An excerpt from the diary of Princess Oona Talomir.

Dear Diary,

Another day has passed, and still I am no closer to understanding what I am supposed to do in order to end this damnable war. I fear I am not as everyone believes me to be, and to have them all hanging their hopes upon my crown is a weight I am surely incapable of bearing. I dare not venture a guess as to what manner of alchemical concoction the seers must have inhaled in order to predict I would matter in this conflict.

Father has kept me shut up in this castle for years now. I barely remember what the city outside is like. Assassins, he says. Always, talk of assassins, yet not once have I seen anything. I’m sure he’s being overprotective… or maybe he knows about Kitlyn?

We passed again along the garden walk this afternoon. She looked so miserable, yet she refused to admit her unhappiness. I think she looked at me a certain way, but I cannot be sure. Oh, the price of assumption would be great if she shares not my feelings.

Lucen demands purity, yet I feel nothing purer than my love for her… but it is against the teachings. I know the priests have misinterpreted the will of the gods, yet dare I risk confessing to her? The plea in her eyes may well be only sorrow at the horrible way Fauhurst treats her, and all the drudgery she must endure.

Oh, how I hate that man! He treats her like an animal, and he of middling birth! What nerve! Why does father refuse to hear me on the matter of her station?

I must tell her. It is cruel to my heart to keep such a thing inside, yet if I am mistaken, she would regard me as an abomination. My closest friend, my love, would recoil in disgust. The mere thought of her face in that moment drives me to tears. Damn this war, and damn the seers, and damn Evermoor and all their savages!

Tonight, I shall visit the temple and beseech Lucen for wisdom. I shall ask him to free me of this burdensome crown. I know it is impossible, but I long to return to the days of our youth, when we had been left to ourselves and I could spend all day with her. Before that wretch Fauhurst fell upon her like a plague of tedium and drudgery. I shall have him reduced to a groundskeeper! Hah! To see the look on his face.

If only I am to live up to the Foretelling, but I do not see how. I would end the war, if only to be able to confess my love. Perhaps I shall at that. This silence is more terrible than death. I am a coward. In front of Lucen, I am a coward unworthy of this crown if I cannot tell her how I feel.

I will tell her. And if Kitlyn can no longer bear to be in my presence after that, I shall have nothing left to fear, and nothing left at all. And so shall come to pass the Foretelling. I will lead the forces of Lucernia to victory, and find solace in death.