Tag: fantasy fiction

  • Chapter 14 – When A Star Loses Its Sheen

    The Fyrges have a peculiar mourning custom reserved for the members of the Royal House of Valhades. When a royal dies, each member of the family leaves a keepsake in the burial shroud, before their coffin is laid to rest. It is believed that the spirit remembers the memory attached to the keepsake and carries that memory into the eternal afterlife, should Demiurge grant them entry to his haven. Those that end up in the fallen angel’s pit are said to be tormented by that memory every second they spend there.

    — The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall of Learning

    The day seemed to stretch longer than usual and Uliya was grateful for it. After training “extensively” with Luminara — her words, delivered gravely to Agatha upon returning to her chamber — she had bathed and changed. Agatha had laid out a hand-woven amaranth lace gown, boat-necked, with a spider-web skirt falling just below the knee.

    “Oh my, what a pulchritudinous dress, Agatha!” Uliya exclaimed dramatically, still wrapped in her thick white bathing robes.

    Yer tilted her head.

    “What! I am simply expanding my vocabulary. I do not want anyone at the Noctilune Ball to think me dull mid-conversation.”

    “They will if you use that word, Ul. And it is not the correct usage — the word is reserved for living things.” Yer corrected sweetly.

    She rolled her eyes. “So I cannot use it to describe you if I kill you first for being so condescending, is that right?”

    The dove lowered her head. “It was only funny once. If you threaten me with abuse one more time I shall withdraw my counsel for the remainder of the day.”

    Uliya immediately ran over and began caressing the bird’s head. “What — no! Please do not do that. I am sorry. You are the finest companion in all our generations.”

    Agatha, who had been struggling to suppress a laugh, cleared her throat and stepped in. “Your highness, would simple diamond earrings suit this attire? Since I kept the hem slightly shorter per your instruction, I also set out black stockings and low-heeled lace-up shoes in polished black leather.”

    Uliya nodded enthusiastically, still placating the dove. “Yes, perfect. And please put my hair in a loose bun with daisies.”

    Agatha smiled. “Of course. I will fetch some from the garden.”

    Yer turned her head back. “I will assist now that Uliya has corrected herself.” The princess grinned.

    Sometime later,

    Luminara made her way from the eastern wing toward the Valhades’ private dining chamber. She wore a sleeveless cerulean blue silk gown with dainty platinum jewellery — small studs at her ears and a sleek cuff at her wrist. The singular pink opal ring gleamed on her right hand. Her long hair was freshly washed, falling in loose waves down her back with two thin ceremonial braids framing either side of her face. She had chosen black leather boots with a low heel to stay comfortable for shopping later.

    She hummed to herself as she passed a cluster of younger guards who looked at her as though she had materialised after several sincere prayers, and actively chose not to notice. She did stop, however, to thank the palace maids warmly when they called compliments through the kitchen window.

    She stopped again only at the doors of the dining hall, knocking once on the open double doors to make sure she was not interrupting a private conversation between Lena and Uliya.

    “Come in, Luminara.” The queen replied and she entered, surprised to find Lena alone. Nysleon was sprawled in the corner catching up on his afternoon nap.

    She gave a respectful bow and pulled out the chair to Lena’s left. “I trust you have been keeping well, your majesty?” The queen was radiant as always, dressed in a lush amber gown with silver embroidery across the long pleated sleeves. Her hair had been woven into an intricately braided bun that resembled a carnation even from the front.

    The queen dismissed the question with a light wave. “Not especially. Moronic Counsel business. But I will be now that I get to have lunch with two of my lovely daughters.”

    Luminara laughed and poured the queen some blueberry wine from the bottle already on the table. She decided to wait for Uliya before pouring her own. “Of course. Though it is a shame Kushiana could not join us.”

    The queen took a considered sip before responding with a new ease. “I suspect she is seeing someone. I deliberately invented a non-existent gentleman and mentioned him to her last night, hoping she might simply tell me herself.”

    Luminara raised an eyebrow. She had never thought of Kushiana as someone with a secret affair — purely because she had always seen her occupied with something else entirely.

    She shrugged. “Perhaps you are right. It would be interesting. She hardly seems to have the time for gathering suitors.”

    Lena smirked and took a longer sip. “Who said anything about a suitor? I merely meant a sexual escapade from her otherwise structured days.”

