eliza pulled her hand away, interrupting him mid-sentence and turning away.

Freddy could summon no other response than to watch, slack-jawed as she greeted his mother and then moved away.

For the first time in nine years, she had given him the cold shoulder.