The most powerful houses in the continent’s history remain Valhades, Aerhull, Thrymcrag, Yverein, Austerhelm, and Sinnasetta. These families are said to wield the purest forms of magic, each lineage blessed by a Demiurge or an Ascendant God—Sun, Moon, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto, or Juno.
— The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall Of Learning
When a union is forged between these bloodlines, the most potent heirs with amalgamated abilities are brought into the world. These unions are divinely orchestrated before times of great unrest, when only novelty can defeat primordial injustice.
Uliya was beyond exhilarated to finally reunite with her friends. There in the back booth of the tavern they shared large glasses of Citrindally’s infamous silver wheat beer. These were her childhood friends, kept in touch with during the few council meetings she had attended over the years — all but Daphne being from noble families that visited Ivorvale often. Daphne’s father had died four years back and her mother had given up all material pleasures to swear in as a priestess at the Central Spire of Demiurge’s Church in Citrindally. The allowance granted by the crown to all priestesses for their services had helped Daphne complete her studies and establish herself as a historian at the Great Hall of Learning.
Kira Redcoven was a towering eighteen year old with light burgundy hair cascading in waves just below her back. Her big round pale green eyes were complemented by a stark red lip today. She had chosen a matching azure tunic and trousers with a thin brown belt at the middle and contrasting white boots studded with silver all over.
Smith, on the other hand, was the beloved third heir of House Cerilington. His father, Lord Ronald Cerilington, served on the King’s Council as the Warden of Commerce and Ports, overseeing the realm’s trade routes, merchant guilds and harbours. He was the same age as Uliya and only a few inches taller, but had over the years built an extraordinary amount of muscle through early training in preparation for a future in the army. His light brown hair had been neatly cut short.
“So how does it feel being back for good, princess?” Smith asked with a grin that reached his grey eyes. Uliya could see it in all of them — they had been waiting desperately to see her. The emotion was right there in their faces, barely contained.
She leaned back on the worn leather sofa and twirled a stray curl around her finger. “Well, it had a rocky start. But much better now that I am getting absolutely shit drunk with you lot!” She roared the last part, and the whole table erupted.
It was around eight in the evening and Zir was struggling to get himself out of the bathing tub. Cecil, now comfortably perched atop the wooden toiletry cabinet, said “Are you ever going to get out of there?”
“Shut up or I will throw water at you again.” The prince replied with clear irritation. He felt exhausted after the long day. He looked out from the large window adjacent to the tub at the twin moons outside, the beautiful stars scattered all around them, and felt a moment of peace.
“You told Luminara you would stop by her chamber at half past eight. Should you not be a gentleman and show up a little early?” Cecil offered in a softer tone, well aware of the kind of day the prince had endured.
Zir placed both hands on either side of the lapis lazuli tub and stretched his back muscles slowly. “I know. It is just that I have to be the bearer of news that I am not sure she will handle well. I made a blood oath back then on my own, without taking her feelings into consideration. And it is not something Lume and I have ever brought up to each other since. She might be waiting to hear it. She might not. I am scared, Cecil.”
The blue raven sighed quietly before speaking. “Do not overthink it, Zir. She deserves to know. And it should come from you.”
The prince looked up at the large clock hanging above the bathing chamber door. Twenty minutes. Finally he pulled himself up, warm water dripping as he summoned a towel with his magic and wrapped it around himself.
“What should I wear?” he asked casually, walking into the bedchamber.
“Not your burden to carry. Her majesty forcefully assigned a lord in waiting for you with special orders to work like a wraith.”
Indeed, an immaculate silver and jet black three piece hung by the armoire door.
A small smile touched his lips. “After two decades my mother has finally gotten accustomed to my likes and dislikes.”
“More like she finally cared to acknowledge them. Regardless, please wear your hair slicked back. You are not in the human lands anymore.” That was the last thing Cecil said before flying out for his own dinner plans with his bird group.
“Are you implying something with that statement?” Zir turned to ask, only to find the raven already gone.
He ended up doing his hair that way a couple of minutes later.
Sometime later,
Luminara had adorned a stunning yet simple sleeveless honeydew gown that spiralled around her legs in rose-shaped pleats. Her hair was left in its natural curls, fashioned into a loose braided bun. Dainty shimmering silver jewellery sat at her ears and throat.
