Aria's POV
The knife slipped.
I watched blood bloom across my thumb, bright red against the pale dough. For three seconds, I just stared at it. Then I laughed.
Not because it was funny. But because if I didn't laugh, I'd cry, and I'd already cried enough this week.
"Aria?" Finn's voice came from the corner, weak and scratchy. "You okay?"
"Perfect," I lied, wrapping my thumb in my apron. The fabric was already stained with flour and yesterday's soup. One more stain wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered when you had nothing left to lose.
I looked at the dough on our crooked table. It was supposed to be bread for ten families. But I only had enough flour for maybe three loaves. The math didn't work. It never worked anymore.
Finn coughed—that terrible, wet sound that kept me awake at night. He was fourteen but looked ten, all bones and pale skin. The sickness in his lungs was eating him alive, and I couldn't afford the medicine that would save him.
"Did you take your herbs?" I asked, kneading the dough harder than necessary.
"Yeah." He coughed again. "They don't help much."
I knew. The village healer, old Marta, had pulled me aside last week. "The herbs aren't enough anymore, child. He needs real medicine from the capital. The kind that costs more than your cottage is worth."
I'd smiled at her. Thanked her. Then walked home and punched a tree until my knuckles bled.
"Aria, you're doing it again," Finn said softly.
"Doing what?"
"Smiling when you're sad. Your eyes get all weird."
I turned to him, forcing my smile wider. "I'm not sad. I'm happy. We have flour, don't we? We have a roof. We have each other."
"We have half a roof," Finn corrected, pointing at the corner where rain dripped through the broken thatch. "And that flour you're using? That's supposed to last us two weeks. You're giving it all away again."
He knew me too well.
"The Widow Chen has four kids," I said, shaping the dough into rounds. "And the Miller family just lost their cow. They need it more than—"
"We need it!" Finn's voice cracked. "Aria, we're starving too! When's the last time you ate a full meal?"
Tuesday. No, Monday. Or was it last week?
I opened my mouth to argue, but someone banged on our door—three hard knocks that made the whole cottage shake.
Finn and I looked at each other. Nobody knocked like that unless it was bad news.
I wiped my hands and opened the door.
Old Thomas stood there, the village elder, and his face was white as snow. Behind him, I could see half the village gathered in the square, all of them staring at our cottage.
"Thomas?" My heart started pounding. "What's wrong? Are the bandits back?"
"Worse." His voice shook. "Much worse."
He held up a rolled parchment with a red wax seal—the king's seal.
My stomach dropped.
"The Royal Decree came this morning," Thomas said, and I'd never seen him look so scared. "They're invoking the Treaty of Light."
I blinked. "The what?"
"The ancient law. When the kingdom falls into darkness, when the ruler's heart grows cold, they summon a Companion of Joy." He thrust the parchment at me. "Someone to teach the prince to smile again."
I stared at him. "That's... that's just an old story. That's not real."
"It's real." Thomas unrolled the parchment, and I saw my name written in elegant script. "And they've chosen you."
The world tilted.
"No," I whispered. "No, there's a mistake. I'm nobody. I'm just—"
"You're the girl who laughs when everything is falling apart," Thomas said. "You're the one who brings light to this dying village. They heard about you, Aria. Someone told them about the girl who still smiles in Sunhaven."
Behind him, I saw faces. Widow Chen. The Miller family. Children I'd given bread to. They all looked hopeful. Relieved.
Because if I went to the palace, the village would be saved.
If I refused, we'd all be abandoned.
"What happens if I go?" I asked, my voice barely working.
"You spend one season teaching Prince Kael to smile. If you succeed, Sunhaven gets royal protection, food, resources. Everything we need." Thomas's hands were shaking. "If you fail..."
"We're destroyed," I finished.
He nodded.
I looked back at Finn. He was standing now, gripping the wall for support, his eyes huge.
"How long is a season?" I asked.
"Three months."
Three months away from Finn. Three months trying to make a prince smile when I could barely keep myself from breaking.
But if I succeeded, Finn would get medicine. Real medicine. He could live.
"When do I leave?" I heard myself say.
"Tomorrow morning." Thomas looked like he might cry. "I'm sorry, child. I'm so sorry. But you're the only hope we have."
I nodded, feeling numb. "Okay. Tell them okay."
Thomas left. The villagers dispersed, whispering. And I closed the door and leaned against it, my legs shaking.
"Aria?" Finn's voice was small. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do." I turned to him and smiled—a real smile this time. "You're going to get better. And when I come back, we're going to have a real roof and real food and everything will be okay."
"But what if it's not?" Finn whispered. "What if the prince is as terrible as they say? What if he—"
A knock interrupted him.
I opened the door again.
A royal messenger stood there in perfect uniform, his face blank. Behind him, a black carriage waited, pulled by four horses.
"Miss Sunfield," he said. "Change of plans. His Majesty requires your presence immediately."
My mouth went dry. "You said tomorrow."
"That was before." His eyes flickered to something behind me, then back. "There's been an incident at the palace. The prince is... unstable. You need to come now."
"Now? But I haven't packed, I haven't said goodbye—"
"Now," he repeated, harder. "Or the treaty is void, and your village loses everything."
I looked back at Finn. His face was terrified.
I thought I had one more night. One more night to prepare, to be brave, to pretend everything would be okay.
But I didn't.
"Give me five minutes," I said.
The messenger shook his head. "You have two."
And that's when I noticed something that made my blood turn to ice.
There was blood on his uniform.
Fresh blood.
"What happened at the palace?" I demanded.
The messenger's expression didn't change. "That's not your concern. Get in the carriage, Miss Sunfield. Before something worse happens."
He turned and walked away, leaving the door open, the black carriage waiting like a mouth ready to swallow me whole.
Finn grabbed my hand. "Don't go. Aria, please, something's wrong—"
But we both knew I had no choice.
I hugged him tight, memorizing the feel of his thin arms around me, the smell of herbs and sickness and home.
"I love you," I whispered. "I'll come back. I promise."
I pulled away before I could change my mind.
I walked toward the carriage.
And as I climbed inside, I saw something that made my heart stop.
Sitting in the shadows across from me was a woman in a dark cloak, her face hidden.
"Welcome, Lightbringer," she said in a voice like winter wind. "I've been waiting for you."
The door slammed shut.
The carriage lurched forward.
And through the window, I watched my brother disappear into the distance, screaming my name.