Chapter 1

The thunder of pounding boots reverberated in the cramped space Lydia had squeezed herself into. The thrum echoed around her and buried itself into her bones, making her heart stutter. The darkness of the enclosed space folded her in making her believe she could stay hidden. Except for the slice of light from the cabinet's edge, the blackness was complete.

Shouts ricochetted behind the closed doors, pieces of voices getting trapped inside with her. Her back ached from the awkward position and her legs were sore from being bent for so long. One foot had fallen asleep, but she couldn't move. Didn't dare fidget, afraid she would be heard and discovered.

Footsteps drew closer and she snapped her eyes shut, waiting, straining to detect if they were coming for her. If they had found her hiding spot. The very walls seemed to shake with the chaos outside like the cabinet was trembling in fear. The crash of something metal resounded against the floor and Lydia tensed, her shoulders rising to her ears.

As the clatter died away, she let herself ease. Then something stopped outside her hiding spot, blocking the edge of the light. Complete darkness swallowed her and she sucked in a breath. Her heart hammered in her chest, the thudding of it so loud she knew whoever waited on the other side must be able to hear it.

Like a crack of lightning, the doors were wrenched open and light shattered the blackness.

With a squeak, Lydia tumbled from the interior and rolled over the hard ground. A spike of pain shot through her elbow on impact. When she came to a stop, she was on her back, staring up at a curved sandstone ceiling.

A resigned sigh escaped her lips, knowing her freedom was gone. She squinted against the brightness. As her eyes adjusted, a figure leaned over her, outlined by the light.

"Hiding again, Ly?" the figure asked.

The face came into focus. It was a boy in his seventeenth year with sand-colored hair, tan skin, crystal blue eyes, and a mouth that was curled into a knowing smirk. Scowling, Lydia raised herself to her elbows, wincing at the bruise forming on her skin.

"Of course I am," she said. "Have you looked around lately, Wilder? This place is a battlefield." A pause. "Also, Vienna was trying to find me."

Smile widening, Wilder lowered himself into a crouch. Like him, Lydia had the common West Isles tan skin, but that was the only commonality they shared. Her long, slightly curled hair was a dark red-gold color, like the sand when the setting sun hit it. The trait of the royal family. Her eyes were a rich seafoam green. Where he had a narrow face, her's was round ending in a pointed chin.

Wilder reached out and picked a crumb off of Lydia's loose shirt. Holding it up, he met her eyes.

"Not only did you hide without me, but you stole a cookie without me as well."

The scent of the demolished cookie still lingered on her. Lydia shrugged, the gesture awkward in her current position.

"I wasn't planning on starving in there." She listed her head to the side. "Also we both wouldn't have fit in that cabinet."

A mischievous glint entered Wilder's eyes. "We could have tried. It would have been fun figuring out what position worked."

Grinning as her face flushed, Lydia shoved his shoulder, but he barely budged. Off in the distance, there was a clang as someone knocked over a tray of silver. Lydia swiveled her head around, trying to find the source of the noise. What she found instead made her stomach knot. A man in his late forties with trim dark blonde hair wearing the uniform of the Captain of the Guard was striding for her. Her eyes widened.

"We need to go," she said, still staring at Captain Ror.

Wilder was already on his feet, reaching for her. Lydia grabbed his hand and he hauled her up. As Wilder took off running, she scampered after him, glancing back once.

"Princess Lydia!"

The shout chased after them as they ducked around a corner and sprinted away. Servants let out shocked gasps, flattening themselves against the walls to avoid collisions. The stone beneath Lydia's bare feet was smooth and cool to the touch. The texture of it was well known to her from years of running around without shoes. This one quirk of hers had often been the topic of annoyance for her older siblings. Reen had joked that she must have been an Eldin vagabond in a former life.

The pair dashed down a hallway that spit them out into the main foyer of the palace. Wilder skidded to a stop, Lydia barreling into him and nearly knocking him off his feet. Before she could make an ungraceful mess on the floor, he caught her around the waist.

