"You must be the only prince in history to return from their six month tour without a bride." Bres's mother scowled and speared her roast potato with her fork. As far as Bres was aware, the potato hadn't done anything to merit such an attack - it was posing as a substitute for him.

Wind rattled the shutters and rain pounded the castle roof. Bres shivered, relieved he was inside with a roaring fire - and at the opposite end of the grand, eight metre dining table to his mother.

"What was wrong with them?"

Bres knew she really wanted to ask what was wrong with him. He shook his head.

"They were all so..." He trailed off, struggling to put into words - words his mother would understand - why he hadn't returned from his tour with any of the doll-like princesses paraded before him during his months away, each an exemplar of feminine beauty and charm.

"Attractive? Elegant? Wealthy?" His mother looked ready to tear her carefully arranged brown curls from her head. "What happened at Princess Charmaine's balls? I sent you in your very best tux!"

Bres tried not to snort. "Princess Charmaine only had eyes for a mysterious dancer who vanished every night at midnight and turned out to be a serving boy. No one else at those balls stood a chance."

"And Princess Erica? I heard she's just got engaged to a boy who's half fish! Surely you could have won her if you'd tried."

Bres sighed and didn't bother to reply. In his entire time away from the castle, only one person had made Bres's heart stutter when they entered the room. One person engaged him in such vibrant, lively conversation that he knew he could speak to them for a lifetime and never grow bored. One person had occupied his every thought since he returned to the dark, empty walls of his home. And there was only one person he'd pushed away.

"They weren't right for me," he told his mother instead. The truth was pointless. "I'm only nineteen! I want to fall in love before I marry. I want-"

"Princes don't have the luxury of wanting." His mother's glare could have frozen the rain outside to ice. "Your kingdom needs you to step up and rule. Your kingdom needs you to marry."

Bres was saved by a knock at the dining room door.

"What is it?" His mother snapped at the footman who entered with a nervous bow.

"Travellers," the boy stammered. He looked younger than Bres, and must have been new from the quaking in his knees as he addressed the stone tiles two metres in front of them. "At the door."

"Well, turn them away." The queen rolled her eyes.

"They... They claim to be royalty, Your Majesty. A prince and princess. Lost in the storm. They're asking for shelter."

"A princess?" His mother's eyes gleamed. "In that case, send them in."

The shaking footman retreated.

The queen grinned triumphantly. "It appears the fates have seen fit to send a princess to our doorstep, since you were so inept at finding one yourself."

Bres's insides swirled. This was the last thing he needed. With his mother overseeing his every action, he'd be unlikely to make it through desert without a fiancée.

"How do we know she's even a princess? They could be claiming royal heritage to gain shelter. She could be a pig farmer!"

His mother let out a very un-royal snort. "At this point, so long as she turns up with a crown on her head I couldn't care less if she truly was a pig farmer. The kingdom won't either. They want to see you wed. They want to know their future is in safe hands."

Bres still didn't understand why having a wife would make his hands any safer than they were now. He was fairly certain he'd make a terrible king regardless of whether he married or not. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just wasn't very good at politics or planning. He wanted everyone to get along and be happy - not argue through weeks of long, tedious meetings over the precise location of a boundary line.

He'd rather be on a deserted island far away with the love he'd let slip through his fingers. He pushed the thought away as the footman opened the door and bowed grandly.

"Presenting Princess Nianna and Prince Miro, from the Kingdom of Prelia."

Bres and his mother rose as two figures stepped forwards, puddles of water trailing behind them. Bres only had eyes for one.

His blond hair was a little longer than the last time they'd seen each other, though it had been just as wet then too. They'd been sitting under the ancient oak tree in his father's crystal palace after a midnight swim in the glittering silver lake. Unlike tonight, the skies had been clear and bright with starlight, as if the heavens were putting on a light show just for them. His sea blue eyes had contained as much shock then as they did now, open so wide his eyebrows vanished into the wilds of his hair.

Bres swallowed. Looked down. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't marry Princess Nianna. 

Not when he'd spent the better part of two months locked in her brother's embrace.

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, no doubt spreading a fuchsia blush across his face. This was horrible.

The last words he'd said to Miro echoed on repeat inside his brain as he stared determinedly at the floor. "This has to end. I can't be with you."

