The first crack of thunder rolled across the distant sea and I looked up automatically.

Dark clouds stretched across the horizon beyond the western cliffs, turning the evening sky shades of steel and silver.

Finally. A storm. About damn time.The palace had spent the last six months holding its breath. The weather might as well join the rest of us.

A grin tugged briefly at my mouth as I leaned against the stone railing overlooking the lower courtyards.

Far below, servants hurried across the grounds carrying crates before the rain arrived. Guards changed shifts. Stablehands led horses toward shelter.

Life continued. As if nothing had changed. As if everything hadn't changed.

I drummed my fingers against the railing.

Three months. Three miserable months. That was all that remained before the kingdom got what it wanted.

A choice.

The thought immediately irritated me. It irritated me every time it surfaced. Which was often. Far more often than I cared to admit.

The first few weeks after the king's announcement had been tolerable. Awkward. But tolerable.

The palace buzzed with excitement. Nobles whispered behind jeweled fans. Servants traded theories in kitchens and hallways. Nothing unusual there. Palaces survived on gossip.

The problem was that nobody seemed capable of shutting up afterward. Six months later and somehow things had only become worse.

Every dinner. Every celebration. Every council meeting. Every damned conversation. Always the same thing. The princess. The selection. The future. Who she favored. Who she spent time with. Who she danced with. Who she smiled at.

Gods forbid she breathe in someone's direction.By morning, half the court would be planning a wedding. Idiots. The lot of them.

A gust of wind tugged at my coat. Rain lingered somewhere nearby. Close now. I welcomed it. Storms were honest. Storms didn't whisper behind closed doors. Storms didn't smile while hiding knives. Storms arrived, made their intentions known, and left destruction in their wake.

There was something admirable about that.

A memory surfaced unexpectedly. Six children racing horses across an open field. Laughter. Shouting. Ellian nearly falling from the saddle because he insisted on standing while riding.

The image hit hard enough that my jaw tightened.

Four years. Four years and I still caught myself expecting to see him. Still caught myself turning toward empty spaces. Still caught myself hearing echoes where there should have been silence.

I exhaled slowly.

The storm wasn't the only thing building. The truth was that everything felt different now. Not because of the selection. Not really. The selection had always existed. The promise had been made before most of us were old enough to understand it.

No.

What changed was that suddenly there was a deadline. A finish line. A moment approaching that none of us could ignore anymore.

After that... Everything would be different.

The realization sat poorly in my chest. Like a stone I couldn't swallow. I hated it.

Not because I feared losing. The princess wasn't a tournament prize. She wasn't something to win. The thought alone made me grimace.

No.

What bothered me was something far worse. For years it had been easy.Simple. The future belonged to someone else. Then Ellian died. And suddenly there wasn't an obvious answer anymore.

Just possibilities. Hope. Dangerous, stupid hope. I pushed away from the railing. The motion restless. Unsettled. Everything lately seemed designed to make me restless.

A laugh escaped me. Sharp. Humorless. Gods. Alder was probably overthinking himself into exhaustion. Marek looked one minor inconvenience away from strangling a diplomat. Sorren had somehow become even quieter.

And I—

I was standing alone on a balcony arguing with my own thoughts.

Pathetic.

Thunder rumbled again. Closer this time. The wind shifted. And through the growing darkness, I spotted movement at the far end of the balcony.

A familiar figure.

Of course.

Because somehow, no matter how large the palace was, I found her.