4: Preparation

The forest green gold-trimmed gown was the correct choice. Both of the young women knew it was fate as it was correctly fastened around Isana's waist. She felt confident the second she exited her bed-chamber, the dress flowing graciously at her sides, but not too long to make her uncomfortable. The corset was tight but provided enough room to breathe. The sleeves were medium length and swayed with each movement she made. Isana always felt beautiful when Freya was the one who had prepared her. The hemline of her bodice hung low, but not nearly enough to suggest a sexual innuendo, even if the intended reason for the marriage was to produce an eventual heir.

And to make matters better, her entire look had been completed within the hour. King Alaric did not even need to send a messenger as a warning about their time management. The young Princess had already tried such a tactic, frightened to meet a possible suitor. But now, that afternoon, she had seemed to finally accept her fate.

Isana gave Freya's hand one last, anxious squeeze.

"Deep breaths." Freya encouraged. "Keep your head held high no matter what."

The young Princess nodded in reply before turning away, walking as confidently as she could around the corridor until she was facing the main stairway, covered with an expensive cashmere carpet that exemplified the marble staircase. Though high up, she could hear the guests' voices, her father's becoming distinct among the chatter.

Isana grabbed onto the pure copper handrail to steady herself and her heels as she descended. As Freya had suggested, her chin tilted up as well as her posture.

It had only taken a moment for the young Princess to reach the main foyer, and as she did, her father turned his head.

It was just the King and his best friend, Gerold. Isana breathed a sigh of relief as she was granted another moment to gather her composure before being introduced to the Prince.

"Princess, my darling, how lovely you shine in that dress." Gerold smiled, bowing his head slightly in a sarcastic greeting.

"Gerold, lovely to see you." She chuckled, deciding to practice her curtsy and indulging in the lighthearted joke. One joke from Gerold was enough to ease her mind.

King Alaric eyed Isana's gown in return, nodding in approval. He was happy to see that her usual, careful, and inherited demeanor had returned, one that would surely impress their guests. "I thought you would take longer. I sent the King and the Prince to the dining room. They are waiting as we speak."

"Freya is quick," Isana replied. "I am also eager to meet them."

King Alaric took a moment to reply, glancing to Gerold for an answer as to how she had gathered herself and her emotions so quickly. "Really?" Was all he was able to mutter. He was expecting another outburst, another bitter and angry monologue of how her freedom was being stripped away.

The father and daughter had had enough of the fighting. They both knew what was required of them by blood. It was the unfortunate reality of power and the customs that had been established for generations.

"Yes." She said, just as confidently, refusing to even think about what had happened earlier that morning.

Both men had been suspicious that the reason Isana had been so defiant on searching for a suitor to the throne was because she had been continuing her relationship with Sir Lukas. They had been correct, but now that was in the past. At least, she had requested that it would be. Isana wasn't sure how she would react if she were to see him again, if he were to be in the same room.

Only Lukas would be able to see through her facade, and only he would be able to make it crumble.

This was why Isana requested, "I only ask that Sir Lukas not be present for the remainder of King Salvador and Prince Bastian's stay."

"I will see to it personally," Gerold replied, taking note of how her face had suddenly become expressionless as if she had read their mind or possibly eavesdropped on their previous conversation.

Gerold commended Isana for how cunning she was, how observant she was regardless of the situation. He left within the next breath, wishing them both a prosperous and peaceful private conference and meal.

"Let's not keep them waiting then, father." The young Princess said as she watched Gerold scurry in the opposite direction, undoubtedly going to deliver the heartbreaking news to Lukas. Isana did not want to imagine how he would take such information, as he had been protecting her since their teens, since the very day he had joined the Slasian ranks.

Despite that, Isana had to remind herself that her life was worth more than a childhood lover. Her corporation was detrimental to peace throughout not just her kingdom but the entire country. Her decision to marry, the seriousness of the meeting she was walking into could save many, many lives to come.

At that moment, even she did not realize what her meeting with Prince Bastia could bring, what their love could offer the world. Isana had been sheltered her entire life. She did not know of famine, of war, of death. And now, she was going to dive into the harshness the world had to offer headfirst without protection.

She would soon realize what her own prejudices offered, the destruction war brought upon the losing kingdom, and why her father was desperate to make amends at any means necessary.

"Well?" Isana asked, still refusing to look her father in the eye. She took a step forward and then realized her father had not moved an inch.

"Are you truly ready?" King Alaric turned his gaze down the hallway to where the guests waited. His expression remained stoic despite his words of concern.

