Chapter One

CANDRA

The moment I hear the palace messenger is looking for me, I hide in my closet.

It’s completely childish. I know it is. It’s just that any time someone has a message of “grave urgency” to give me, it means something terrible has happened.

The first time, it was my father’s death to bandits.

The second time, it was that my mother had died of sweating sickness.

And the third time, my sister Erynne was told it was time for her to marry my nemesis, Prince Lionel. I still haven’t forgiven her for agreeing.

So, any message that’s for me and me alone is not good news.

My maid enters my quarters and looks around, frowning. “Lady Candromeda?” she calls as she takes a few steps forward, her dark blue skirts swishing as she strides. 

I chew on my nails, hoping she doesn’t look in the heavy wooden wardrobe, and if she does, that she doesn’t look behind the huge, embroidered pink panniers that I wore thrice last season. They’re incredibly stupid skirts, but at least they’re easy to hide behind. 

Riza gazes around my quarters, her eyes narrowed. “She was just here. And she has to come back soon for her medicine.”

Wincing, I wrinkle my nose. Riza’s right. I hate that she’s right.

I can never get very far because I’m tied to my nurse. She has to administer the potions I take daily, or else I’ll get sick and die.

It’s the curse of the Vestalin line to have tainted blood. My mother’s sister had it. My sister Erynne has avoided it, and thus she’s the valuable one. Our youngest sister, Meryliese, was spared the family curse too, but because she’s the youngest, she must be dedicated to the gods. She left when I was a toddler, so I barely have any memories of her.

The Vestalin family is down to myself and Erynne.

And I’m tainted.

It’s…inconvenient.

The Vestalin line dates back to the first kings of Lios. There has always been a Vestalin dedicated to the gods, and there has always been a Vestalin family to bring fortune to the people of Lios.

We are the blood of heroes. The first Vestalin, Ravendor Vestalin, sacrificed herself to save our kingdom, and ever since, we have been held and revered as the best of humankind.

Well, the non-tainted ones are.

I’m the tainted one, so I’m more or less forgotten. The taint in my blood, the Vestalin curse, means I’m useless as a bride because I’m barren. Those with the curse cannot have children, and those without the curse have a chance of passing it to their children.

My mother bore six children to my father. Only three of us survived childhood, and I am the only one who was tainted.

Luck was not with me then, and it’s not with me today. As Riza looks around, my nurse enters my chambers holding the silver tray in her arms with a vial of medicine on top, steaming.

She sets it down in the usual spot next to my chair by the fireplace and begins the preparation of the potion.

Dragon shite. 

“Princess?” My maid calls out again, heading over to my adjoining bedchamber in case I’ve appeared there. She glances back at the messenger, who lingers in the doorway, straightening his livery. “Your medicine has arrived right on time.”

Pursing my lips, I decide to give up on hiding. I kick open the door to the wardrobe and tumble as gracefully as I can from behind the mess of skirts and silks. I throw my hair back and straighten my clothing, lifting my chin as the messenger gapes.

“Have you seen my red silk corset, Riza? I was looking for it,” I lie.

She just snorts and moves to my side. “Let me help you with your sleeve, my lady.” As I sit gracefully into my chair, she mutters just low enough for me to hear. “Hiding in the closet like a child, and you a lady of four-and-twenty. For shame.”

“No one asked you,” I mutter as she pulls on the knots of my over-sleeve, removing it from my gown while my nurse sits across from me, busy at work.

Once my arm is bare, I extend it out so I can receive my medication, looking away as Riza ties a tight golden band around my upper arm. 

I can’t look at the needles. Seeing them shoved into my arm makes me feel faint, so I always turn my head. I use this opportunity to glance over at the messenger, who’s gawking as my ladies prepare me for my daily medicine.

“What?” I snap, knowing that I’m being unfair to him. “Haven’t you ever seen a potion administered before?”

He swallows hard, staring at my nurse. 

I glance over just in time to see her pick up a large syringe and a needle as long as my finger. Oh, gods, I had to go and look, didn’t I?

I clench my jaw and keep my eyes focused on the messenger as my nurse taps my arm, looking for the vein. “You had a message for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” he blurts out, wincing just as the needle pricks my skin. His face goes pale, and he fumbles with the letter, showing me the wax seal. “It’s from the Alabaster Citadel.”

“War foolishness, most likely,” Riza comments, holding my removed sleeve. “It’s all anyone wants to talk about now.”

She’s not wrong, yet why would someone send war correspondence to me? It should go to King Lionel, and if not him, then his advisors or my sister Erynne, who rules at his side (or around him when she can). Truly, I’m too far down in the pecking order to be bothered with war updates.

“Are you certain it’s for me?” I ask the messenger. “I’m Princess Candra, not Queen Erynne.”

