I lie still and uncomfortable for what seems like hours before I toss aside the blanket. I’m not tired; I’m bored. I search the chamber for games or dolls. My mother says a girl my age should be done playing with toys, but I don’t care. I like toys. It’s too bad there aren’t any here. They’ve trapped me in what seems to be a room for elders. There’s only a bed, a dresser, a mirror made of silver, and a globe.

I huff and fold my arms across my chest. I consider returning to bed. But then I hear faint sounds in the corridor. Multiple voices and titters of hushed laughter pass. I can’t bear this dreadful room any longer! Even with the threat of my mother finding out, I slowly open the door and peek out.

Two boys and one girl, all of whom appear to be my age, laugh as they turn a corner. I tiptoe into the corridor, quietly shut my door, and follow. I straggle at a safe distance as we sneak through several candlelit passages. Eventually, they stop before a large door at the end of a hall.

The girl is the tallest, though she looks younger than the boys. No older than nine or ten. She wears a red nightgown, much fancier than my own. It’s embroidered with gold lace, and the cuffs are a shimmering opal fabric. Black curls spill from her coif.

Her appearance and red clothes match the boy next to her. Their rich brown skin is much darker than that of the other boy, who stands closest to the door. His skin is bronze, and he’s dressed in green, the same shade the handmaidens wear. He bends over the lock while the others hover.

I quietly glide closer, heel to toe. With my next step, the wood floor groans in protest. The boy in red whips his head around, too fast for me to run or hide. I’m paralyzed, and sure he’ll call for my mother or another adult to come to retrieve me. Instead, he smiles. His teeth are fascinatingly white against his skin, and I can’t help but smile back. His eyes are kind.

“You must be the Princess of Verdana,” he says. “My father has told me all about you.” He sticks his hand out towards me. I’m not sure what to do with it.

“Lachlan, you toad! She’s a lady! She’s not going to shake your dirty hand!” The girl intervenes, shoving him aside to stand in front of me. She shoots the boy a stern look and, with a scrunched nose, turns to me and beams. “Sorry about my brother; he hasn’t yet learned how to properly introduce himself to a girl. I’m Princess Theodore of Aeradian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess.” She bows her head as regally as my mother does. I raise a brow.

“Theodore?” I giggle. The girl is very pretty, but I’ve only ever been introduced to older men who shared that name. Her eyes are a dazzling topaz and framed by long, curly lashes like her brother's. She’s far too beautiful. Who burdened her with an older man’s name?