“If it can fit in there, you can have it.”
Emilie peered into the empty bag. “That seems really irresponsible.”
Skya nodded. “Probably is. You don’t have to decide tonight. But once you decide, you just hold the bag against your heart and say, ‘Thank you for the—’ and then say the gift.”
“This feels like another test.”
“I am not…Why do you think I’m testing you, Brat?”
“Probably a test,” Jeremy said.
“I’ll try not to accidentally blow up the world with it,” she said. “Wait, can I swear my undying loyalty to you now?”
“If you want,” Skya said. “No pressure.”
“I want. And Fritz too.”
“Lord Jeremy? Sword, please.”
Jeremy passed his queen his sword. Emilie knelt, and Skya tapped her gently on her left shoulder, then her right. Then with a butter knife, she tapped Fritz even more gently on his left shoulder, then his right.
“Princess Emilie and…Fritz, do you swear your undying loyalty to me and the kingdom of Shanandoah?” Skya asked.
Emilie looked up. “What does that entail exactly? Shouldn’t I read the terms and conditions?”
“I don’t know,” Skya admitted. “We just kind of do this one for fun.”
“Then sure,” Emilie said. “I swear. So does Fritz. I think. That might not hold up in court, though.”
“Rise, Princess Emilie!” Skya ordered.
Emilie came to her feet and into her sister’s arms. “Now you’re my princess.”
After the giving of gifts, there was only one thing left to do.
Party. The entire kingdom celebrated with singing and dancing and feasting and drinking and general madcap revelry long into the night. They all joined in—Rafe and Jeremy, Emilie and Skya, even the horses, Freddy and Sunny, who wore pink and gold ribbons in their manes.
While Emilie and Jeremy were sharing a dance, Rafe found Skya standing behind her throne, watching the scene before her with a smile on her face.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Skya said.
“That question also feels like a test,” Rafe replied.
Skya laughed. “Dance with me, my prince.”
“I’m a terrible dancer.”
“I remember. But we’ll try it anyway.”
Like two nervous kids at homecoming, they put their arms around each other and swayed together.
“Aurora tells me you still haven’t opened your book. Care to tell me what’s stopping you?”
“Not really,” he said, but since she was the queen, he told her anyway. “Every day I think this is the day, but then I don’t. I’m happy here. Scared to risk that.”
“You don’t want to hate your father?”
Rafe took a breath, swallowed the sudden knot in his throat.
“I don’t want to hate my mom.”
Understanding dawned in Skya’s dove-gray eyes, so like Emilie’s.
“Oh, my prince.”
“Dad said if I remembered everything, it would poison me against Mom. What if she knew and didn’t do anything?”
She took his hand and led him away from the celebration into an empty corridor behind the throne room. With a sigh of relief, she shed her crown and set it on the head of a suit of armor. Then, under the light of a torch, she pulled back her sleeve and showed him her right arm. It was covered in faint white scars.
“Skya.”
He ran his fingers up a jagged patch of pale white scar tissue that wound from her wrist halfway up her arm.
“Got these trying to get out of that guy’s car trunk.”
“I wish that never—”
“I know.” She smiled softly at him. “You told me and only me what your father did to you. You told me because I showed you my scars first and told you how I got them. And I kept your secret, even from Jeremy, because I know what it’s like to not want to talk about your scars.”