Bres couldn't look Miro in the eye, couldn't risk seeing the same look of hurt and confusion he'd worn when Bres left him beneath the oak tree.

"Princess Nianna, Prince Miro. Welcome to our home." His mother surveyed their guests with a broad smile.

There was an awkward pause, then Nianna replied. "Thank you for opening your doors to us on such an inhospitable night."

Bres risked looking up. Miro was staring at him, slack jawed. His body was rotated slightly towards the door, as if he was considering fleeing the room. After another too-long pause, Miro added a mumbled "thanks" to his sister's greeting. This was excruciating. Everyone would be able to tell there was something between them. Everyone would know Bres's secret. Everyone-

"It is the least we can do. We are pleased we can be of service." His mother cleared her throat and glared at him.

"Yes..." he stammered "Home to our welcome - I mean, comfortable... ah... um..." Bres looked back down at the ground, aware his entire face was now scarlet.

"Please," his mother said, in a dangerously strained voice that told Bres she was trying not to shout at him. "Take a seat, I will get some food sent in for you."

Nianna and Miro sat next to each other at the table. Bres sunk back into his chair, unsure whether he was relieved or distraught Miro had sat on his sister's other side, hidden behind her long silver hair. From the other end of the table, Bres watched his mother eyeing Nianna appreciatively.

"Please," she said as two servants whisked into the room with fresh plates of food. "Tell us how you came to be out on a night like tonight, and so far from home."

Nianna looked to Miro, who was staring at his food as though expecting it to speak for him. When it became clear he wasn't going to answer, she said, "We were touring the southern kingdoms. Miro..." she glanced fleetingly at her brother then back to her food. "Miro needed a change of scenery and I was keen to see more of the world."

Bres's heart threatened to stop in his chest. Miro needed a change of scenery? Had he been so desperate to get away from the place that contained the best and worst memories of Bres's entire life?

"A few miles from here, a hart startled the horses pulling our coach. One broke free and ran off. The coach wheel became stuck in a ditch and the entire thing toppled over - we only just jumped out in time. My brother and the coach driver were unable to right the carriage between them. So our driver took the remaining horse to return to the last village we passed through for assistance.

"He told us to wait for him to return with help, but the rain became harder, the winds picked up... We decided it would be safer to seek shelter." She shivered, still feeling the effects of the storm outside.

"A wise decision. Please stay with us until you are able to continue on your journey. We have plenty of food and warm rooms to spare. But you mustn't sit there shivering! Bres, I'm sure you would like you fetch dry clothes and blankets for our guests?" She gave Bres a pointed look.

"Oh, yes... Of course..." At least leaving the room would give him time to compose himself. To his surprise, his mother rose too and escorted him out with a tight smile.

Once they were on the other side of the door she wheeled on him. "Breslin," she only resorted to his birth name when she was dangerously angry. "Listen to me carefully. When you informed me you were returning home without a bride, I wrote to the Southern Fae for advice."

Bres reeled. If his mother had asked for assistance, she must be really worried. If only she knew the truth... 

The Southern Fae were a kind, benevolent race. Some called them fairy godparents, as they were known to look after certain mortals and grant wishes to those in need. Queens trying to auction of their sons to the most fertile-bidder didn't normally top their list of the most needy though, so there had to be a catch.

"This arrived just after breakfast." From the pocket of her indigo dress she pulled a small green object.

"A pea?" Bres's brow creased in confusion. "Are you sure it didn't fall onto the floor after dinner last night?" Why would the fae send his mother a pea?

She rolled her eyes, as if he was the ridiculous one. "This isn't leftovers! This is a magical pea!" Her eyes glittered as she spoke, and Bres wondered how much she'd drank over dinner.

"Right..."

"It came with instructions!" She reached back into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of crumpled parchment. "Bres's true love will be able to detect this pea even under twenty mattresses. A small blue bruise will indicate who he should marry."

Bres raised an eyebrow. "So you want us to put the magic pea underneath twenty mattresses, ask Nianna to sleep on it and - assuming she doesn't run from the castle thinking we're insane for asking her to sleep on a death trap - we force her to show us her bare back over breakfast and use the presence of a tiny bruise to convince her she should marry me?"

