Alya spotted the prince as she walked in. He was almost a statue the way he leaned against the window, his head on his arms and his eyes locked outside.

He store at her as she walked in.

“Can you tell?” he said slowly.

“You’re admiring the view?”

“No, one of my lords told me they saw my beloved. She was with another man!” His arms outstretched, “Some tall bloke who looked like a tree! I’m not sure whether I can even believe it.”

The princess crossed her arms and rested the wall. “So here you are, with your fiancé, talking about your secret lover? We have quite a ‘liberal’ courting my prince.”

He could not help but smile to that. For a moment his worries seemed to disappear. “You are right” he admitted, “My apologies.”

She could have cancelled it then, this marriage that neither wanted. Political or not, she was tricked into it. While the prince obviously had his own ‘love’, a love which had run off with some tree-man… her mind clicked. In her head there was a spark. A memory. Tree man, she had heard that before, and with a woman.

“Was this ‘love’ of yours short?” she asked.

The prince quirked, “Well yes.”

“Locks of barley?”

“Yes.”

Alya smiled, the pieces of a puzzle coming together, “I might know where she is, or rather where she is going.”

Menska lit alive, no longer the statue which stared, “Where? Where is she?”

“She is headed towards my homeland.” Answered Alya. “And before you say you want to go after her, I am coming with you.”

The prince shook his head, “I cannot abandon my people.”

Alya stood up, “Oh, that you are not. Why, you are merely courting me. What is more promising than a retreat to the courted’s homeland. If anything your people will consider it a solution to your… condition.”

Menska paced between the window to his throne. The number of his steps evident of his thoughts. He stopped halfway on his return from the throne, “Why do you want to go?”

Alya could have lied, she could have played the game her mother normally started. The chess of politics lay engrained in her head ever since she was a child, and she knew every move. But this wasn’t politics. This was family.

“My Brother is with her.”

--

Come noon the news had already spread. First a select few nobles knew and of course they gossiped. The news quickly caught on to the few Ilivari escorts left behind. Then to the councilmen and finally to the people.

Even the fishermen knew. Yet, the public approved, the union was promising. Romantic even, to some royalists. Connections to the largest Empire this side of the Holyland? It was a blessing.

A blessing not all consented to. There was man who had heard last. Even with his hands in every part of the country he had let the key piece slip away. He had failed. The jester stomped up towards the royal chambers, of all the people, he was the last to find out. He pushed open the doors without restraint. Twitching once as the rumors came to fruition. He had held the prince in check for twenty years, not once, ONCE, losing sight of him. Until now.

By the time the jester had found out, the ‘happy’ couple had already left the capitol. Taking a hand full of sailors and an Ilvarin ship with them.