Streaming through archways and up and down stairs was a current of servants all driven by the nearness of the night's events. A breeze fluttered the gauzy curtains and sailed inside, carrying with it the hint of the sea and the flowery scent of blossoming trees. For a breath, the two of them were rooted to the spot, like an island in a storm.

When a guard appeared from a corridor across the way, Lydia snagged Wilder's hand and pulled him in the opposite direction. The guard called to them, but they had no intention of stopping. Diving through an archway, they came to an abrupt halt again, this time Lydia the one to be the cause.

They were in the center ballroom. A flurry of servants were in the throes of final preparations. This was not what had stopped Lydia, it was the two stasis figures standing amidst the commotion. Corwin and Vienna turned upon hearing their younger sister's frantic entrance.

At the beginning of his twenty-fourth year, Corwin already looked like the king he would become. His reddish blonde hair was short and swept back, his handsome face clean shaven and his clothes tailored to his well-built frame.

Vienna, though only two years older than Lydia in her nineteenth year had the bearing of a queen. Her hair was pulled up, showcasing her delicate features and the slope of her neck. The pair were commanding standing side by side. In comparison, Lydia looked like a beggar plucked off the streets in her loose shirt and trousers.

When Vienna opened her mouth, Lydia twisted away and scrambled for the archway they had just come through. Her motion was too rushed and she slipped on the polished stone, one hand touching the floor before she got her balance and took off. Wilder was right beside her as they fled. Though he was a head taller than her, he kept his pace equal to hers, even when his long legs he could easily outdistance her.

They broke from the palace's boundaries and into the grounds that looked like a painters pallet with its vivid colors. Behind them, the symbol of the West Isles' monarchy rose five stories high and was crafted out of white stone, gold-domed roofs, balconies, and archways. From its perch on a hill, it could be admired by everyone. In return, the occupants could gaze out on the city. Beyond the layers of houses, shops, and taverns were the docks and then the expanse of the sea. The deep blue glistened under the sun. From so far away it looked like a sheet of tinted glass.

Lydia didn't spare a glance outward, it was a view she had grown up staring out. Instead, she raced along the path, making for the one place they would find safety. Heat rained down on them as they kicked up a cloud of sand in their wake. Thin trees with clusters of luscious fruit boarded the lane, tainting the air with their sweet scent.

On the far side of the palace grounds lay the soldiers' barracks. Without hesitating, Lydia darted inside and through the winding hallways. The place was empty as she had expected it to be. Everyone would be preparing for tonight.

When she finally stopped, they were at the building's center. It was a perfect circle that held a raised walkway ringed around a sand pit. From an opening above sunlight cascaded in, spotlight the miniature arena while the walkway was left in the shade.

Catching her breath, Lydia leaned against the railing that divided the two sections. Wilder rested against the wall, taking in deep breathes. They grinned at each other like they had gotten away with some daring feat. Pulse settling, Wilder walked over to a rack of wooden weapons and collected two training swords. He held one out to Lydia.

"I can barely stand from all the running," she whined, though she wasn't truly tired. It felt like half her life she had been running from one thing or another.

Wilder's jovial face took on a mocking serious expression, mirroring his father's strict countenance.

"A soldier should learn to fight even when exhausted, it shall teach him his limits as well as the depth of his hidden strength."

"I have no hidden strengths," Lydia said, leaning on the railing.

Wilder offered her an encouraging grin. "Sure you do, everyone does. Well, my father believes so."

Wilder prodded Lydia's arm with the swords handle.

"One last time," he said.

Though he spoke it with a quick smile, the words were a reminder. A reminder that Lydia had planned on ignoring until she couldn't anymore. Pushing the sad thoughts away, she took the sword and ducked beneath the railing, dropping down into the sand pit.

The grain was rough beneath her bare feet and hot from hours of bearing the weight of the sun's glare. It was a heat that she barely noticed. Wilder landed beside her, the sword already an extension of his hand.

