Ailea took a quick glance behind her to ensure no one was watching her. The shadows nearly engulfed her, a cloak heavy on her shoulders as she quietly slipped into the forest. She’d been waiting for this moment all day.
“My love,” Ailea whispered, breathless, the moment you came into view. “I’ve missed you.”
She was always missing you it seemed. Her day-to-day life didn’t include you, she doubted it ever would. Despite her coming of age ceremony being a highly celebrated event, Ailea had barely spoken to you about it. Most humans, after all, could not attend, and that was exactly what you were.
A large majority of people did not believe Ailea should be allowed to sit on the throne. An elf with diluted blood—a half-elf—they thought she’d bring ruin to Vesta. Having a singular human parent dictated every part of her life.
Ailea hoped you’d hug her, or perhaps she wished to be held tight. She couldn’t ask you to, though. It felt too much like when she was a child hoping for a crumb of her father’s affection.
“So much has happened,” she said with a muted smile. Truly she found no humor in her current situation, but seeing your face made her feel weak. Ailea hadn’t cried yet. Not when an elf—a full-blooded elf named Lathael —announced himself the bastard child of Aiwin at her coming of age.
Not when she realized her claim to the throne was officially jeopardized. And certainly not when Aiwin attempted to seek her out before she stormed off. Her father was the reason for all of this. She had every right to be angry at him. Lathael looked too much like her father—like her and her younger brothers, Xirin and Kelas, to say he was not his bastard child, born before Aiwin’s marriage.
She had so much to say, but the words stayed. Ailea could be someone she was not with you. You didn’t see her as a princess, but as someone more. No titles, just love. If only you weren’t human, then she’d be able to marry you. She supposed marrying Nyriel wouldn’t be so bad. He wasn’t interested in women, and she did not like men.