He bowed and moved away. And that dealt with that. The 4th Princess sat in blessed silence. The Thronebearers rode on, and before the door was closed, Seraphel heard them murmuring behind their visors. She paid them no mind. Everyone, from Mariel to the Thronebearers, knew that she was being sold for political favor.

It was fine. She closed her eyes, and wondered how long she’d be married this time. A year? Would she be divorced? That would be a scandal, but the reason mattered.

A decade? If she was expected to have heirs, well, it would be different from the old [Baron] and that brat. Seraphel wondered if she’d live her entire life here. She was tempted to run, like Lyonette. But—

her younger sister was an idiot, and that was being charitable. What did she expect to accomplish? They were [Princesses]. They married (and married again when needed), they had children, they died. What else could they be?

The [Princess] closed her weary eyes. She felt herself slipping away to sleep. In the silent carriage, oblivion was a welcome thing.

The respite lasted all of twelve seconds then someone bellowed ‘attack!’ and the dark carriage’s interior turned a lurid green.

“What the—”

A flash of light and subsequent detonation rocked the carriage. Horses screamed; the [Knights] outside bellowed an alarm. Seraphel heard Mariel or the other one scream as she was knocked against the padded upholstery.

“We’re under attack!”

“Surround the carriage! Kill them! Don’t let any of the family get away! Where’s the [Lord]? Attack, attack!”

Shouting from outside. Seraphel pulled herself up weakly. Her enchanted tiara glowed in the darkness.

Inside the carriage, she saw the dim interior lit up by flashes of light. Green—ghostly and bright. And gold—the Thronebearers’ armor and weapons.

“Your Highness! Someone’s attacking us!”

Mariel screamed. Seraphel checked her tiara; the magic had saved her from the bruises of the impact.

She looked at three of the bejeweled rings on her finger, and twisted the one with the sigil of Calanfer on it. It began to glow, pulsing an alarm in a distant kingdom hundreds of miles south of here.

Satisfied that her father was aware of the setback, Seraphel leaned back in the carriage.

“Oh, really? We’re under attack? How wonderfully observant, Mariel.”

The [Handmaiden] stared at her. Her face was white, and she and her friend were huddling near the floor.

“Your Highness! Stay low! If they attack the carriage—”

“Be silent, Mariel. This is just a kidnapping. I doubt our abductors will hurt more than the Thronebearers if they’re not driven off. This is probably just Ailendamus’—”

Seraphel’s words cut off as something hit one of the carriage’s windows. Mariel screamed; Seraphel stared at the arrow buried in the padded seat next to her. She amended her statement.