His body that had been gangly only a year before had begun to morph one fit for a soldier. Where his had strengthened, Lydia's had softened with curves. Still, they fought together, Wilder giving poor attempts at teaching her what his father had been teaching him since he was little.

Testing the weight and feel, Wilder swung the sword from side to side. Lydia mimicked him. Though she was comfortable enough with the sword, she preferred knives. Her aim was better than Wilder's though his throw was better, his blades always traveling further and hitting harder than hers.

It was a fact that mattered little to her, it was all for fun. She would never need to use a sword or dagger, that's what guards were for. But if Wilder did it, Lydia had always been determined to try it as well. It had been that way since they were kids. One mischievous act followed by another.

"Are you ready?" Wilder asked.

Lydia nodded, finding her balance in the uneven sand. With one perfect step, Wilder came forward, swinging his sword in for the attack. Lydia blocked it and retaliated with a jab at his side. With a twist, he avoided the hit.

As they fought Wilder fell into a rhythm that Lydia could never match. It was as if he were made of water and flowed from one motion to the next. To add to Lydia's annoyance at his easy abilities, he corrected her mistakes.

Halfway through, Lydia was sweating and losing all focus with her growing irritation. Wilder added fuel to the flames by laughing at her obvious frustration. When he managed to dodge out of her strike and pat her head as he went, Lydia lost all sense of logic. She dropped her sword, ducked under his and tackled him. Laughing, Wilder collided with the sand, Lydia on top of him, pinning him down.

"Now I have the upper hand," she said, gratified that his sword and had been knocked from his hand.

Before Lydia could rub her victory in his face, he twisted, leveraged his weight and flipped her off him. A surprised squeak escaped Lydia's mouth as she hit the ground. Wilder leaned over her, their roles reversed.

"No, you don't," he said. "You tossed away your only weapon and source of leveling the field, leaving you in a weakened position."

"You sound like your father," Lydia said.

"Well, he is the Captain of the Guard for a reason. Also, it looks like I won. Again."

Lydia wiggled, trying to get free, feeling as she did the sand burying itself it her hair and clothes. Her efforts had no effect, Wilder's hands were holding down her arms and his knees kept her legs locked to the ground. The smile he gave her was smug and taunting. With an angry, defeated huff, Lydia stopped struggling, realizing it was futile.

"Fine, you win. Again," she said.

Wilder laughed, the sound as familiar to her as the tint of green in his eyes. When his laughter died down and she smiled up at him, something in the air changed. Changed between them. It was like a match had been struck, setting sparks crackling. Warmth rushed through them. Wilder shifted, releasing her, giving her the option of leaving.

When she didn't move, he swallowed, his eyes jumping to her lips then back to her eyes. At the intensity in his look, Lydia suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe. Her heart pummeled the inside of her ribs and she was scared it would break out altogether.

Wilder buried his hands in the sand by the side of her head, lowering his face down. His breath fanned over Lydia and her stomach flipped. As she reached for him, she closed her eyes, waiting, every inch of her buzzing. Her pulse was erratic.

As his lips brushed against hers, a sharp voice called out.

Lydia's eyes flew open and met the panicked expression of Wilder's. He jerked back, putting distance between them. Shaking from the rush of emotions that had just been coursing through her body, Lydia pushed herself up. From one of the openings, walked Wilder's father. Ror took in the scene below him with a calm that masked a shrewd military mind.

"Princess Vienna is asking for your presence in your chambers, Your Highness," he said.

Lydia nodded, not sure she would be able to talk, her throat choked from the chaos of thoughts. Her heart was still banging away and her face was flushed. It felt like her every emotion was written out on her skin. Ror's gaze moved to Wilder.

"I believe you still have preparations to attend to for tomorrow's travel," he said.

"Yes, sir," Wilder said, head bowed.

Wilder stood, brushing sand from his trousers and holding out a hand for Lydia. She accepted it. Their fingers lingered in each other's hold, as if afraid of what would become of them if they let go. But they did, knowing they must.

"You are truly leaving," Lydia said, knowing she would have to face this reality at some point.

