Everyone in the palace knew that for a scrap of food, you could make the slow-witted princess do anything. The Grand Tutor, a man as radiant and pure as the moon, once gave me a small cake. For that single kindness, I trailed after him for years. Though he never showed it openly, in private he was disgusted by me, calling me shameless, so desperate I would throw myself onto any man’s bed. I didn’t know what “shameless” or “throwing myself onto a bed” meant. I only knew that the Tutor gave me delicious things to eat. He was a good person. I liked him, and I wanted to repay his kindness. Then, news of a devastating military defeat came from the Northern Marches. My father’s most beloved daughter, the Third Princess, was to be sent away in a political marriage to seal a truce. The Duchess, the Third Princess’s mother and the King’s most favored mistress, came to me herself. She brought a whole box of marzipan sweets and begged me to take her daughter’s place. I wiped the crumbs from my lips and gave a careless wave of my hand. “Your Grace need not worry. It’s just a marriage, isn’t it? If my sister doesn’t want to go, I’ll go for her.” 1. It was only when the guards at the King’s Solar blocked my path that I realized I might have agreed too easily. My father, the King, seemed to have forgotten he even had a daughter like me, so naturally, the royal guards refused to announce my presence. But the Duchess had given me an entire box of almond cakes. If I failed, wouldn’t I have eaten her gift for nothing? I scratched my head, and then an idea sparked. I turned and shouted toward the heavy oak doors of the study. “Father! Father! It’s Sixteen! Open the door!” A guard roared, “Insolence! This is the King’s Solar! How dare a wisp of a girl like you cause such a ruckus!” They leveled their pikes, about to drive me away. I scrambled to my feet and took off, running in circles around the grand entrance, yelling as I went. “Father! Father! It’s Sixteen! Sixteen has business with you!” “Who is making that dreadful noise!?” The doors to the Solar were suddenly thrown open, and a group of men strode out. The Duchess had told me what to look for: my father would be wearing gold, embroidered with a great wyvern. I spotted him instantly. Panting for breath, I waved at him. “Father, please tell them to stop chasing me. Sixteen is about to die of exhaustion.” The King waved a dismissive hand, and the guards retreated. He frowned down at me. “You are Sixteen? Which Sixteen?” I dropped to my knees with a thud, bowing my head twice before answering in a clear, bright voice. “Sixteen lives in the east wing of the Saltwind Hall. My mother was the Lady Linnea.” “Which Lady Linnea?” An old chamberlain beside him leaned in and whispered, “She was a handmaiden to the late Queen, Your Majesty. She displeased you on her first night in your service and was never summoned again. The princess she bore was… never given a formal name.” 2. A lady-in-waiting who lived in the west wing of Saltwind Hall once told me my mother had been a lamp-lighter in the Queen’s own chambers. When the Queen fell ill, the King, staying in her wing, had simply pointed to a handmaiden to serve him for the night. My mother, who was chosen, was devastated. She was only a year away from being released from service. Her betrothed was a guard in the palace. They were deeply in love, planning to marry the moment she was free. She begged the King to spare her. Her pleas only enraged him. He took her by force, then tossed her aside with the minor title of ‘Lady’ and banished her to Saltwind Hall, which was no better than a dungeon. Even when she carried me for ten months and gave birth, he never once came to see us. He never even gave me a name. The King still didn’t seem to remember which one was Lady Linnea, or which was Princess Sixteen. He smiled, a false, glittering thing. “Little Sixteen, what business do you have with your father?” “I want to get married!” I looked up at him and smiled back. “Sixteen is all grown up! I can get married now!” The somber mood in the Solar instantly dissolved into booming laughter. The King pulled me to my feet, ruffling my hair as if I were his most cherished daughter. “And who does my Little Sixteen wish to marry? Shall your father arrange it for you?” The old chamberlain chimed in playfully, “I’ve heard that Princess Sixteen is quite close with the Lord Tutor, Lucian.” The King’s eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise. “Little Sixteen, you fancy Lord Lucian?” Across the room, Lucian’s face changed. He pressed his lips into a thin line, his scorching gaze fixed on me. He looked… nervous. He was probably terrified I would say yes. I always knew that Lucian didn't like me. He was a good man, though. We met because he helped me. One winter, he found me being forced to crawl on all fours like a dog by a few cruel pages, all for a handful of charcoal. He dealt with them harshly and left me with all the silver he had in his purse. I already knew who he was. He was the tutor to my elder brother, the Crown Prince, and my third sister, Princess Isadora. He often came to the palace to instruct them. Because the servants all called me "Sixteen the Simpleton," I was determined to become clever. A blind laundress told me that reading books could make one smart, so I would often squeeze through a hole in the wall to listen from behind the hedges as Lucian taught the prince and princess in the gardens. He taught so beautifully. But I was too dull. After all those lessons, I only remembered a single line: This world a fleeting dream, our lives but winter's briefest gleam. I was afraid I would forget it, so I stitched the words into the lining of my warmest tunic, turning it over to