“It is for Princess Candromeda. Others were sent to the queen and the king.” 

Well, that’s not good. He holds it out for me to read, but I’m too busy getting my daily stabbing. Plus, I’m not much of a reader. That’s Riza. She handles all my correspondence. “Read it out to me.”

Looking uneasy, he breaks the wax seal and unfolds the thick parchment, scanning the contents. My arm burns and pinches with the influx of medicine into my veins, then, finally, it stops. My nurse presses a towel on my arm to slow the bleeding.

At least we’re done for today, I think to myself.

“To Princess Meryliese’s family,” the messenger begins, reading my letter. “The esteemed princess set sail upon the Northern Light as was commanded by King Lionel last month. Her destination was the Tower of Balance, so she might fulfill her duty to her people now that the Golden Moon will rise soon. I regret to inform you that the Northern Light ran into a sandbar—” he chokes on the words.

Riza gasps; my nurse goes still.

“And,” the messenger starts again slowly. “The hull of the good ship was destroyed. There were no survivors. Please inform the king that we await news of the Vestalin line and advice as to whom shall take Royal Offering Meryliese’s place. Yours sincerely, the Archbishop of the Alabaster Citadel, First of his Line.”

I swallow hard. I’m speechless.

At my side, Riza begins to weep quietly while my nurse rubs a cream that prevents infections into my arm. 

I have no tears. I don’t remember Meryliese. But now, only Erynne and I are left in the line of Vestalin.

And one of us has to be the sacrifice to the tower.

I suddenly want to hide in my closet again.

I hold my hand out for the message. The man hands it over to me, and I stare at the important-looking parchment as if it somehow holds solutions to the very real problem of my sister’s death.

I want to feel something for Meryliese, but I don’t. I have vague memories of a toddler with ebony curls like Erynne’s and bright green eyes. I remember my mother’s relief upon hearing that Meryliese wasn’t cursed. I remember my mother waving her handkerchief bravely as the Alabaster Citadel sent monks and priestesses to come and take my sister away at the age of two so she could be raised to be the Royal Offering, and I remember Mother crumpling the moment they were out of sight.

She cried for three days.

Then, she dried her tears and never cried over it again.

“A Vestalin must always do her duty,” she’d told Erynne and me. But her focus was on Erynne as she said the words because I’m cursed and useless. I remember that just like I remember Erynne’s brave smile. 

Poor Erynne. She’s just as trapped in her destiny as Meryliese was.

I’ve been the only one with a modicum of freedom, and it’s all because of the curse. It makes it impossible for me to carry on our bloodline. I’m too weak, too fragile for childbirth. With the curse in my blood, I have to eat regular meals and avoid strenuous activity, lest the bad blood go straight to my heart.

My sister Erynne has always been the important one. She spent her childhood preparing to marry a king, while I spent mine trying to avoid my nurses and the inevitable needles.

Erynne learned to speak four languages and how to ride a horse. I learned that I get headaches if I sit up too quickly after taking my medicine, and it’s best to take a brief nap afterward. Erynne can read and write and draw and sing.

I read passably but can barely scrawl my name. No one cares, though, because I’m the cursed one.

At least, no one has cared until today. Now that Meryliese is dead, I worry what this means for Erynne and me.

I stare at the letter in my hand and then crumple it and toss it aside. “You said this was delivered to the king and my sister a short time ago?” 

“Aye, my lady.”

Dragon shite. That means they’re going to want to see me soon. I jump up from my chair and instantly get dizzy, the concoction racing through my veins with unbearable heat. Immediately, I sit down again, pressing my fingertips to my brow and breaking into a cold sweat.

“My lady,” Nurse chides. “You know you must rest for a few minutes after your medicine.”

I nod absently, rubbing my brow. “Riza, I need to change to see the king.”

“Something elegant, my lady?”

“No, something garish. Pink, I think. And get the panniers.” I hate those things, but they do make quite an entrance. “And the yellow chemise that normally goes under the rust-colored gown. Let’s pair the two of those together.”

“That is…quite a choice, my lady,” Riza murmurs.

It’s a hideous choice, loud and obnoxious and wholly unbecoming of the Vestalin line, but that’s exactly the point. I mean to show the king, in very small, subtle ways, that I’m not right for his plans.

That Meryliese’s death means he should call off his war.

That no Vestalin is suitable to go to the Tower of Balance, and we’ll just have to figure something else out.

“Get my jewelry too,” I tell her. “And cosmetics.”

I aim to be as unpalatable as possible when I see my dear brother-in-law again, just to remind him once more that Candra Vestalin is a disappointment to all. 

That no one can depend on her to serve the gods, and that the entire matter should just be forgotten.