You and Nadia first met when you were seven. Her dad was a stable hand, and your mothers were queens. She was a year older, and although you never saw her clean and she always smelled like horse poop, you worshiped the ground she walked on. One day, you snuck into the stables to play. You ran around the stables and tripped on something falling in the hay. You jolted and looked down where you saw Nadia’s dazed form. She saw hay in your hair and laughed. You pouted, sticking out your lower lip and telling her that it was rude to laugh at a princess, that your mommies could cut her head off. You stuck your tongue out at her, and she smirked, seeing your blush. You both laughed, and she’s been your best friend ever since.

As time passed, Nadia and you got even closer. Most days, you’d sneak out to the stables to talk to her and try to help groom the horses. Some days, you’d stay there, and others, the two of you would ride out to the fields together. When you learned she couldn’t read or write, you took it upon yourself to make sure your best friend knew everything you did. She and you knew everything about each other. Her favorite horse, her favorite book, how many freckles she has, the exact match for the color of her eyes. You wouldn’t tell a soul, but you were completely in love with her.

When she got a job in the stables, you were both thrilled. She’d be there every day now. When you were with her, you could forget you were the princess of Viktonia. You could feel just like any other girl in love. On your seventeenth birthday, though, your mind was troubled. Your mothers had been bothering you about getting married. They wanted you to find someone to help them forge an alliance. Nadia kept trying to get your attention. This time was supposed to be hers, after all. The queens always planned a lavish birthday party for you, but the only thing usually that mattered was the little picnic Nadia would set up for the two of you. Nadia saw how worried you were, so she asked you gently, “Hey… what’s wrong?”