read them from time to time. I thought that one day, I would ask Lucian what the poem meant. But not long after, Lucian, who would sometimes bring me little things, suddenly began to despise me. It was during a palace feast. A few dissolute young nobles found me in the gardens, likely mistaking me for a witless servant girl. They offered me a plate of pastries to recite some lewd verses. One of them even asked if I wanted to be his courtesan, saying I’d be well-fed and warmly dressed if I went with him. I didn’t know what a courtesan was. But being well-fed and warm had been my greatest dream for over a decade. I looked at him with shining eyes and asked when he would take me with him. Lucian must have seen it. He dragged me away, his grip so tight I thought my bones would shatter. When I struggled, he shoved me from him, his voice thick with fury. “You are a princess of this kingdom! How can you debase yourself so? Fawning over any man who shows you the slightest attention, practically throwing yourself at him! A princess of this kingdom should model herself after Princess Isadora—proud, unyielding, the equal of any man!” I stood frozen by his tirade, tears streaming down my face, utterly bewildered and too scared to move. I didn’t understand why he was so angry. This was how my mother had kept me alive. After she died, this was how I had kept myself alive. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing wrong with it. Especially after the war started, our situation grew even more desperate. We did far worse things. The Queen had ordered the palace to be frugal, but that frugality was taken from the rations of unfavored consorts and their children. Our monthly allowances were skimmed at every level, leaving us with almost nothing. If a favored lady ran short of charcoal or some other luxury, we were the ones who suffered. Reciting a few bawdy lines? If it could earn me a bowl of soup or a few lumps of coal, I would have gladly recited them a thousand times a day. But Lucian’s reaction told me, for the first time, that perhaps it was wrong. I didn’t know what to say. I just wiped at my tears. Seeing my silence, he stormed away in bitter disappointment. He never brought me anything again. And so, I continued to live as I always had, curled up in the cold, forgotten Saltwind Hall, surviving day by day. I endured the teasing and torment of the pages and maids, and felt a surge of joy if I managed to snatch a piece of meat from a dog’s bowl. 3. One day, I was discovered eavesdropping on Lucian’s lesson. The guards beat me half to death. It was my third sister, Princess Isadora, who saved me. She gave me medicine for my wounds. A life saved is a debt greater than heaven itself. I had to repay her. Now, with the northern army defeated, the chieftain of the Vargan tribes was demanding tribute. He had once been a political hostage in our kingdom, and his time here had been miserable. He was a savage, bloodthirsty man. He had escaped back to his homeland with half a breath left in his body, killed his own father, and then led his warriors straight for our borders. He had conquered fifty-eight towns in the Marches, his sword pointed at the capital itself. He declared he didn’t want the throne; he wanted a princess of our kingdom. Almost everyone assumed that our most dazzling princess, Isadora, would be the one sent. The Duchess told me that the news had made Isadora unable to eat or sleep, and she had fallen gravely ill. The King had convened his council for three days and three nights, but with our best generals wounded or dead, not a single nobleman dared to ride out and face the Vargans. There was no choice but to send the princess. Helpless, the Duchess came to me with a box of almond cakes, begging me to go in Isadora’s place. I asked the Duchess if there would be good food if I got married. She hesitated for a moment, then said there would be not only good food, but beautiful clothes and jewels. What a bargain! My spirits soared. I wiped the crumbs from my mouth, puffed out my chest, and declared with bravado, “Your Grace need not worry. It’s just a marriage, isn’t it? If my sister doesn’t want to go, I’ll go for her.” But if my father made me marry Lucian, I would be breaking my promise! I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, that’s not it! Sixteen doesn’t want to marry the Tutor. Sixteen wants to marry the Chieftain of the Vargans, Kaelen… Kaelen…” Oh, dear. What did the Duchess say his full name was? The old chamberlain whispered, “Kaelen Vargan.” I shot him a grateful look and shouted, “Sixteen wants to marry Kaelen Vargan!” My voice must have been too loud, because it seemed to stun everyone in the hall. They all stared at me in disbelief. “Absolutely not!” Lucian suddenly stepped forward, his robes sweeping the floor as he knelt in a deep bow. When he looked up, his face was ashen. “The princess is young and naive, she does not yet comprehend the meaning of marriage! Your Majesty, I implore you to reconsider!” The King toyed with a jade ring on his thumb, his eyes fixed on Lucian. He smiled. “Lord Lucian, our Little Sixteen may be a child, but she is a clever one. I am fond of this child, and so I shall grant her wish.” With a grand wave of his hand, he issued the decree. “Let it be proclaimed: Princess Sixteen has shown great virtue and nobility. In response to the envoy from the Vargan Dominion, who comes seeking a bride for their Chieftain, she is hereby granted the title of Sun-Blessed and shall be afforded the honors of a Royal Duke. She will be wed to the Vargan Chieftain to seal the peace between our two nations.” Not only that, but my father also decreed that Lucian would marry my third sister, Princess Isadora, the very next