She was seated idly in the armchair of her bedchamber, humming to herself, when a knock came at the door. She opened it with her magic.
The prince stepped through the threshold, hands resting in his pockets. Luminara was in awe immediately.
“Oh, Zir, your hair looks amazing. Why do you not keep it this way always?”
A casual shrug. “Does it look nice? Cecil thought I should go back to the neater look.”
She rose and stood closer, gently inspecting his hair with her fingers. It was only then that Zir noticed how radiant she looked herself, her striking light brown eyes dusted with blue glitter today. Additionally, she smelled like strawberries and rosemary.
“Really good, actually. Listen to the raven more. He is better at this than you.” She said with a smile, once she had finished smoothing the edges.
He smiled back. “Mhm. I will take that into consideration. Shall we go eat?”
She nodded and led him toward her private dining room.
Luminara had rung the small bell and the kitchen maids made a brief appearance to serve the pair with several first course options — small servings of mushroom tartlets, wild berry and goat cheese salad, and crusty bread with garlic-cashew butter. Zir would usually eat without much regard for taste, treating food as little more than sustenance. But he knew Luminara genuinely enjoyed her meals and loved trying new things, so he had informed the cook a day in advance to prepare something special for them.
“This feels like Demiurge handcrafted it himself and took his time doing it.” Luminara said after savouring the caramelised wild mushrooms, her eyes widening with the first bite.
Zir laughed lightly. “I am glad you like it.”
“Like it? If I could commit myself to this food and nothing else for the rest of my life, I would.” She said quickly before continuing to eat.
He paused over his blackberry wine, resting his chin on his knuckles, and watched her quietly for a moment. “I believe you would.”
“Oh, by the way — Uliya and I are starting training together the day after tomorrow. I am rather excited about it.” She added once she had moved on to the goat cheese salad, the small happy movement of her head and shoulders saying enough on its own.
He smiled. “Thank you, Lume. You are probably the only person in the palace she would be comfortable doing this with. And she really does need to train.”
She paused mid-bite and rolled her eyes. “You do not need to thank me. If anything, Ul and I are closer than you and I are. I like her more than I like you.”
He scoffed, buttering his bread. “Good to know your talent for casual cruelty toward me is still fully intact, moonborn.”
She stuck her tongue out before turning her gaze to the stars overhead. They had chosen to leave the oculus in the vaulted ceiling open tonight.
The pair continued through the main course — herb-crusted chicken, mashed potatoes and beef stew — discussing nothing in particular, with the occasional bicker between them.
Luminara was halfway through the berry custard pie she had insisted on sharing before Zir finally brought up what he had come to say. She had claimed she was too full to finish it alone, and he had agreed despite having little of a sweet tooth himself. In truth he had spent most of dessert searching for the right moment.
“Lume, I have something to tell you.” He said softly, deliberately avoiding her eyes.
“Yes? What is it?” She said absently, still looking up at the sky.
He cleared his throat, already uncomfortable. He did not want to stir up anything painful and tried to choose his words carefully.
“So — remember the blood oath I made to—” He began, and when he looked up Luminara had already turned her full attention on him, pinning him with a stare.
Fear closed around his throat, but he managed to continue despite having no read on whether she wanted him to.
“The Draumfell. Cecil connected with my spies recently for another matter, and as it turns out he is being released early. Citing good behaviour at the prison—”
He was cut off by a short laugh from her. A laugh that carried nothing close to joy. Colder than Xerat.
“Good behaviour?” she repeated, and the hostility in her voice shook him. A faint golden light flared at the corners of her eyes, and it was no coincidence that two glass lamps in the far corners of the room burst from the pressure a moment later.
Her eyes were full of fury now. He leaned in and wrapped his hand over hers. “Lume, hey — I know it is complete nonsense. I just wanted to tell you and ask how you would like to proceed. I am not going to push you into anything. It is your call. He is being released two days before the Noctilune Ball.”
