Daughter of the Disgraced King

Ailsa pushed a low-hanging branch out of her way and emerged
onto the wider trail. Even the sharp, clean scent of pine couldn’t distract her
from the dead tree directly across from her, a mature oak that had been green
and healthy the last time she rode this way. Now it was bare and the bark was
already turning black. Her stomach clenched at the sight. This was very nearly
the heart of Far Terra. If the magic was failing even here, how much worse
would it be on the fringes, nearer the surrounding desert? Without more mages—and
soon—Far Terra would die.

She shook her head as if to clear it. She couldn’t really
begin to plan until she knew what kind of magic she had and she couldn’t learn
that until she got to the Institute of Magical Arts. Today was supposed to be a
farewell ride with her friends. Ailsa should be enjoying that. They’d had to
leave early to escape the gaggle of girls who always seemed to be around to
flirt with the princes. This was the last chance they’d have to ride like this
for at least a year, maybe longer. She wanted to let Pearl have a good run and
this seemed like the best place for it. Sav came out onto the trail, Cergio and
Perion right behind him.

She grinned, deciding to throw out a challenge she knew they
couldn’t refuse. “There’s an old oak farther on, about a quarter mile. Race you
there!” She leaned forward and dug her heels into Pearl’s sides.

Sav’s big, leggy black caught up to her and then passed her.
Ailsa’s lips thinned. At the last moment, she jerked the reins to the side and
guided Pearl onto the narrower track, which also cut off a sweeping bend in the
main trail. It wasn’t cheating. She’d only specified the destination, not the
path.

Ailsa sat up in the saddle to look ahead. Three fallen logs
lay across this less-used trail, with no room for a horse to take a full stride
between them. The undergrowth was too dense to allow any chance of going around
them. Pearl could jump any one of them easily, but three together with barely
room for the mare to gather herself for the next jump was more challenging. Ailsa
had faith that Pearl could do it.

She bent low over the withers of her horse and urged her
forward. Pearl lifted off, easily clearing the first log, landing, and lifting
off again. It felt like flying. Ailsa laughed as the wind of Pearl’s speed
whipped her hair into her face. They broke out onto the main trail again only a
couple of lengths ahead of Sav.

This time they were going to do it. This time they were
going to win. Ailsa turned her head to look over her shoulder. Sav’s
long-legged black was gaining on them, but the other two were lost in the dust,
too far behind to have a prayer of catching up.

She wasn’t going to come in second. Not this time.
A tiny
whirlwind of fallen leaves would distract his horse and slow Sav down.
She
was tempted, but using magic really would be cheating. And that would take the
luster off the win. Instead she leaned forward to whisper encouragement into
Pearl’s ear. “Go, girl. You can do it.” The mare put on a burst of speed. Ailsa
whooped and raised her arms in triumph as they passed the oak tree that marked
the finish line.

She jumped down and hugged Pearl’s neck, then grabbed a
cloth from her saddlebags and began wiping her down, even though that little
run had barely raised a sweat. “You’re wonderful. You’re the best horse ever.”

Sav pulled his black stallion up beside her and dismounted.

Ailsa paused her rub down of Pearl to turn to him. “I told
you she could beat your black, didn’t I? She’s faster than she looks.”

Savyon patted Pearl’s shoulder. “No. She just runs her heart
out for you. It’s not the same thing.” His eyes glowed oddly as he met Ailsa’s.
“It’s a gift. To be able to inspire that kind of loyalty. She runs beyond her
abilities for you.”

Ailsa blushed and concentrated on wiping the last traces of sweat
off Pearl’s gleaming coat. Pearl
liked
to run. And if Sav was about to
accuse her of using magic to win the race—when she’d specifically restrained
herself, too—she’d . . . she’d hit him, prince or not.

Sav looked back down the forest path to a narrow place where
Cergio had somehow gotten his bay gelding turned sideways on the trail,
blocking Perion. He swallowed and grabbed Ailsa’s hand. “Ailsa, I . . . I . . .”

Why was Sav stammering? He’d never been shy with her before.
They’d known each other practically since she could walk, after all. And even
if she did occasionally get a little irritated with him, she would never
really
hit him. She looked up into his eyes. “What is it, Sav?”

With a shout, Ailsa’s cousin, Perion, slipped around Cergio’s
horse’s flank and raced towards them. Cergio followed at a slower pace.

Sav grimaced and drew a deep breath. “You will be coming to
the ball tonight, won’t you?”

Ailsa nodded. “Yes, of course. It’ll be my last chance
before I go south to school. I doubt I’ll get invited to very many parties
there. Anyway, I’ll be there to study, not socialize.”

He squeezed her hand. “Promise me a dance?”

Ailsa smiled. “As many as you like, Sav. As always.” She turned
back to Pearl to hide her face. Who else am I going to dance with? Perion? Aunt
Izbel will prod him to ask me once or twice, but I know he’d rather be dancing
with Delea. And Cergio will be on his next romantic campaign. He won’t have
time for me.

“I’ll see you there, then,” Sav said and released her hand
just as the others rode up.

Savyon patted his horse on the shoulder as he turned it over
to the groom. Turning away, he kicked at pebbles in the gravel walk between the
stable and the palace. Why did he have to get tongue-tied? Why couldn’t he be
as good at this as his younger brother? Cergio never seemed to have any trouble
talking to girls. Quite the reverse.

Cergio fell into step beside him. “So? Did you ask her?”

Savyon scowled at his brother. “No. You let Perion through
too soon. I didn’t have time.”

One of Cergio’s eyebrows quirked up. “How much time does it
take? It’s a simple yes-or-no question, isn’t it?”

“You can’t just blurt out a question like that without a
little . . . preparation,” Savyon answered stiffly.

Cergio snorted. “No, you mean
you
can’t. If you’d’ve
been doing this right, the proposal shouldn’t come as a complete surprise to
her.”

Savyon’s ears turned pink. Cergio’s idea of the right way to
court a girl just wasn’t something he could see himself doing. Still . . . he
probably could have found some way to show his feelings—if he hadn’t been so
afraid of making things awkward between them and losing Ailsa as a friend.

Cergio choked back a laugh. “Oh, no. You’ve still been going
on as if you’re just childhood friends, haven’t you? Have you even tried to
kiss her?”

Savyon paused as they neared the side door of the sprawling
palace. “Of course not. Not before we’re formally betrothed.”

Cergio rolled his eyes heavenward. “We’re not living in the
time before the Empire, Sav! You’re going to give the poor girl a heart attack
if you just spring a proposal on her out of the blue.”

“That’s what I said. I can’t just blurt it out,” Savyon
said.

“If you’d been showing her how you feel these last few
months—say, since she came of marriageable age at her last birthday—you wouldn’t
have
been
blurting it out.” Cergio sighed, black hair bouncing as he
shook his head. “Never mind. It’s too late to do anything about that now. You
planning to ask her at the ball tonight?”

“Yes. If I can get her alone long enough.”

“Well, there’s that patio down at the end of the garden. It’s
a good place to go look at the stars. For the rest, you’re on your own.” Cergio
opened the door and stalked off down the corridor.

“But how do I get her to the end of the garden when the ball
will be in the grand hall?” Savyon yelled after his brother. Cergio would
likely know how to do it gracefully. He
liked
to have half the barons’
daughters trying to flirt with him. That kind of attention only made Savyon
want to turn and bolt into the library. Not that that was a viable alternative
for a prince.

“You’ll figure it out.” Cergio called back cheerfully. “Or
not. It’ll be fun to watch, either way.”

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