I had waited years for this moment, and when it finally arrived, something felt wrong. Deeply wrong. As though I were meant to be somewhere else—anywhere other than seated upon a throne, watching servants labor on my behalf. I could not bear to look at them. My head ached, my thoughts blurred, and an uneasy truth settled in my chest: something was not as it should be.

Two weeks earlier…

“Miss Catrina! I have news,” Samantha exclaimed as she helped me dress. “I think you’re finally ready to be a queen!”

We were preparing for a formal dinner at Larsond Castle, the home of my betrothed. Samantha had been assisting with my lessons alongside Lady Vesper—undoubtedly the harshest tutor imaginable. Yet as a princess, and soon a queen, I was never permitted to voice such thoughts. My mother had taught me that kindness must be shown even to those who offer none in return.

My mother was a pillar of our country, always searching for better ways to serve our people. My parents were growing older, and ruling as king and queen had become increasingly dangerous at their age. They decided that within a few years, the crown would pass to me. To prepare, they sent me away by ship to study under Lady Vesper.

At first, I was hopeful—until I realized I would not be allowed to visit my family.

Most of my days were spent nursing bruised hands, the result of Lady Vesper’s switch. She believed me unworthy of the crown, accusing me of being rude, childish, and undeserving of queenship. Still, I forgave her every day. And now, at last, I was returning home.

My grandparents would be there, along with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and the entire court of Larsond Castle.

That evening, Samantha and I attended dinner at the castle, where I met my betrothed for the first time. He was far more handsome than I had imagined—his eyes a striking blue, his hair brown with soft blond highlights, and his manner genuinely kind. We could hardly look away from one another.

After dinner, he approached me, and we spoke at length. He told me how much he enjoyed games and how eager he was to meet my family. He even mentioned staying several days after my crowning so we could better know one another. Hours passed unnoticed—until Lady Vesper arrived.

Without warning, she seized my arm and dragged me away, not even allowing me to bid farewell to my future parents-in-law.

Outside, Samantha was forced to walk beside the carriage Lady Vesper had brought—a massive vehicle large enough to hold ten people. When I protested, Lady Vesper coldly replied, “Samantha has not earned the right to sit with us. And if I may be honest, I do not believe you have either.”

I longed to snap back, but I knew that doing so would only bring deep embarrassment upon my family. Instead, I turned away, unable—and unwilling—to look at her. Upon our return to Lady Vesper’s estate, I guided my weakened friend to her chambers. Samantha’s feet were bleeding, and I summoned another maid to tend to her before retiring to my own room.

When I entered my chambers, Lady Vesper was perched on the very edge of my bed, as though touching anything that belonged to me disgusted her.

“Good evening, Lady Vesper. May I assist you?” I asked, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

She grunted and rose, striding toward me with her switch clenched tightly in her hand.

“Where is your servant?” she snapped. “She should be with you!”

“You forced her to walk for an hour without rest,” I replied evenly. “Her feet are bleeding. Is it truly unacceptable for your future queen to order her maid to seek healing?”

Lady Vesper opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“You may have passed your trials and earned scores impressive enough to please your parents and secure your return,” she said coldly, “but I would not be proud. I would not even wish to see you. If you were my daughter—”

“If you were my mother,” I cut in sharply, “I would have left with joy. I doubt I would ever wish to see you again.”

Lady Vesper twitched. Her mouth opened and closed, as though words pressed against her tongue yet refused to emerge.

“Miss Catrina—”

“You may address me as Your Highness, Vesper,” I snapped.

She stiffened, then corrected herself. “Your Highness. Your ship will be prepared to depart at twelve tomorrow. Good night.”

With that, she stormed out of the room. I held my head high until the door slammed shut—only then did my shoulders sag as the weight of the moment finally settled in.

I got dressed by myself for the first time in two years. Samantha had been helping me since my arrival. It felt strange not to have her share stories about her life before meeting Lady Vesper, as they were quite intriguing.