    Luminara choked on the cucumber water she had acquired seconds before. The queen often caught her off guard with her candour, but this was by far the most unexpected she had ventured.

    “Oh dear, are you alright?” The queen fussed over her with a cloth napkin that Luminara accepted gratefully.

    “I am perfectly fine, your majesty — I simply did not catch the direction of the conversation before it changed so abruptly.”

    The queen started to answer but stopped when she spied Uliya’s mist making an appearance near the door. The princess then materialised out of thin air in her corporeal form.

    “Well well, someone’s late to lunch again.” The queen offered as hello, tilting her head slightly.

    She sighed dramatically before settling into the seat to Lena’s right. “Training with Nara was exhausting, mama. As you must be able to tell, even the walk up here was a burden.”

    Luminara rolled her eyes. “She merely did a warm-up, by the way.”

    “It was almost an attempt to assassinate me!”

    The queen cleared her throat, feigning seriousness. “Don’t say such vile things, Uliya. Who would attempt to assassinate a princess with no political understanding.”

    Luminara roared with laughter and Uliya stuck her tongue out.

    “If the two of you are done tormenting me, can we eat please. I am starving.” The princess said with a pout.

    The duo nodded and the queen rang for the kitchen maids while Luminara poured wine into all three glasses.

    Lunch was a generous spread — broccoli and cream cheese tarts, glazed chicken and turnip salad, roasted fish with lemon and herbs, buttered baby potatoes dusted with dill, warm honeyed carrots, crusty rosemary loaves, and a platter of ripe figs, grapes and soft cheeses drizzled with chestnut honey.

    Luminara was busy buttering a piece of bread while Uliya savoured the tarts when Lena asked “So any exciting romantic adventures I must learn about?”

    Uliya shook her head lightly — she was in the habit of sharing her romantic conquests with her mother. “No, I haven’t met anyone since coming back. Though an attractive auburn haired female did keep looking in my direction the other evening at the tavern. But I couldn’t place her intention as she never approached.”

    “Why didn’t you?” Luminara asked casually.

    “A male had his arm wrapped around her waist. So I presumed they were together.”

    “Could’ve been a friend. You must always ask.” The queen said thoughtlessly while sipping.

    Uliya shrugged and turned to Luminara in anticipation. A single look cast at the pink opal ring was enough to raise the silent question.

    “Oh I have nothing either. That’s a gift from Zir.”

    The queen scoffed. “Then it’s clearly something. He’s certainly in love with you.”

    “Oh no mama, don’t go stating the obvious it makes Nara murderous.”

    The moonborn glared at her. “He’s not. He’s always gotten me jewellery. It doesn’t have to mean anything romantic.” She retorted with furrowed brows.

    “Absolutely my darling, just like it wouldn’t when you two are standing at the altar kissing as we all throw white petunias in your direction.” Lena said with a mischievous wink and Uliya burst out laughing.

    Luminara shook her head lightly, attempting her straightest face. She knew them well enough to know even a hint of amusement would only make them tease her more. “You lot are insufferable.” The other two continued laughing.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Zir didn’t stay long after handing Sylveline the medicine. Just a brief catch-up between two old friends. They parted ways and he began walking the path back to the entrance of Lejonet, his raven companion perched on his shoulder in punishing silence. That is until an eagle’s squeaky chirp echoed through the woods. Cecil cawed loudly in response.

    The prince ignored it and continued walking. But a few steps later another unrecognisable bird made a sound and Cecil did the same thing again. This continued for some fifty steps — the blue raven responding to every single sound in the forest.

    Zir halted and sighed. “What is it, Cecil? Is there something you want to say?”

    “Something? I want to say many things! Beginning with why in the fallen angels’ pit did you agree to visit her again?!”

    Zir continued walking. “I was simply being polite, Cecil. Did you expect me to say no directly to her?”

    “Yes. Like you do to everyone else without thinking twice. You’re still weak for her, Zir, and it shows. This might cost you someday.”

    “Well maybe I don’t require your counsel on this particular matter. I’m anyway tired of you butting in—”

    He didn’t get to finish as the blue raven flew off his shoulder onto the ground and began shooting pebbles at him with unnatural speed. “Don’t need my counsel! After everything I’ve done for you. You arrogant moron, I’ll give you counsel right now!” The blue raven was absolutely livid. Zir had to duck behind the large banyan tree nearby to shield himself. It was only when the pelting stopped after five minutes that Zir leaned out slightly and said softly. “I’m sorry.”