Wilder gave a curt nod. "My true training will begin. I will simply be another soldier among others."

Lydia slipped her arm around his.

"Not to me," she whispered.

He led her to the edge of the pit and helped her up. Ror caught her hand and assisted her the rest of the way. The thumping of footsteps echoed through the building and a guard appeared. He saluted his commander.

"His Majesty requested you," the guard said.

Ror nodded and turned back to the rumpled pair.

"I trust you can find your way to where you should be?"

They both nodded and he left. With a small sigh, Lydia followed his path. As they walked back to the palace, the emotions that collided inside her began to settle. Even still she was overly aware of Wilder beside her, the brush of his arm against hers, the feel of his gaze as it flickered to and away from her.

As they were about to slip into the shadow of the palace, Lydia looked to the port. Among the rows of anchored ships was one that held the guest of honor for that night's ball, His Royal Highness Prince Zavier. With his arrival would come a new beginning and an end to the way life was. Though it was too far to see, she imagined that she could spot the Lorian flag waving in the wind. A part of her wished that tonight would not come, as if that could stop all the changes that it would bring. But it was a useless wish.

The journey to Lydia's quarters was a silent affair, both of them aware of the time slipping between their fingers. At her door, she spun back to Wilder.

"Will you be there tonight?" she asked.

He nodded once and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging grains of sand. The sight made Lydia wonder how she must look, hair snarled and clothes dusty. From around a corner, her brother Reen appeared. Four years her senior and second in line to the throne, he held himself with an air of authority but didn't have the rigid posture of Corwin. His hands were hidden away in his pockets and though his hair was short, it had an unruly curl to it. The effect of it gave him an almost boyish look. A teasing gleam came to his eyes when he surveyed Lydia.

"What did you do, fight the sand monsters?" he asked. His voice had a lightness to it that made you think a laugh was hiding not too far off.

Lydia blushed, remembering exactly how she had come to be in her current state of disarray. Though Reen noted the flush, he merely smiled without making a comment, as Corwin or Vienna would have.

"Do not worry," he said, "I am certain mother and Vienna will make sure you look presentable for tonight and a line of suitors will be within your grasp."

He waved his hand dramatically as he wandered off. A heavy stone fell into Lydia's stomach and no matter how deep she tried to breathe it wouldn't be moved. Wilder raised his eyes to her.

"A line of suitors," he said.

Lydia didn't know how to respond. There was nothing to say. Though both of them had always known that their paths would eventually diverge it felt too soon. Wilder held her gaze, a moment of true emotions edging through, a hint of sadness and something desperate. They were feelings Lydia felt mirrored in her heart.

But the moment passed and Wilder returned to himself. When the corner of his mouth quirked up, she let out a slow breath, drawing from his strength. A mischievous spark flared in his eyes and Lydia felt a twin flame stirring in her chest.

Without warning, he leaned in and kissed her, one hand cupping her cheek.

It was certain, strong like he had planned for that moment forever. Lydia held onto the front of his shirt, not wanting to ever let go. When he pulled away, it was too soon. Her nerves were humming as everything in her wanted more, to steal from what little time they had left.

"Don't forget me in your line of suitors," he said.

With a flash of his devilish smile, he left and Lydia had to let him go.

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Greetings!

This along with A Pirate's Tale are stories that are stand alone books but take place in Gigi's world and have hints of character's from her story. This one is set a lot later than Gigi's story. Zavier (named after Thayer's father) is Gigi's son.

What did you think?

Any ideas on where this story with go?

Who is completely and utterly shocked that for the first time my characters have kissed in the VERY FIRST CHAPTER!! 😱😮

So unlike me it's crazy!

I'm looking forward to writing this one cause it has a lot of twists and turns to it. Also Lydia is such a different character than either Gigi or Isla, her life has been easy and so it's about how she has to face some hard things in life.

Of course like all my first chapters I'm never quite sure when I will get to it! But I hope at least some of you will like it once I do!

Vote, comment, follow! How else are you suppose to know when I deliver more books!