Chapter Two

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The castle, situated on an imposing rise of land, loomed large in the distance with a backdrop of shimmering white-capped blue mountains. Ismene had never been here. She'd heard all the stories of its long history and varied inhabitants but hadn't beheld the ancient place with her own eyes.

Leaning near to whisper to her steed, she said, "My prison awaits."

Rising Wind's ear twitched, and he huffed indignantly in response.

"'Undignified,' you say?" Ismene stroked his neck. "I have been reminded enough by my parents, thank you very much."

Rising Wind had been a gift on her sixteenth birthday, just two short years ago. Most people suggested he was too much horse for a woman, let alone a young girl on the edge of womanhood. She'd heard the gossiping among guests but chose to ignore the shocked mumblings of strangers. Rising Wind looked intimidating enough, to be sure, but his spirit was gentle. She'd known as soon as she'd seen him that he was the horse meant for her.

He and the family's chamber maid, Helein, would be her only familiar companions in her new home. Admitting this small detail terrified her, and the chill of it lingered in her bones. Her parents had not prepared her for this complete separation from all she'd ever known, and she couldn't resist comparing the situation to being thrown to a pack of ravening wolves.

Her sister, Ketra, one year her junior, trotted up next to her. "What do you think of the castle, Issa? Isn't it grand?" The awe in her voice lingered in the short silence between them. "Papa said we are only here for the wedding. I begged him to let me stay with you for a fortnight, but he said no."

Ismene looked over at Ketra whose face mirrored her sorrow but for entirely different reasons. Still, it felt like a reflection of their sisterly affection. It also hinted at Ketra's immaturity in the pouty way her lower lip stuck out at being told 'no' in no uncertain terms.

"Don't fret. Father is right. This will be my home . . . or at least I must make it so. And you must prepare for your own future." She reached out for her sister's hand for a brief second. "I'll miss you terribly. Please make sure Blayn stays out of trouble. You know how he loves to steal Cook's goodies, and make dangerous contraptions, and play hide-and-seek in all the dustiest cupboards."

Ismene glanced over to see Ketra roll her eyes.

"Blayn reminded me only yesterday that now he's thirteen he is practically a man. I doubt he'll be playing such games much longer. And I heard Papa speak of sending him to the school at Conleth on his next birthday. Either that or a tutor."

Ismene sighed, her mind more focused on her own future than her brother's. "Father will send him, I have no doubt. It was Mother who suggested the tutor. Father thinks Blayn needs to meet other future lords of the Realms in order to establish connections and friendships across the land. As heir, it only makes sense."

"I don't know how you can say it in such an insipid tone, Iss. You've been crying for months over this marriage and leaving home, yet you act as though it's a good thing for our baby brother to travel even farther away. Far from the love of his mother and protection of his home."

"I have not been crying . . . not all that time." Ismene stared at Ketra whose piercing, expressive dark eyes served to heighten the intensity of her glower.

She was right in some respects. Seconds of them staring at each other past before shame washed over Ismene, and her cheeks heated. Would she ever stop being so wrapped up in her own cares? She did resent her sister and brother, because it was on their behalf that she would succumb to her fate of marrying the prince. But it wasn't fair to either of them, and this was the one way she could be worth something to her family.

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