    Cecil was back to normal, the raw anger out of his system. “Fly us back fast. I do not wish to spend another minute in this cursed forest.”

    The prince nodded sincerely and picked him up.

    Soon they were back in the private courtyard of Ivorvale.

    “I am going to see Luminara. Do you want to come?” Zir asked, turning to Cecil now perched on the fountainhead.

    “She’s not in the palace. She went to Terracinder with Uliya. Yer informed me.” For long distances the companions usually connected telepathically, though they avoided using the ability often to keep fatigue at bay.

    The prince nodded, visibly deflated. He had desperately needed to see her.

    “I am going for a hunt. I’ll see you in two hours.” Cecil replied and flew off in the direction of the city.

    Zir scoffed and muttered “That lying raven. I know he meant on the hunt for Yer” before heading toward his own chamber in the western wing.

    The misery weighed heavy on his shoulders as he collapsed onto the long sofa in his antechamber and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. The ink had smeared slightly from being held too tight but the words were clear enough.

    “Help my family find a way out. Otherwise I’ll be left with no choice but to make yours fall apart with the truth.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    “Stop it right now!” Kushiana called in Caelen’s direction for the third time. The northern prince had zero intention of stopping.

    On their walk back from the restaurant Kushiana had made the terrible mistake of asking what fruit hung from one of the giant exotic trees they passed on the path back to the villa. It was far up the mountain, even from where the villa sat some fifty steps away. But Kushiana had been blessed with extraordinary vision since birth — her secondary magical gift. She could view anything at a distance as clearly as if it were directly in front of her. Distance was a non-existent variable in her boundless field of sight.

    “You’ve never tried vixenfruit!?” was the last thing Caelen said before he ran up a diverging path to the left, toward a narrow stairway up the snow-covered peak.

    “Why didn’t he just use his portal?” Agnes asked from her shoulder.

    “Who knows. There’s no way he was raised by Xerata and Lloyd. My guess is some kind of mountain ape took him in.” Kushiana responded with an eye roll.

    “He’s so full of life though. And thoughtful. Attractive too.” Agnes cooed and Kushiana pulled at her tiny scarf.

    “So I am not allowed to appreciate his beauty but you get to gawk endlessly at his dead father!” The phoenix complained, adjusting the scarf back with a touch of her wing.

    The princess seethed. “For the last time, I was not gawking. His eyes were hypnotic. I tried to look away but couldn’t for some reason.”

    Kushiana awaited a retort but felt movement on her shoulder instead.

    Agnes had turned to look behind her.

    “Hello? Stay at a respectable distance.” The phoenix said sharply and Kushiana immediately turned — to find four Xerakeet males staring at her in the way she loathed and feared in equal measure. All towering, hardly an inch or two shorter than Caelen, dressed in refined winter clothes. Nothing extraordinary in their appearance except the smell of liquor coming off them and the fact that one held a traditional coyote snare ribbon in his fist, already folded. It was a banned hunting tool used to trap holy coyotes — the only magical beings outside of Fyrges and Xerakeets — by neutralising their magic. It had unfortunately been discovered that it worked on the other two species as well, and had been used on several occasions before its eventual prohibition.

    They were barely ten steps away. The one holding the snare moved fast.

    It was only around four in the afternoon, but the sun would soon begin to set and they happened to be on the empty middle ground between the housing lane and the otherwise bustling highland.

    Kushiana wasn’t certain how far up Caelen was or whether he could hear her. She summoned lightning quickly and launched it in their direction — but the redhead at the back raised his palm and absorbed it entirely. Hinjk had once told her that her power was rare and formidable, but the only time she could truly lose was in the presence of null magic if she wasn’t prepared. The said male was harbouring exactly that.

    So Kushiana did what she knew best. She took a step back and ran toward the villa. Agnes soared above her. The phoenix would ordinarily have attempted to burn them with whatever fire her small physique could produce, but the null magic had shifted the situation too quickly.

    The males followed, not far behind. Kushiana subdued her fear and focused only on the path ahead. She didn’t waste her breath calling for Caelen. Even a second was precious — if they managed to get the snare ribbon anywhere on her body, her powers would be neutralised completely.