I lay in bed for hours unable to sleep, too rowdy and excited. I'd finally see my parents. I finally dozed off, and morning arrived quickly. Sunlight peeked through my window curtain. I jumped out of bed, and Samantha was waiting for me. She smiled, but deep down, I knew she was hurting. "Catrina, I can't begin to express how much I've enjoyed having someone close to my age around. You've become one of my best friends. It's been a pleasure, your highness." She curtsied, and I nodded. Tears welled in our eyes as we embraced in a hug.

Lady Vesper and I rode to the docks, where I would soon board the enormous ship anchored there. It smelled of rotten fish and eggs, and while Lady Vesper covered her mouth and nose, I reveled in the open air. Being confined to a stuffy mansion had been quite tiresome. As I boarded, Lady Vesper waved goodbye and turned to leave. Then, the ship began to move. A sign that I was finally going home!

The ship had been built to impress her.

Its white hull caught the sun like a blade, and the banners at its mast—her banners, though she still thought of them as her parents’—snapped crisply in the wind. Every morning the sailors bowed. Every evening the officers dined below deck and spoke in careful tones, as if she were already wearing a crown that could bruise them if they stood too close.

The princess accepted it all without question. She had always been good at that.

She stood at the rail most days, watching the water darken as they traveled farther from the outer islands and closer to the mainland. Home. The word felt warm and unreal. Home meant marble halls and long corridors that smelled faintly of beeswax and old books. Home meant her mother’s voice, sharp and musical, correcting her posture. Home meant her father’s silence, which somehow always carried approval.

She was going home to be coronated. That much she knew.

The night before they reached port, the sea went strangely calm. The wind fell away, and the sails slackened, and the ship drifted as though reluctant to finish the journey. She stayed awake long after her attendants had withdrawn, sitting alone in her cabin with a single lamp burning.

There was a knock.

Not the light, deferential knock she was used to, but something hesitant. Careful.

It was the ship’s steward who entered, a thin man with hands that shook despite his efforts to still them. He did not bow. That, more than anything, made her uneasy.

“Your Highness,” he said, and stopped.

She smiled at him to put him at ease. “Is something wrong?”

He swallowed. “There is… information you must have before we dock.”

He did not use poetry or euphemism. He spoke plainly, as one does when afraid of being misunderstood. Her parents had died months ago. Illness, sudden, swift. The council had delayed the announcement, delayed everything, until she could be brought home. Until the line of succession could be secured.

She listened politely. She even thanked him when he finished.

Only after he left did the world begin to tilt.

Her parents were dead.

How could that be true when she had spent the entire voyage imagining their faces waiting at the harbor? When she had practiced her speech with her mother’s corrections echoing in her head? When she had fallen asleep each night comforted by the certainty that they were alive somewhere behind her, holding the kingdom together until she returned?

She pressed her hands flat against the table, as though the wood might steady her thoughts.

The coronation.

She had known she would be crowned upon her return. She had accepted it as one accepts rain or sunrise—an event, not a consequence. Only now did the logic assert itself, cruel and obvious.

Coronations did not happen in the presence of living kings and queens, not under a hereditary monarchy such as this.

If she were to be crowned, then her parents must already have been gone.

Which meant that for weeks—months—she had been living inside an impossibility.

The realization hollowed her out.

What else had she failed to understand? What other truths had stood in plain sight while she smiled and nodded and imagined herself wise? She had thought herself educated, observant, prepared to rule.

She laughed once, softly, then stopped, frightened by the sound. Maybe Vesper was correct. She was too naïve, too childlike, unworthy of queenship that had now been thrust upon her by the cruelty of fate's hand.

If she could be this wrong about something so fundamental, what did she truly know? Was the sea as deep as she believed? Were the stars the same ones her tutors had named? Had her parents ever been proud of her—or was that, too, a comforting story she told herself?

She sat very still and tried to rebuild the world from its smallest pieces.

She was expected to rule not because the world was kind or sensible, but because it was not.

When the bells rang from the harbor and the city came into view, she stood at last. Her reflection in the mirror looked younger than she felt, but steadier than she expected.

Perhaps wisdom, she thought, was not knowing everything.

Perhaps it was learning how to live after discovering just how much you had misunderstood.