She did not answer, clearly still livid. She pulled her hand away and walked out quickly. Zir stared at his empty palm for a moment before closing it. His shoulders sagged and he briefly considered leaving the hall entirely rather than face the walk back to her chamber. Not because he wanted to avoid her anger — but because he could not bear to see her like that. Still, he got up and made his way back, fully expecting to find her locked away in her bathing chamber, and prepared to plead with her from outside the door.
But when he arrived he was met with a different sight entirely. Luminara sat with a large piece of paper spread across the centre table, covered in map markings. Beside it sat a feather inkpot, a large water tumbler, and the bejewelled pink hunting knife — the one he had last seen on that horrific day.
He knew exactly what this meant. Luminara herself sat quietly, breathing in the scent from the lemon-chamomile balm jar she used to calm the anxiety that occasionally overtook her.
“Moonbug?” he whispered.
She did not look up — likely to avoid showing him whatever was reflected in the glassiness of her eyes. “Why do you not come back wearing something more comfortable. It is going to be a long night for us, Zir.”
He pressed a silent kiss to the top of her head and left.
The weather in Citrindally was harsh, the rain switching between drizzle and downpour every half hour. The usually thriving crowds of Terracinder had retreated indoors to taverns, cafes and restaurants, the shops shuttered for the day. The average Fyrge carries enough magic to keep their stores waterproof during rain, but unseasonal weather is considered a blessing from Demiurge, and most choose to close for a few hours in his honour when it arrives.
An unusually tall stranger, wrapped in a thick pine-green cloak and white leather trousers, made his way through the heavy rain across the otherwise empty market square. He passed several shuttered cafes, stores and restaurants before stopping in front of the open entrance of a tavern. He looked up at the sign above and repeated the word back to himself in a quiet whisper. “Andedod.” On a regular day he might have asked the owner what it meant. But the world had been particularly unkind to him today. He simply pushed back his dry hood and walked inside.
People were dancing and drinking throughout the tavern. Busy, certainly, but nothing overwhelming. He assumed the weather had driven some of the usual crowd elsewhere. He hung his cloak on the large hanging tree in the corner alongside the others and made his way toward the ale seating, where the bartender was currently attending to a row of Fyrges.
He took a seat and the bartender’s eyes landed on him almost immediately. Apparently he had a distinct enough look to draw attention quickly.
“Evening. What can I get you?” The bartender offered a polite smile.
“Would the Weeping Tresses liqueur be available? I understand it is off season, but I am willing to pay whatever the price.” The stranger asked, and it was clear to the bartender that he had travelled some distance just to get hold of it. The liqueur could only be made during one specific month in winter, when the waters of the Weeping Tresses turned from their usual red to grey. That water was then used to ferment pomegranates and millet, producing a deep maroon liqueur strong enough to bring down even the mightiest in under three glasses. Its seasonal scarcity made it a luxury few could access outside of winter.
The bartender nodded and disappeared into the back room.
Soon the stranger held a wide crystal glass, half filled with the strong liqueur. He sipped slowly, working through a bowl of complimentary salted and spiced almonds.
He did not bother glancing at the crowd even once. He was in a sombre mood. Sombre enough that even drunken sex would not fix it.
“Oh, so you can give it to him but not to me?” a silken voice complained from beside him. Close enough that the stranger understood she was, in fact, talking about him.
He looked up to find a pretty golden-haired youngling to his left, dressed in a smooth corseted teal gown with heavy gold detailing along the hem. She was addressing the bartender with narrowed eyes. The bartender had bowed deeply before responding. “I apologise, your highness. I did not feel comfortable lying about the unavailability. But her majesty gave special instructions to every tavern in Citrindally not to serve you the red liqueur after the previous—”
She rolled her eyes, and it became increasingly clear she was a teenager, no older than eighteen, possibly younger. She took the seat beside the stranger and leaned in to whisper to the bartender. “Must you be so dramatic about it? Just pour me half a glass. I will not make a scene and I will never tell a soul. My friends are already three drinks in. This stays between us.” She glanced briefly at the stranger and added, “And this gorgeous foreign male, who looks smart enough to keep a secret. But that is all he is keeping.”
That was when the stranger understood exactly who he was sitting beside. The youngest princess of Citrindally — Uliya Van Larsson Valhades — was negotiating expertly inches from him.