    Run. Run. Run — a soothing male voice whispered in her head. One she had not remembered in a long time. She swallowed her fear and picked up her pace.

    She had run perhaps twenty steps further when she ran directly into an unmistakably strong male body that emerged in her path. She would have fought against it, had her nose not been immediately enveloped in the familiar scent of cedarwood.

    “I see some of the locals don’t share my enthusiasm for hospitality.” Caelen’s voice was heavier than usual as it cut through the silent air. A soothing hand came to rest behind Kushiana’s head.

    She lost a breath and turned just in time to see the males go pale and attempt to retreat — but the prince tilted his head pleasantly and moved his free hand in their direction, and suddenly they could not move. They struggled with everything above the waist while their legs remained fixed to the ground.

    “No, no. Stay. I have always prided myself on my manners. Wouldn’t you like a private lesson from your sovereign’s prime?” He said with the sweetest smile, moving gently past Kushiana toward his target. But when she looked up as he passed, his eyes had turned a bloodshot red devoid of any other colour.

    Agnes flew back and perched on Kushiana’s shoulder.

    “Let us go!” “Please!” “We are sorry!” echoed across the empty land. A waste of breath. Caelen stopped directly in front of them. He said something in Xerlin that Kushiana made out as “Pitrym Resquevir” before raising his other palm toward them and snapping it shut.

    All four heads simultaneously exploded into a thousand or more red lustrous beads that rose upward before pouring back down like droplets of rain, spreading across their decapitated bodies and the snow-covered cobblestones.

    Kushiana watched with wide eyes, effectively stunned into silence. Not because of what he did — she had intended to do the same with her own lightning. But because of the raw power that emanated from him. She had seen nothing like it before. It was something beyond magic. It seemed to be a part of him.

    Agnes said nothing either.

    Caelen, however, seemed entirely at ease as he stretched his arms and turned back. His eyes and expression were already restored to their naturally neutral state.

    He walked over and reached into his wide coat pocket, producing four maroon fruits with coconut-like shells, each about the size of a mango. “It took some effort not to strip the whole tree bare, I won’t lie. I love vixenfruit. But I picked what I believe are the sweetest ones for you, because nobody should be deprived of its taste.” 

    Kushiana nodded lightly and took two, still too stunned to thank him. The prince gave her hand a gentle squeeze and they walked back in silence.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The youngest Valhades found herself back at Andedod again, this time alongside Luminara. It was more lively tonight as the skies were clear. The two had sat down at the bar after a long day of shopping, exploring coffee shop desserts, and walking, lots of it to Uliya’s dismay.

    The bartender appeared with two tall glasses of silverwheat. “Your highness, lady Luminara” He bowed respectfully to both. And Uliya could swear his polite smile extended a little as he turned to Luminara. He’d also stretched on her name a little. As if he’d love to say it more. 

    “Are you greeting her or claiming her Gus?” Uliya said to poke fun with a click of her tongue.

     Luminara snorted while he struggled to explain himself, his face a tinge of red. “Your highness I—”

    “She’s just messing with you, thank you Gus.” Luminara raised her glass and the two females toasted before they began drinking. The bartender quickly disappeared to serve others. 

    “Oh my Nara, you wouldn’t believe it. I met this foreign male here last night. He was absolutely magnificent.” Uliya randomly burst out and Luminara raised an eyebrow.

    “Well probably, since you remember him. You usually reserve your gaze for the females.” 

    The princess nodded incessantly. “Yes. He was breathtaking, he had stunning silver hair. The most gorgeous silver-lavender eyes and crimson lips, But that’s not even it! He spoke with such an easy cadence, his voice was deep and slightly accented. He seemed to be in his third decade or younger. And he was so towering! Like think four inches on Zir.” 

    Luminara gaped “All of that and so tall really? Oh my he sounds like a dream.” 

    Uliya squeaked “Right! Plus he was nice enough to get me red liqueur when Gus refused because of mama’s meddling. And he didn’t even let me pay! Oh my. I wish I could meet him again. I would introduce him to Kushiana. They’d look positively heartbreaking together.”

    Luminara returned the excitement. “Oh yes! And think about all the beautiful babies they’d make! We’ll get to play with them.” 