The Southern Fae must be playing a trick on her, to teach her to stay out of her son's personal life. Bres wondered how many unfortunate princesses would have to sleep in the disaster his mother was concocting before she gave up. Or would word first get out that they were the most ridiculous hosts in any land and no one would dare approach their drawbridge again?

"Of course not!" his mother replied, waving away his concerns with a flick of her bejewelled hand. "The bruise is to prove to you she's the one you should be marrying. Charming her into wanting to is entirely up to you."

Bres let out a frustrated sigh. Impossible. His mother was impossible.

"Don't look at me like that! You brought this on yourself. Even Prince Snowdon is engaged following that nasty business with his step-mother and a poisoned apple. You're becoming a lost cause!" A servant scuttled along the corridor with a pile of blankets and dry clothes. Bres noticed his favourite blue jacket on the top of the pile with a pang. Miro said he looked like a fairytale prince in it. His mother thrust the clothing into Bres's arms and propelled him towards the door. "Get back in there and charm her! I need to instruct the housekeeper on how to prepare her bed."

Miro knew knocking on the castle door would be a mistake. They had no idea who lived there. They didn't even know which kingdom they were in - the South West was a maze of tiny kingdoms with unfollowable boundary lines even locals struggled to pinpoint. He had developed a strange, upside down sensation in his stomach when he looked at the castle turrets. Something didn't feel right and, since he'd discovered exactly what was wrong with this place, he'd been desperate to leave. Qari. Of all the tiny kingdoms he could have found himself in, how could it possibly have been Qari?

"Nianna, we have prepared the princess suite for you." The queen gave his sister a warm smile, her eyes flicking between Nianna and her son with clear intentions. Miro was going to be sick. He would not, could not, be Bres's brother-in-law.

"Oh!" Nianna pulled up short as she entered the room. "Why is the bed so high?"

Miro was hyper aware of Bres's presence behind him, the warmth of his hand as it almost, but not quite, brushed his own. How could this boy who had broken his heart still have the power to make it race?

He tried to ignore the source of his own alarm and concentrate on his sister's instead. No fewer than twenty mattresses had been piled onto a once-elegant wooden frame, which sagged beneath their weight. The top of the bed was so high that a sturdy oak ladder had been propped against it.

"This room is draughty," the queen's voice was as smooth as fresh honey. "It's warmer close to the ceiling. We thought you'd be more comfortable."

Miro watched his sister's focus shift to the flickering fire in the corner of the room, as though she'd sooner curl up on the rug in front of it than climb the impossible tower of soft furnishings. He didn't blame her.

"Sleep well," the queen said with an unsubtle wink as she left the room. Bres trailed after her, shaking his head. He didn't look at Miro.

When the door closed behind them, Nianna turned to her brother in undisguised alarm.

"Please, Miro. I can't sleep here!" Nianna's eyes were wide. He looked from his sister to the towering bed with a sigh. What was Bres playing at? How could they have asked Nianna to sleep here and given him a perfectly normal bed down the hall?

"Okay. I'll swap with you." Miro sighed. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad once he climbed up. With a grateful hug, Nianna tiptoed out of the room down to the bed that had been his only a few minutes before. He hadn't even had a chance to lie down in it and now he missed its simplicity with a pang.

Miro shrugged out of his borrowed clothes and into the nightclothes that had been left out. His fingers lingered over the soft velvet of Bres's jacket. It still smelt like him; like a forest after rain, fresh and clean and wild. He shrugged the jacket back over his nightclothes. It was just for one night. No one would know. He surveyed his new bed with a sigh and climbed the ladder. At least it would be comfortable.

"How did you sleep, dear?" Bres's mother asked over breakfast the next morning.

"Wonderfully!" Nianna gushed, her cheeks rosy, her eyes bright.

The queen's smile slipped. "Really? The bed was... comfortable?"

Nianna and Miro exchanged a brief glance. "Oh yes. I felt as though I was back at home in Prelia. Thank you so much for your kind hospitality."

"Oh..." The smile vanished completely. His mother took a large gulp of tea to hide her disappointment.

"That's wonderful to hear," Bres said, elated. The pea hadn't chosen Nianna. He was safe. Free to wallow in his misery for a little longer.

