He bowed, again, and hurried away, stopping to accept a glass of wine from one of the servants, who guided him to a group of ladies standing to one side. At least my staff were diplomats. I raised my head, using just a look to invite the next man in line to approach.

  He, too, wished to withdraw his suit.

  As did the prince, who came after him.

  And the widowed duke behind the prince.

  And the long-single earl, whose lands in a neighboring kingdom bordered my own.

  It was both disheartening, and a relief. I bowed my head after each rejection, using the time to gather myself for the next unwitting assault. Many of these men were still my subjects, and their support, in the coming months, would be vital. I could only hope that, after tonight’s display, I still had it.

  Hearing my chief steward clear his throat, and feeling Jothram’s presence at my side, I took a deep breath and raised my head. It took more than a heartbeat to hide my surprise, and even then, I’m not sure I was successful.

  I had forgotten I’d invited the elves.

  Also the dwarves.

  They were my neighbors, after all.

  The elf that stood before me was eyeing me with quizzical smile.

  “Your Highness,” he began, and I braced myself for another rejection. Instead, he extended his hand in invitation. “Would you care to dance?”

  I found that I did, indeed, care to dance with the elf, and then with his rival from the dwarven lands. I even found I had a handful of human suitors left, and was relieved to see that those who had rejected me had at least stayed to dance with others. For an evening that had started out in such disarray, it was becoming more of a success than I’d hoped.

  I danced, and I talked, and I wondered who would make the better king. I even wondered if I could rule alone, but knew my kingdom would be more secure if I wed. It would have been the same if I’d been a man. This left me with but one dilemma: Whom to choose?

  It took me until midnight to realize that Jothram had brought that first suitor to my side more often than any other. We had danced, and we had rested, chatting on a balcony under Jothram and the Steward Hanvenen’s watchful eyes, and we had parted, only to find ourselves brought together, again. When Jothram brought him to me yet a sixth time, I stared at the man.

  Jothram blushed.

  “Your Highness,” he began, but I dismissed him with an impatient wave of my hand, and turned to the elf.

  “Jothram seems to like you,” I said, and the wariness of his expression yielded a slight smile. As charming as it was, I did not let it distract me. “However, I wonder how you’ve succeeded in having him bring us together so many times over.”

  I glanced at Jothram, who was standing only a few feet away.

  “He knows I will make you happy.”

  I fixed him with a dubious glare—even though he’d succeeded in doing just that, during the evening. The elf moved closer, and I caught sight of Jothram’s sudden tension. I made myself stay still, wishing the chief steward hadn’t taken my sword.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “He doesn’t know I lost my heart to you, when I saw you facing down one ghost to protect another whose time is yet to come.”

  I started back from him, glancing over at where Vangela stood watching us with anxious eyes. Jothram followed my gaze, and then looked back at me, his own face sharpening with worry.

  Ignoring him, the elf reached out to take my fingertips in his own, and then dropped to one knee. I swallowed hard, stifling the urge to flee.

  Elven princes knelt to no one, and nor did elven kings.

  He spoke, drawing my attention back to where he waited.

  “Your Highness,” he said, and then continued, but not with the words I expected. “I know you are meant to declare your choice of betrothed, tonight, but would you consent to letting me pay you court until this time next year?”

  His words drew protest from the other suitors, until I fixed them with a stern glare, and used his hold on my hands to draw him to his feet.

  “Your Highness,” I said, “I cannot break the rules”—and some of the tension went from his rivals—“but I would be honored if you would consent to wed me when next the Dragon Moon rises.”

  I shifted my grip, until I held his hands in my own, and kept my eyes on his face, trying not to flinch as I met the surprise there. Amongst the other suitors, there was a restless shifting of feet, and an unhappy murmur, but none of them protested my decision—at least, not yet.

  I watched his eyebrows twitch, and wondered how many elven protocols I’d just breached. Did female elves even get a say in whom they wed? Or when?

  Would he reject me out of hand, despite the demands of human custom? I kept my doubts from my face, and waited, letting my grip relax enough that he could pull away, if he chose. He didn’t.

  Instead, he lifted my hands and touched his forehead to the backs of my fingers.

  “My lady,” he said, “You are the one who does the honor.”

  I turned to my guests, and saw they’d been shepherded together by my ever-vigilant steward and his army of servants.

  “My betrothed,” I said, holding the prince’s hand in my own, and raising it between us. “Please welcome his Highness Sutselket of the Arkashian Hills and Loretselk Forests.”

  My words drew gasps of surprise from my guests, and they knelt as one. I looked to my prince, wondering what my people and neighbors knew that I did not. He just gave me a mysterious smile, tinged with regret.

  “What is wrong?” I asked him, when we had retired to a balcony, from which we could see most of my kingdom spread before us. He didn’t answer, so I tried another tack.

  “What do my people know of you that I do not?” I asked, and he nodded, as though he’d expected it.

  “They know I wield an army that could swallow your kingdom in less than a day, and they’ve heard that I make war without mercy to capture what I want.”

  I felt my face grow cold, and knew I paled at his words. I stared out at my lands, silent as I turned his words over in my mind.

  “And would you have taken these lands, if I had not asked for your hand?” I asked.

  He followed my gaze, taking in the lands spread below us.

  “No,” he said, and looked to me. “I came for you alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need a queen,” he said, “And I hoped…”

  He paused, and glanced away, before turning back.

  “I hoped I could find one on my own, before my people chose one for me.”

  I stifled the urge to giggle, because it truly wasn’t funny, but, then, it was, and I giggled, anyway.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You and I,” I said, “Bullied by our people, even though we rule them.”

  He sighed.

  “If you have any doubts…”

  “None,” I said. “You?”

  “None,” he agreed, and we looked out at what would soon be our lands, and not just my own.

  How long we would have sat there, I do not know, but there was a polite knock, and then the doors opened. We turned, and I found the folk of two entourages looking at us with questions in their eyes, and the first hint of royal business we needed to attend. I looked to my king-in-waiting, and he looked to me, and then we linked hands, and rose to greet them.

  I looked for Jothram, and found him, right beside Vangela, and the sight reminded me that meetings come by chance—and that destiny can’t always be chosen, but sometimes chooses us. And as for hearts and love, and kings and queens, well, this time I was lucky to find they could align.

  There were three weddings in my future: one for Jothram and Vangela, who would stand in for me when I was away in my king’s lands; one for me, in my palace, under the Dragon Moon; and one for my king, in the elven halls of his forebears.

  Three times’ the charm, or so I’ve been told, and I sincerely hope so, because I’ve seen what lies ahead in the future mists, and the elven seers and I agree: Whatever storms lie before us, my king and I were destined to face them together, but only as long as we chose the path.