    “Yes Demiurge, help me! It’d be wonderful. I’ll show him to mama in my mind. If he’s not married or betrothed to anyone. I assume he wasn’t. I could totally play the matchmaker for Kush.” The lightness of her manner died down towards the end of the sentence though. As Uliya recalled the time where she wouldn’t have to. 

    “Hey what’re you thinking?” Luminara asked, noting the change in her expressions. 

    “I just remembered Kushiana before…She was content with him.” Her eyes turned moist. 

    The words clenched at Luminara’s own heart. “They were, weren’t they?” The question didn’t need an answer. 

    The duo remained quiet for a moment, drinking slowly. Before Uliya regained her composure and downed the rest of her beer at once. “Nara let’s go dance!” The moonborn nodded and did the same, soon the two rushed giggling towards the dancing arena. 

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Luminara parted from the golden head at the great twin archway of the palace after a long day of shopping, indulging in desserts and dancing at the tavern. She’d avoided too many drinks though, to make sure both of them reached back safely since Uliya doesn’t like being flanked by guards even on such occasions and Luminara worried for the princess’s safety.

    She hummed to herself while walking back to the otherwise empty eastern wing. The yellow light of the red oil lamps soothed her as she walked the lit hallway to her chamber. To her surprise, she saw a shadowed figure waiting at her door as soon as she reached the turn. For a moment her heart stopped. But the rotating lantern hanging from the entryway ceiling turned and the figure was clearly illuminated. She breathed in relief and walked faster toward the male.

    “You made my heart stop beating for a fleeting moment, dimwit!” She stopped before him and half yelled.

    But when Zir, clad in a loose onyx cotton pullover, finally looked up, a different sort of worry made its way back to Luminara. His eyes were red and swollen.

    “What happened?” The words left her mouth abruptly and before she could lean down beside him, he stepped up and hugged her. “I got myself in grave trouble.” The words were barely above a whisper. She didn’t move, just wrapped a comforting arm around his neck.

    Unaware of how long they stayed like that, the prince eventually pulled himself together enough to break their hug. In doing so their eyes met again. And for a moment he debated if he actually wanted to let go, but managed to persist.

    “Let’s talk inside, Zir.” Luminara said and unlocked the door with her thumb. The locks in the palace were forged with a unique touchbinding magic that allowed the owner to lock their chamber with their preferred object. She’d chosen her own thumb for fastest access.

    When they were inside Zir had told her he’d wait while she cleaned up after the long day. Luminara hadn’t retorted with “Are you implying that I smell bad, Ziruth?” like she usually did to fluster him, but simply nodded. Reading his mood.

    Soon the moonborn emerged with a clean face devoid of any rouge, lip stain or dusted glitter from earlier, clad in a loose violet pyjama shirt and pants. “No Cecil today?” She asked softly, settling on the opposite end of the large velvet sofa.

    Zir had sat comfortably, turned toward her. “Can’t have him find out before we speak. He will not take it well.”

    Luminara matched the gesture, crossing her legs over the couch to maximise comfort.

    “You’re worrying me, Zir. What is it that’s so bad?”

    He bit his lip and remained silent for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “Remember that herb I asked you to make?”

    She nodded.

    “It was for Nivun. Sylveline’s—”

    “Father, yes.” The moonborn completed. Her expression registered no change.

    Zir stared in surprise. “You don’t look shocked?”

    She simply shrugged. “I read between the lines. Mysterious herb. Nivun’s chronic ailment that everyone often talked about back then. You having it made by me instead of any other healer in the capital. Not wanting the majesties to learn of it.” She refrained from mentioning the part where Sylveline is also the only person capable of making Zir keep a secret even from Luminara. It wasn’t the first time this had happened and it stung, but she didn’t let it show.

    He nodded lightly. “Right. I forgot you’re smarter than I am. Of course you figured it out.”

    “Mhm.”

    “So. I went to Lejonet with Cecil this morning thinking I’d hand it over and quickly take my leave but—”

    A quick flash of anger crossed the prince’s eyes and his tone sharpened. “It’s Sylveline of course. I had been a fool and that wasn’t her only intention. Cecil was sitting at a reasonable distance from us. She passed me this in the middle of an outwardly pleasant seeming conversation.” He uttered through a clenched jaw while pulling a piece of paper from his black pants and handing it to Luminara.

    “Help my family find a way out. Otherwise I’ll be left with no choice but to make yours fall apart with the truth.” Luminara repeated the cursed words back to him.