Miro didn't look any better than he did. His eyes were rimmed purple and red, his skin sallow, as though he'd barely slept.

Bres's mother placed her teacup down with a sharp thud. "Excuse me." She rose to her feet. "I have important matters to attend to. Bres, I am sure you will be able to entertain our guests while they wait for their coachman to arrive?" She swept from the room without a backwards glance.

"Was it... something I said?" Nianna asked Bres, frowning.

"No," he replied, trying to keep his eyes from straying to Miro. "She's all business in the mornings. Always rushing off to some trade deal or... letter writing." He trailed off awkwardly.

"Oh." Nianna put down her fork. She glanced at her brother, who was yawning into his teacup. "I am going to take a walk through the grounds, to see if there's any sign of our coachman. We should be on our way shortly, to stop imposing on your hospitality."

Bres knew he should say something about it being no bother, that they were welcome to stay for as long as they liked, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could last being this close to Miro while still feeling impossibly far apart.

Nianna left the room, the heavy wooden door echoing behind her.

Bres fidgeted with his fingers beneath the table. He tapped his feet, torn between the desire to flee or stay. Silence stretched between them, a fragile, tangible mass.

Miro was the one to break it.

"You seriously need to redo that bedroom," he said with a shaky laugh. "Throw the bed on the fire and start again. Even with the hundreds of mattress you'd piled on top of it, I've never had such an uncomfortable night's sleep."

Bres's mouth hung open, his spoonful of chopped fruit frozen in midair.

"There must be something stuck in it." Miro continued, oblivious to the tight, dizzy feeling in Bres's chest, the chaotic turmoil of his mind. "Look, I even woke up with a bruise!" He spun around in his chair, perhaps eager to turn away from Bres, and lifted up his jacket and shirt - Bres's jacket and shirt - revealing a small blue bruise.

"Wait? You swapped with Nianna?" Bres's voice was an octave too high. He put the fruit back in his bowl, untouched. His hands were shaking too much to support the spoon. "But that means... But you..." he turned away, his heart pounding.

The fae had said the pea would only be felt by the person he was destined to be with. His true love.

Miro.

Had it all been an elaborate trick? A way to show Bres what a fool he had been to push Miro away in Prelia? A way for him to show his mother he would never find a princess who could make him happy, because his heart would always belong to this prince?

If the fae had plucked out his heart and squeezed it in a vice, it couldn't have hurt more than this. The pea's truth had come too late. He had pushed Miro away. Told him they could never be together.

"Miro, I'm sorry," he said in a gush. Miro lowered his shirt and turned back towards him, an eyebrow raised. 

"It was only a bad night's sleep-"

Bres stood abruptly and took up the seat Nianna had vacated. "No. Not about the bed. I mean, I'm sorry about that too. But I want to apologise for... for what happened... between us." Bres was messing this up. Words were tumbling from his lips before he could think them through, running into each other as he struggled to empty his heart. Now he had started, he couldn't stop. 

"I left you because I was scared. I've been miserable ever since." His heart was pounding so loudly he couldn't think. "I know no apology will ever be enough. I know you could never take me back. But..." He broke off, realising Miro had frozen in place. 

"Please, say something!" Anything. "Even if you just want to punch me in the face." He would take anger, hatred, over indifference. At least it would mean Miro still felt something for him, that the time they spent together, meeting in secret beneath the stars and the oak tree, had meant the same to both of them.

"Bres... You broke my heart." Miro's reply was too soft, too sorrowful.

Tears swam in Bres's eyes. "And in doing so, I broke my own too. I was a fool. If I could go back. If I could erase those words, I swear I would. I love you, Miro. I love you."

He waited for Miro tell him it was hopeless, that he was too late.

Instead, Miro brought his face close to Bres's, his fresh, minty scent flooding Bres's senses. "You were a fool, Bres." He shook his head, but a smile was creeping across his lips. "But you're my fool, and I love you too."

Bres's heart raced. He parted his lips to reply, to swear he would never make the same mistake again, but Miro caught them in a kiss full of love and desire, happiness and hope. 

He didn't care what his mother would say. Didn't care if it meant renouncing his title and place in the kingdom. He had lost Miro once, and nothing was going to make him let him go again.