Green Lady Preview

Wulfram had never learned how to do this. He’d grown up in a plain chateau, with predictable wealth,
funded by peasant taxes; his predictable parents had sent him to foster with the king, as tradition dictated.
He earned himself an education and just the kind of skill with a sword that was anticipated for a man of his
station. The very thought that he’d fallen in love with a princess was laughable; of course she’d marry a
prince. No matter her rebellious nature or her strange habits. People assumed such habits would cease
when she was no longer a girl.
Well, Wulfram could see she was no longer a girl. He gazed at her from across the courtyard and
caught her eye. She was a forest maiden, dressed in simple linen. She filled him with evening breath, a fresh,
secret breeze on his cheek. Her hair gleamed golden in the fading sunlight, and she smiled at him with
nymph eyes and a tiny mischief nick at the corner of her mouth. She was still for a moment, caught in his
stare, and then she broke through the crowd to meet him.
“Wulfram!”
“Welcome home, love!” He held out his arms, and when she embraced him, he spun her in a wide
circle.
“I missed you, Wulf.” She kissed him on the forehead, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, she
raced off to greet Friedrich. Wulfram was left with a mouthful of words he couldn't say. He watched her
disappear into the fold of her brother's strong embrace.
Now they moved, the crowd walking as a single entity, drawn by the prospect of food and eminence. It
wasn't often they saw the princess anymore. Wulfram allowed the bustle of satin to shepherd him down the
paved path and through the keep's large doors. He listened to the clack of heels on cobblestone, the chafe
of billow-skirts pressing together, and hundreds of voices—every voice but hers.
A small hand surprised his shoulder. “Don’t disappear on me. Why, it wouldn't be a feast without you.”
A slow smile spread across his lips as her small fingers slipped into his hand. His heart turned into a
hummingbird within his rib cage—frantic, beating against its confines—
And if I ask her to marry me, what will she say?
Friedrich walked ahead of them as they entered the dining hall. The place was dressed in lush tablecloth
and extravagant lights dancing with the trick of candle and glass, a dozen chandeliers in the ceiling, goblets
glimmering at every place setting, and wildflowers donning tables and chairs. All the walls were lined in
tapestry, depicting warm murals of their ancestry and the Great Hunts of legend. The air hummed with
anticipation.
Lord Mechanian approached the head of the table, kneeling before the king. “Your Majesty. Let me
present my niece, Nymuë, daughter of Vienne of the House of Lamlay.”
“Your Majesty.” Nymuë gave a deep curtsy, her eyes trained on the tablecloth.
“My Lady, you’re as beautiful as a spring lily. Welcome to Elodria.”