    He felt an emerging flare of tension in his head along with the urge to break something. He couldn’t hear Luminara for a passing moment or two — but the moonborn moved closer and pulled his large callused palm into her soft tiny one, effectively enclosing it, and suddenly all the rage dissipated from his body. His focus returned to the present. The ice that had begun spreading toward his fingertips retreated, her soothing warmth seeping in.

    “Zir, are you okay?” She asked, the worry returning to her soft brown eyes.

    “Ah yes, moonbug. I’m fine. Sorry I got lost in my thoughts. What were you saying?” He replied while caressing her hand lightly and she eased up.

    “What truth is she talking about? If you could tell me?” He could hear the bite in the second question even though Luminara tried to conceal it. He knew he had been in the wrong when he’d kept the whole Sylveline situation from Luminara in the past. She’d been wounded when she overheard palace servants gossiping — especially considering the prince had mulled over the heartbreak alone and avoided her for a few days to avoid breaking down about it. He hadn’t wanted to burden her with his pain, despite knowing she was the only one who wouldn’t have judged.

    “Who else would I ever tell? That’s what I am here for.” He said seriously, and something softened in her eyes as she nodded.

    He cleared his throat. It was a heavy topic to bring up. Something everyone in the family — even Luminara had refused to speak about because of the tragedy of it.

    “Remember Evan?” The words came out quieter than he intended and Luminara’s own gaze lowered slightly, but she squeezed his hand as she responded. “How could I forget?”

    Evan was Kiev’s most trusted guard and had been present the day Luminara was rescued from the throng of hateful males. But most importantly, she and Zir remembered him as Kushiana’s betrothed, her safe space, before she became guarded.

    The prince continued. “Father told us that he died fighting in the Kirkshire battle with the resistance army back then and shifted responsibility for it toward the Havburths once they’d been caught. But that wasn’t the case.”

    The moonborn raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

    “Since the Havburths hadn’t been charged with political upheaval and creating resistance by then, Sylveline and I happened to be together one night. By the gardens in the back courtyard.”

    He hesitated slightly and she understood, but remained silent.

    “We were in the greenhouse. We heard someone coming so we got quiet and laid low under the small window. Assumed it might be the guards or some servants. But it was father, speaking to a male shrouded in black. They spoke in hushed voices but it was clear enough given our proximity. The male said ‘I took care of Evan, now you take care of your half of the deal.’”

    Luminara couldn’t believe what she heard. Evan had always looked out for her like a brother. “No, Zir. No. Please don’t tell me the king was behind his—” She stopped mid sentence as the words sank in.

    The prince remained still and let her absorb it.

    Soon a tear slipped down her cheek.

    “He didn’t deserve to die like that. Evan of all people. Why him?”

    She could almost see him standing beside her then — the tall, charming male clad in his royal blue tunic and dark trousers, polished black boots and the broad belt that forever sat a little crooked because he tightened it in haste.

    His short golden hair always shone beneath the sun, and there was that smile — that easy, lopsided smile that had made everyone adore him.

    He had always looked so impossibly proper, right up until he grinned. Then the image shattered and he became simply Evan again. Teasing. Charming. Entirely too fond of stealing pastries from the kitchen and claiming it was his sacred duty to ensure they weren’t poisoned.

    She could still hear his laugh rumble through a room. How he was the only one who could convince Kushiana to ease up a little. The way the princess’s eyes lit up every time he crossed the distance between them and picked her up. Uliya, Zir and Luminara had often watched them together and talked amongst themselves about how much he adored her.

    She could still see the way he stood half a step behind her, as though protecting her had become second nature.

    And now he was gone. The rest of the world had moved on from him without even knowing the truth.

    Luminara’s eyes stung. There was a flicker of anger in them as she looked up at Zir again. He tried to wipe her tears but she slapped his hand away. “How could you keep this a secret, Zir? He was innocent. Your sister’s true love. Did you not think of Kushiana at all?”

    The prince dipped his head in shame. Tears descended his own cheek as well. “I couldn’t bring myself to. I know I should have. I still should. But I discovered this two weeks after he’d already been buried, and Kushiana was so grief stricken she wasn’t talking, eating or moving, Lume. If she found out then, she would have been completely shattered. You know how much she looks up to Father. I was worried she might do something to herself.”

