The Princess Has Four Mates

Maerilee The dog treat trembles in my hand, faint pulses of magic swirling around it like threads of silver. I close my eyes, focusing on the barrier I’m trying to create. The energies stretch from my fingertips, encasing the treat in an invisible shield, or at least what I hope is an invisible shield. My breath slows as I concentrate, willing the magic to hold steady. A faint hum tickles the back of my mind. My magic is attempting to do what it’s supposed to but deep down, I can feel how weak it is, how flimsy the barrier must be. I open my eyes, my gaze flicking to my dog, Duchess, curled up in a ball on my bed. Her small body rises and falls softly as she sleeps, completely unaware of the challenge I’m facing. The barrier needs to be perfect. If I can’t even manage this, what hope do I have of fortifying the one protecting our kingdom? “Just focus, Maerilee,” I murmur to myself. My fingers flex, sending another ripple of energy through the shield. It looks solid enough, a faint shimmer around the treat. Suddenly, Duchess stirs. I glance up as her nose twitches, nostrils flaring as she catches the scent of the treat. My heart sinks. “No, no, no,” I whisper, watching as Duchess’s little black eyes blink open. She lifts her head, giving a lazy yawn before hopping off the bed. Her tiny paws pad across the floor as she heads straight for me, or rather, the treat in front of me. “Stay back, Duchess,” I warn softly, though I know it’s useless. I have something she wants and she’s determined to go after it. Her nose pokes at the invisible barrier, her little pink tongue darting out to taste the air. I sit up straighter, holding my breath. This is the moment. If the barrier holds, Duchess won’t be able to— She walks right through it. My jaw drops as she simply passes through the shimmering magic, the protective shield crumbling like dust. She doesn’t even notice the weak flicker of power. Before I can react, she snatches the treat in her mouth, tail wagging furiously, and trots off proudly. “Duchess!” I groan, collapsing onto the floor, defeated. She prances out of the room like she’s just conquered a mighty foe, while I sit here, a mess of frustration and failure. This is hopeless. I’ll never be able to help strengthen the kingdom’s barrier if I can’t even master a small barrier spell for a dog treat. As if on cue, someone knocks at my door. I sit up quickly, trying to compose myself, though I can still feel the sting of embarrassment heating my cheeks. The door opens slightly, and Akin steps into the room just as Duchess struts out, tail wagging with her prize. “Good to see Duchess is well-fed,” he comments with a grin, clearly amused at the scene. His dark eyes flick to me, concern immediately replacing the humor when he notices my posture, slumped on the floor. “I was practicing,” I mutter, sitting up straighter and brushing my hair out of my face. “It didn’t exactly go as planned.” Akin steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He looks down at me with that familiar, steady gaze, the one that never seems to waver, even when everything around us is falling apart. He’s always so sure of himself, always so capable. I feel a pang of jealousy in my chest before I can push it down. “You’ll get it,” he says, his voice low and reassuring. “But right now, your parents want to see you.” I nod, feeling a tight knot form in the pit of my stomach. “Now?” “Now,” he confirms with a solemn nod. “It sounded important.” Of course, it’s important. Everything is important these days. I stand up, dusting off my gown, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My long whitish hair, tinged with lavender, is slightly tangled, and my silver eyes seem a little dimmer than usual. I smooth my hair down with a sigh and follow Akin out of the room. As we walk through the palace halls, I can’t help but glance at him from the corner of my eye. He walks with such purpose, his tall, broad frame radiating strength. I’ve known Akin my whole life, but there’s always been this distance between us, one that feels more like a wall now than ever before. He’s my bodyguard, yes, but sometimes it feels like something more. Or maybe it’s just me. We reach the doors to my parents’ chamber, and Akin gives me a small nod before stepping back. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever they’re going to say. I push open the doors and step into the familiar warmth of the room. My mother, Queen Kimalissa, sits near the window, looking out over the kingdom. The soft light filtering in through the glass highlights the weariness in her face. Every day, the weight of the kingdom’s failing barrier seems to press harder on her, making her look more and more fragile. It breaks my heart to see her like this. My father, King Fratino, stands beside her, his tall frame tense, though he manages to offer me a small smile as I enter. His moon-touched skin glows faintly, a reminder of the power he holds. It’s a power that comes so naturally to him, unlike me. I don’t even know if I have a ‘One,’ let alone the ability to do what’s needed for our kingdom. “Maerilee,” my mother says, turning to face me with an expression that immediately makes my stomach drop. It’s the look she gives when she’s about to ask something of me that I’m not going to like. “Mother, Father,” I greet them with a small curtsy, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’ve been talking,” my father begins, glancing at my mother before continuing. “Given the current state of things, we’ve decided it’s time to take more decisive action in finding your One.” I blink, anxiety rippling through me. “Decisive action?” My mother sighs, walking toward me with a grace that belies her exhaustion. “We’ve sent out invitations to the surrounding kingdoms,” she says softly. “To all eligible noblemen.” My heart skips a beat, a mix of anger and embarrassment flaring up inside me. “Eligible for what?” “For you,” my father says bluntly, his voice firm. “We’re hosting a month-long ball, Maerilee. In the hopes of fostering peace, yes, but mainly to help you find your One.” The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I can’t speak. They’ve invited noblemen, strangers from rival kingdoms, to come here and parade themselves around, all in the hope that one of them might be my One? I feel a surge of frustration rising inside me, but I bite my tongue. I know why they’re doing this. I know how important it is but it still stings. Once again, I’m faced with my own failures. “I see,” I say, my voice tighter than I intended. “Maerilee, we understand how difficult this must be for you,” my mother says, her eyes pleading. “But the barrier is weakening every day, and we don’t have much time. If you find your One, if you can unlock the power that comes with it, you can help restore it.” I swallow hard, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I know she’s right. The barrier is crumbling, and with it, our kingdom’s protection. I can see it in the way my mother’s once-vibrant magic has dimmed, the way her strength seems to slip away a little more each day. If I don’t do something, if I don’t find my One, Altinna could fall to invasion. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “I understand,” I finally say, my voice quiet but steady. “I’ll do whatever is necessary.” My mother’s expression softens, relief flickering in her eyes. “Thank you, Maerilee. I know this isn’t easy.” “No, it’s not,” I admit, looking between her and my father. “But if this is what’s needed, I’ll attend the ball. I’ll meet these noblemen. I’ll try to find my One.” As the words leave my mouth, a strange mix of dread and determination settles over me. I’ve spent so long searching, waiting for some sign that I even have a One. But what if this ball changes nothing? What if none of these men are the one I’m supposed to bond with? What if I’m destined to fail? But I push those thoughts aside, forcing myself to focus on the task ahead. I have to try for Altinna. I’ll find my One. I have to. As I turn to leave the room, my mother’s voice stops me. “Maerilee,” she says softly. “No matter what happens, we’re proud of you.” I nod, unable to trust myself to speak. Akin is waiting just outside, his expression unreadable as he watches me approach. He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t need to. He already knows. “Let’s go,” I say quietly, embarrassment flooding me. “I’d very much like to be alone now.”