I give her a small smile. “I invited you to come with my family years ago. Do you remember?”
She nods, but her enthusiasm dims. “It was too soon.”
Marigold had lost her family only a year before the invitation. I had hoped traveling would help her forget, but instead, she stayed in the comfort of the castle library.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask her gently.
I whistle to a bird watching us from one of the trees. Eagerly, it swoops down to me. I hold out a finger, and it lands, its little feet tickling me.
“An azure monakeet.” Marigold looks at the bird longingly. “I left my sketch pad in the cart.”
The little bird stretches his wings as if he is showing off his brilliant blue plumage and scarlet tail.
Danver lies across Rosie’s lap in the cart, watching the bird with avid interest. His ears twitch, and his eyes are focused. Luckily for the bird, Danver isn’t close enough to attack.
I give the monakeet a boost into the air as we arrive at the front gates. “Go on now.”
Two guards stand at attention, and when they see the princes, they call for the gates to be opened. A trumpet sounds, announcing Bran and Dristan’s arrival, and we ride into a circular courtyard.
I gape at the fountain in the front entry. A stone artisan has carved the likeness of a mermaid on a rock, with two dolphins jumping next to her. The fountain sprays into the air, and the mermaid tilts her head up in laughter, holding her hand out to the falling water.
“Have you been to Castle Calland?” Dristan asks, riding next to me.
“No, my father has only taken me to the ports.”
“The festival takes place by the eastern port.” Dristan points toward the ocean. “The tents are already being set up.”
From the courtyard balcony that overlooks the city, Isee several brightly colored tents but only a few caravan carts.
Dristan looks back at me. “It will still be several days before they’ve all arrived.”
Grooms meet us, and they whisk our horses away. One man frowns at Bran and Dristan’s mounts. “What has happened to your Altiers?
Dristan shoots Irving a look. “They were stolen at an inn in Glendon.”
“Errintonians?” the groom asks.
“It was more of a personal squabble,” Bran answers.
The groom asks no more, but before he leaves, Bran stops him and motions to me. “Lady Anwen has a pet with special requirements. I will need you to tend to it.”
“Of course.” The groom gives me an easy smile. “Where is your animal?”
I glance at Bran, unsure how to proceed.
“In the caravan cart,” Bran answers.
The man strides to the cart, climbs the steps, and opens the door wide before swiftly slamming it shut. “What is that?”
Bran chuckles. “It’s a glasseln—but don’t worry. She is tame.”
The man goes pale, and he almost looks as if he’s swallowed his tongue.
Bran only smiles. “She’s quite docile on a lead now. I believe if you keep her well fed, you won’t have any trouble with her.”
“Where will we keep her?” the groom asks.
Bran glances at Dristan, and they both appear to be at a loss.
