His Royal Highness

Heir Apparent

Prince Camryn

House of Mermes

Mother House of DeepWater

Cam,

I said I would write. And I have so there.

Most Sincerely

Jannixa Jellcanz Strudgenhaus

Professor of Applied Mathematics, penultimate

Lead Chair, Trades & Strategy

Also known as Janx

Post script

Your third letter just arrived. You made me late to class and my assistant had to begin without me. Me, late. They thought I had died. Three letters, Cam. Three letters, long letters, filled with your poems and thoughts. I warm myself in the fire from your words. If you were here in my homeland I would take you to my favorite place the eighth bow window of the Lynnx Archival Library when the light is highest and the window’s stained glass paints the darkened shelves of finely crafted cartography journals and forgotten carved globes. I would take you to this library and make you my new favorite place.

But you are two days ride through the Dark Forest away from me. And you have asked me to tell you my feelings. I could project potential grain shortages during to predicted droughts in the Westlands down to a half bushel but I cannot make pretty words.

I’m not a court lady. I’ve never batted my eyelashes in my life. I know you have heard stories about me. I am not ashamed or wanton. I don’t hide or lie. I have never felt so happy unhappy unsettled and at peace. My council sent me to be your trial bride because of my sharp eye and my abacus heart.

I don’t know how to say I love you Cam.

Post post script

I can say I love the sea. My whole life I have read books. I have studied maps and illustrations but visiting Merryn was the first time I ever experienced an ocean. The crashing sounds made my knees weak. I was mesmerized. I’d studied fishing yields and lunar cycles. Interviewed your fishers and fish markets like a good little statistician. All the while I was falling uncontrollably into the grey, blue, brown, and green of the your sea. I was afraid of its storms and lulled by its waves. You know I stole one of your shirts, dear husband. One of the holey ones you would wear to fish on the beach before daybreak before you put on your fancy clothes and handle disputes and manage your landholdings. I hid it right in my knitting basket. Now your lovely letters live wrapped in your shirt in the drawer with my nightgowns. It smells of sea spray and night time. Each evening I dream of sea spray. I can say I love the sea. You are the sea.

Janx

Also known as your Janx