She traveled to the gorge without a retinue, without a grand carriage, without anything but a toolbox her father the king had given her on her twelfth birthday. Kaelen met her at the edge of the chasm—a broad-shouldered woman with calloused hands and eyes that crinkled when she smiled.
Donna looked at her—really looked. At the dirt under her nails, the strength in her shoulders, the way she watched the bridge with the same steady pride a parent watches a child take its first step. Kaelen didn’t need fixing. She needed a partner. princess donna
“And you’re greasier than I expected,” said Donna, nodding at the smear of pitch on Kaelen’s cheek. She traveled to the gorge without a retinue,
Donna looked at him. She saw the sadness in his eyes, but she also saw the way he hadn’t noticed the stable boy struggling with a loose horseshoe or the cook fanning a smoky oven flue. Prince Aldric didn’t want a fixer. He wanted a nurse. At the dirt under her nails, the strength
A week later, a messenger arrived from the eastern marshes—not from a prince, but from a woman named Kaelen, a master bridge builder. Her letter was short and written on waterproofed leather:
He arrived with a formal suit of gems and a proposal: “Princess Donna, your gentle hand is needed in Thornwood. Our castle is old, our people are quiet, and I require a wife who will bring warmth to the cold stones.”
“It’s a loose gear in the winding mechanism,” she declared one Tuesday morning, pushing up the sleeves of her gown. She had already read every book in the castle’s library on mechanical engineering, much to the dismay of her tutors.