"I don't think I will ever be ready for such responsibility," Isana countered, deciding to walk ahead anyway. Her father tagged along after her. He suddenly realized that his daughter had come more prepared for the first time in his life than he.

He wasn't ready to give his daughter away. He wasn't ready to step away from being King.

"Let's just see how it goes," Isana whispered, her heels clocking against the patches of laid stone that were not covered by carpet. Despite his sudden reluctance, Isana knew what his ultimate decision would be.

The young Princess knew she must stay in line and prove to her father that she was capable of becoming a queen. His approval was one she held dearest. Even if his current actions ignited rebellion from deep within her soul, it was coming from a place of love. He was trying to provide her the best life possible. The worst thing he could do was leave her without a family and without guidance.

Becoming queen was far more important than anything she had cared about in her life.

"Once the Kaarella's leave, I want you to tell me everything."

King Alaric snapped his head towards his daughter. "What do you mean?"

"Everything about the war. Everything about our family, everything about everyone who resides in this castle. I need to know it all just in case."

"Why?" King Alaric furrowed his eyebrows, not in disapproval but in shock and confusion about how she came to such a conclusion.

"Just in case." She whispered, both of them stopping as they came to the front doors. The King nodded, and in return, the armored guards pushed the large wooden doors open. "I have a feeling that something terrible is going to happen."

"Okay." Her father replied before the doors were fully pried open. "It's about time you learn what you will be fighting for, about the truth of this land."

Isana did not make a commotion on his statement. Instead, her eyes remained locked on what was before her. The sunlight shone through her favorite stained glass windows, cascading an entrancing rainbow illumination across the dining hall.

And in the middle of the luminance was a handful of men, one of them she immediately recognized as Prince Bastian. The older man, who resembled Bastian's features, had to be King Salvador. There was a servant present and another man who was dressed in full body armor. She assumed he must be some sort of general as she glanced at the sword resting along his hip, one that looked to be forged from pure gold, a sword that only an army commander or lieutenant would brandish.

As the doors opened, Bastian too turned to gaze at the lady he was intended to meet. Their eyes locked through the silence, the only sound being the wooden doors grinding against the floor as they were pulled closed.

"Princess…" He uttered, eyes slightly widening, but not enough to be off-putting. His gaze alone was enough to make her blush, as she briefly averted her gaze, shyly coming to fold her hands in front of her.

Prince Bastian was more handsome than she could have imagined. He had dark, almost jet black hair that curled and spiked in every direction. It was messy, but it suited him. It suited his dark green eyes that seemed to hold a thousand adventures of places she couldn't even dream about. He was tall, shoulders broad, almost too large to be fitted into the cloak he was wearing, a cloak that was complemented with a fur collar, one that wrapped comfortably around his neck and down his shoulders. He was wearing nothing underneath the jacket, as Isana glimpsed his shifting muscles underneath. She became embarrassed when she noticed a tattoo that might curl from the front of his torso to the back.

It was summer travel attire. The young Princess had to remind herself to prevent a blush from spreading across her face. They came from an area that had a much warmer temperate.

She proceeded to curtsy. "Prince Bastian." She greeted, then turned to his father. "King Salvador."

King Alaric ushered his daughter forward, noticing the tension that flowed between them. He recognized it to be as intense as what he had felt for his wife. He internally sighed, feeling some sort of relief to know that they were both attracted to the other.

Perhaps it would be easier for them that way.

"King Salvador." King Alaric outstretched his hand, clasping their hands together and shaking. "It's good to finally meet you after all this time. Thank you for coming."

Their conversation was blurred out the second Isana gained the courage to lift her head. She was now standing in front of Bastian, undeniably smitten but also still cautious. He had to be upholding a similar act. It would be naive of her to think any differently.

"You are as beautiful as I have heard, Princess Isana." Bastian complimented.

"I can say you are just as handsome." Isana came back up to stand straight, still intimidated under the Prince's staggering height. She tried to keep her gaze focused on his own and not the wonders of his exposed upper body.

What else could she possibly say? It was as if any means of conversation had vanished from her mouth, from her throat, from her brain. All she could do was hope that her father would notice and force a conversation upon them. A negotiation like she had intended, not the compliments that were being thrown her way.

Isana was used to formal conversations like this, but coming from Bastian, it was different; it made her nervous, his intentions unknown. She was attracted to him. Pitifully, it made her heart race.

The Prince was a man who was finally on equal footing, one who was just as powerful.

"More charming than I had hoped for." Bastian continued, his voice low, concealed for only her ears to hear. "But I hope there is more in that pretty little head of yours."