The bartender hesitated. “Your high—” but was cut off by the stranger’s deep voice. “It is fine. Why not bring me another glass as well. I am allowed to offer the lady a drink, am I not? That would not break any rules.”
Uliya grinned at him before turning back to the bartender. “No issue then, right, Gus?” She was clearly a regular.
Gus gave them both a forced nod and left.
“Oh, you have no idea what you just saved me from. Thank you so much.”
The stranger laughed. “Is silver wheat really that much of a downgrade?”
She pouted, turning fully toward him now. “Of course it is. Silver wheat is what you drink when you want to feel good. Red liqueur is for when you want to let go of every inhibition you have.” The last part came out with a delighted squeal that lifted his spirits more than anything had all day.
He laughed. “Yes, I can vouch for that myself.”
Gus returned with her glass. She snatched it and took a greedy first sip that left him quietly impressed. The girl clearly knew her liquor.
“So what is your name?” Uliya asked casually.
“Armond. Yours?”
He would have addressed her properly, but something told him it would be better not to. She had likely come here to escape the title in the first place. Just like someone else he knew.
“Uliya. I am a regular here.” She said, halfway through her second sip.
It was only once the bartender had disappeared again that she said, “Oh, right — here,” reaching for her coin purse.
“No, it is fine. Really. It is on me. I am glad I could help.”
She tried to protest, but he was the better negotiator. Eventually she gave up and rose. “Thank you. I will remember this kindness. I hope we meet again, Armond.”
“I hope so too. Enjoy your evening.” He offered with a grin, and just as he attempted a chivalrous bow, she pulled him into a quick hug instead and was gone.
The stranger walked out of Andedod smiling, in a far better mood than when he had arrived. It was only once he reached the dark alley behind the tavern that he made a mental note to ask Kushiana how her little sister had such a sunny disposition when she herself was always like a dagger waiting to strike.
Then the Northern High Prince stepped into the emerging blue portal and returned home, to Xerat.
A small black trunk packed with essentials sat stuffed in a corner before the eldest Valhades made her way to the family’s private dining room. Her mother had sent Nysleon to check her availability for dinner — just the two of them, to her surprise. Kushiana and Lena rarely ate alone together. They had a good relationship, but Kushiana had always been closer to her father. Regardless, she obliged. She needed to make sure her parents suspected nothing before she left for Xerat tomorrow.
She put on the first ironed maroon gown her new lady in waiting, Isa, had brought her. The female had been chosen that afternoon by the queen, once Kushiana confirmed she had no interest in interviewing anyone herself.
The princess walked briskly, realising it was barely two hours to midnight. The queen occasionally kept very late meals due to an overfull schedule, and today had included a distant cousin’s early morning wedding celebrations and a long meeting with the Council’s organising committee for the Noctilune Ball.
She stepped into the dining room to find Lena sitting alone at the head of the table. Nysleon was nowhere in sight. Her mother’s expression carried fatigue — rare, to see the solar queen anything less than radiant.
“How was your day, Mother?” Kushiana asked, settling into the seat at Lena’s left. The table was set, but aside from the large garnet vase of blooming carnations at its centre, only a bottle of fine cotton-blue wine and two glasses sat before them.
Lena snapped her fingers and the bottle lifted with her magic, pouring equal measures into both glasses. Kushiana raised hers toward her mother for a quick toast, only to find Lena had already taken a generous sip from her own. It was only once Kushiana drank from hers that her mother spoke.
“I have become deeply concerned by a distance I only recently noticed has grown within our family.”
Kushiana would have choked had she not already swallowed her wine. For a brief moment she feared Lena meant her dealings with Caelen — but her mother sighed and continued. “It pains me to see you and Zir constantly arguing. What happened between you two that was so serious?”
The princess loosened her grip on the cutlery she had instinctively grabbed, releasing a breath. “Oh — that. You worried me, Mother. We are fine. We spoke today and cleared up a misunderstanding. He thought I was angry with him. I told him there was no such thing.”
“Why on earth would he think that of you? You adore your brother and sister.” Lena asked, confused.
Kushiana did not feel entirely comfortable discussing something between herself and Zir, but the concern on her mother’s face made her decide it was better to speak.
