The dress was laid out on her bed, pristine as always. Faris glared at it, wondering how long it would be before someone took the bloody hint that she wasn’t about to wear the thing.

“You don’t like it?”

She turned her head to find Reina staring at her, expression as serene as always.

“It belonged to mother,” she said, of the dress.

Well, that explained something of its persistent thorny presence in her life. But Faris wasn’t her mother, and the way everyone else behaved around the castle, she doubted her mother would have been much too proud of her, no matter what she was wearing.

“Do you... remember her at all?”

“Aye,” Faris answered. “I remember her fine. Not so much her wearin’ that.”

“If memory serves, she got it after you...” Reina trailed off, growing quiet. “After.”

Faris dropped into a chair, draping her legs, one of the other over its armrest. She stared at the ceiling. Here, she had an entire kingdom at her fingertips and she felt stifled, like a caged up bird with clipped wings.

“Is there anything I can do?” Reina asked.

Faris flicked her gaze towards her.

She didn’t mean to worry her, or anyone else.

She didn’t belong here.

The thought cut her like a knife. The raw honest truth.

Dragging herself back to her feet, Faris strode across the room to where her sister stood by the door. Taking Reina’s face in her hands, Faris kissed her forehead softly.

“I be fine, lass,” she assured her, “don’t ye trouble y’rself.”

Reina didn’t look convinced, but Faris flashed her a conniving smile. A few moments of quiet contemplation more, and the princess took her leave.

And so did Faris.

Stealing herself right out the bloody window.