month. Lucian’s face was deathly pale, but in front of everyone, he had no choice but to give thanks and accept the royal command. All I could think about was my new palace chambers. I couldn’t wait to see them. 4. This political marriage was the best thing ever! After leaving the King’s Solar, I hugged the royal decree to my chest, giggling foolishly as I walked. A little way down the path, I saw Lucian standing there, his face a cold mask, his eyes dark pools of ink. A knot of fear tightened in my stomach. I turned to run, but he caught me in an instant. “Do you have any idea what this means? No one even remembered you existed, why did you have to leap forward and volunteer? Do you think this is a child’s game!?” He gripped my wrist, dragging me back toward the King’s Solar like a petulant child. “Come with me to see the King. Tell him you don’t want to go.” “No!” I wrenched my hand from his grasp. “I want to go! I don’t want to stay here! I hate you! I hate this place!” “You’re about to marry my sister, what are you doing meddling with me!” Tears streamed down my face. I sobbed, “No one here cares about Sixteen! Sixteen is leaving, far, far away, and never coming back!” Lucian froze, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. Taking advantage of his stupor, I tore my hand away and ran for my life. The moment I saw my new chambers, I forgot everything else. The room was warm, with no drafts, no rats, and no snakes. And on the table, there was a plate of peach blossom pastries! Sinking into the soft bed, I sighed in contentment once more. “Getting married is the best!” 5. My wedding day was set for before my sister’s, but the preparations were happening at the same time. I heard Isadora had thrown terrible tantrums. My father had her confined to her rooms, to be released only on her wedding day. Lucian never returned to the palace. He even stopped attending the morning council sessions. I paid no mind to the outside world, content to lounge in my new chambers all day. I woke up to eat all sorts of delicacies, eating until I had gained a noticeable amount of weight. On the day of my departure, I was woken at dawn to be washed and dressed. A red wedding gown was draped over me, a veil covered my face, and I was pushed into a carriage adorned with red silk ribbons. “Aren’t Father and Mother coming?” Weren’t you supposed to bid farewell to your parents when you got married? Were they still asleep? I lifted the curtain and peered out. A light, misty rain was falling in the pre-dawn gloom. The courtyard was empty. There wasn’t a soul in sight. “The Duchess said she would come see me off, too. Why isn’t she here?” The old matron escorting me yanked the curtain shut. “Time is short, we’re already late,” she said with a forced smile. “His Majesty is a busy man, so he ordered us to depart first.” Of course. Weddings had auspicious times. We couldn’t be late! “Father is busy. The Duchess is busy, too. Sixteen understands.” I sat up straight, lowered my veil, and when I spoke again, my voice was thick with emotion. “It’s alright. Sixteen will be good. Matron, let’s go.” I had wanted to ask my father if he could give me a proper name. Being called Sixteen forever wasn’t a solution. Hiding under my red veil, my cheeks burned, and so did my eyes. “Sixteen will be good. Sixteen won’t miss home, and I won’t miss my mother.” I used a corner of the veil to dry my tears, then forced a smile. Mother, Sixteen is getting married. And to the mightiest Vargan Chieftain. They say he’s very rich. When Sixteen becomes his Queen, I’ll burn paper money for you every day, so you can feast and live in luxury in the underworld. Even the God of Death will have to give you massages! 6. The spring rain fell like silk, drawing a stark, bloody curtain across the stone courtyard in front of the Lucian family’s ancestral hall. Lucian knelt, his head bowed, his inner shirt already soaked through with blood. A single crimson raindrop clung to his dark, raven-wing lashes. It looked like a tear of blood. The thorny whip sliced through the air, cleaving the rain with a whistling shriek before landing hard on Lucian’s slender back. His face was pale, but he remained as still as a pine tree, kneeling in silence. His youngest sister couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She threw herself at her father’s feet, crying and begging. “Father! Please, no more! My brother knows his mistake! He knows!” Lord Lucian gripped the whip, veins bulging on his arm. He stared at his most brilliant son and roared, “Even now, you still intend to refuse the Third Princess and run off to join the army!?” Lucian slowly raised his head. Though he was weak, his voice was steady and strong. “Yes. I will join the army. I will go to the borderlands and see for myself how these Vargans, who once groveled at our kingdom’s feet, have become so fearsome that they’ve left our entire court of nobles paralyzed, forcing us to sacrifice an innocent, helpless girl for a mockery of peace!” “You insolent whelp, hold your tongue!” Enraged, his father kicked him squarely in the chest. Lucian fell backward, his body hitting the stone ground with a heavy thud. The world blurred. He thought he saw the little girl again, smiling at him, holding a pastry as if it were a priceless treasure and saying thank you. She knew nothing. A single cake was enough to win her over. Such a pure, innocent girl. She had never enjoyed a single privilege of her title, never even had a name. Why, when it came to the final hour, did she, who had fought so hard just to live, have to be the one sent to her death? In the pouring rain, Lucian closed his eyes, a sob catching in his throat. …
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