She leaned in, taking another sip of wine while choosing her words carefully. “Back when Zir was with Sylveline, I found out she had been with someone else at the same time. I was angry and said things about her that he was not ready to hear. He told me not to meddle in his affairs, so I kept a respectable distance to let him work through it on his own. But he thought the distance meant I had not forgiven him. He carried that until today, when he finally came to apologise.”
Kushiana looked up to find several emotions crossing her mother’s face — raw distaste, indignation, and what might even have been a rare flash of anger in her eyes. Lena clicked her tongue once and leaned back further.
“You are telling me that on top of every disrespectful and treacherous thing her family had already attempted against ours, she also destroyed my son’s love for her with such deliberate cruelty?”
It was a rhetorical question, and Kushiana knew it. Lena simply needed to hear the words back to fully take them in. She was no longer looking at Kushiana, her gaze fixed on the far end of the hall instead.
Kushiana answered by laying her palm over her mother’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. “It is in the past, Mama. Zir is not hurting anymore.”
But Lena’s gaze did not waver. “I will see every remaining Havburth hanged before I am laid to rest.”
“All of us will. Together. I promise.” Kushiana replied softly, and Lena seemed to gather herself, remembering the actual purpose of the dinner.
“Anyway — that is not what I wanted to speak to you about. Today, at the wedding, I was introduced to a fine gentleman.”
The moment the words left Lena’s mouth Kushiana rolled her eyes and began mentally discarding everything that followed, already certain where this was heading and knowing she was going to need considerably more wine before the night was over.
Luminara and Zir were sprawled on opposite ends of the large green velvet sofa in her chamber. Cecil was perched atop a lavender vine falling from the canopy of the bed — Zir had fashioned it into a makeshift swing for him at some point, and the blue raven was making full use of it while the two laid out their plan.
“You are going to need to come up with a herb combination that knocks him out for a couple of hours. Even with our magic we will have to move him all the way from the Odolith to our meeting spot. I cannot use palm travel because he would be unconscious and unable to consent.”
Luminara snorted. “The magic should really make an exception for someone who clearly has no relationship with the concept of consent himself.” She noted something down on the small piece of paper in front of her at the coffee table, mauve ink quill in hand.
Zir stretched, resting the back of his head against one bicep. He had come back changed into a white silk georgette pyjama shirt and trousers with a silver sleeping robe over it. Luminara had let her hair down and changed into an off-shoulder dark green linen nightgown.
He looked at the clock behind Cecil. It was almost midnight.
“Mind indulging in some strong coffee?” the prince asked, his eyelids were getting heavy.
“How endearing that you religiously follow your bedtime princeling. I’ll pass though.” Luminara said tauntingly without looking up from the paper.
He scoffed and shot up, closing the distance between them to tug at her arm lightly. “Please. It’s unlawful behaviour to not accompany your friend when they want to have a beverage.”
She rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.” But eventually rang the bell for the kitchen maids working overnight. Two perfectly warm cups of cinnamon coffee were soon sent to their room.
“Alright so everything else in our plan is air tight. We just need to ensure that the herb combination works. Otherwise he could attract attention easily. Since almost everyone in Citrindally will be gracing Odolith that night.” Zir said energetically an hour later, while pacing on the floor.
“I suggest mixing in a little worm poison, that’ll get the job done.” Cecil advised, finally stopping his swinging.
“Worm poison, seriously? You think it’s sufficient to unravel a man of his stature just because it knocked you out once?” Zir retorted instantly with an eyebrow raise and Cecil turned his head in Luminara’s direction. “He’s right actually, the effects are dicey. Let’s test it on Zir himself first.”
Luminara exclaimed “Cecil, I am not feeding poison to my friend to test your theory!”
But Zir immediately snapped his finger. “Brilliant idea bud, but I have training early morning with Ilias and he won’t budge. So we’ll try it tomorrow night.”
“That is your concern in this scenario!?” Luminara cried out. But the other two simply tilt their heads in unison, visibly confused. “Why not?” They ask together.
“You two are weighing his life like it means nothing Demiurge help me. I am surrounded by morons! Argh.” The moonborn said irritably before burying her face in the sofa cushion. It’s only when she hears. “And she called you dramatic.” “Right!?” That she looks up and rewards the duo with a death glare.
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