    Luminara dipped her head back in frustration before rising. “Fuck!” She yelled. The crystal figurine sitting on top of the desk was thrown against the wall, shattering splinters across the floor.

    Zir didn’t react or attempt to calm her down. The prince of stars may have made some bad calls, but he was still sensible enough to know — you don’t try to calm a female forged with the twin moon’s potency.

    Especially when you were the reason behind the eruption.

    She settled beside him again and picked up her balm jar from the center table, inhaling the scent to steady herself. After a few minutes of breathing she finally looked toward him. Zir hadn’t moved at all, his gaze still lowered.

    “Zir.” She began softly. “I am so—” She stopped. Eyes widened. “Oh no!”

    “What happened?” Zir replied in confusion.

    She turned sideways. “Demiurge help me, a crystal shard has lodged itself in the nape of your neck. You’re bleeding! Why didn’t you say anything?”

    “Oh.” He straightened and pulled it out from behind his neck without thinking, then shrugged. “It’ll heal. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

    The moonborn clicked her tongue. “You are such a moron. Stay still.” She quickly got up and stood beside him, inspecting the gash. Soon some vials and herbs were brought out, along with a bandage.

    Zir frowned. “Is a bandage necessary? Didn’t you already clean it and fill it with the ointment?”

    Luminara smiled sarcastically before replying with a straight face. “Not if I kill you with my own hands right now. Then it won’t be.”

    He scoffed and looked ahead again, letting her work. 

    As she calmly worked her way around cutting the bandage to a smaller size the realization slowly settled inside the moonborn, he’d sat in silence so that she could take a moment to come to terms with her own grief and let the feelings out. It made her happy and grateful when she learnt that Zir had gone out of his way to pick the ring for her. But right now, she felt an unfamiliar emotion rise towards him. It made her wonder if Lena and Uliya’s comments this morning weren’t all that far-fetched.

    “Lume, please don’t gather a large fragment of that bandage. Ilias already thinks of me as a weak princeling. He would tease me mercilessly when we train again.” Zir said with a huff and she laughed.

    “It doesn’t help that your neck just so happens to be your frail point, does it?” 

    “What!? That’s how he’s been defeating me? That sneaky commander. I will-”

    He doesn’t complete the rest of the sentence as the moonborn leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek, finally rendering the chronic complainer speechless. 

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 13 – Early Birds Get Caught In A Storm

    The bloodline I originate from was blessed neither with wealth nor extraordinary magical abilities, only the gifts common to the average Fyrge. We were a comfortable family at best. I joined the army upon turning eighteen and spent the next decade earning the rank of general, moving mountains to survive amongst men while dismantling every prejudice our world so readily cast upon a woman’s strength. During the previous war, I shielded the king in the fleeting moment his guard had faltered. A poisoned arrow pierced straight through my heart. I remained unconscious for three days before awakening to find the Sun God in all his glory, his hand upon my forehead. He took mine, restored my life in a single heartbeat, and vanished.

    By then, I had already been declared dead, my funeral underway. They later realized that an Ascendant God had resurrected me and bestowed upon me abilities beyond those I had been born with. The war had already been won by the time I returned. What awaited me was neither a relic, a higher title, nor a chest of treasure. It was the king, on one knee, a ring extended in his hand.

    Signed by Helena Marie Rigmundt-Valhades, Queen of Citrindally

    — The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall of Learning

    The Neverandall Keep occupied much of the palace’s eastern wing, divided into three sections — the rectangular training hall, the ample verandah outside, and the vast vertical climbing chamber that stretched four storeys high. The walls of the climbing chamber were covered with protruding obsidian stones, allowing the royals to hone their climbing, levitation and, in rarer cases, hiking abilities.

    The floor was not the smooth marble found throughout the rest of the palace but rather a layered variety of blackwood stone. On it currently stood the youngest Valhades in her newly acquired grey satin cropped tunic and trousers, rubbing at her own forehead.

    “You said we would start tomorrow, Nara. Why are you subjecting me to cruelty today?” She complained with a pout.

    In front of her, Luminara hung by her feet from suspensions emerging from the ceiling, clad in a fitted white shirt and black leggings, practicing her slow descent after levitating all the way to the top. Her neatly tied long braid floated some seven feet above the ground.

    “Because you have not practiced in a long while and today is simply for fixing your sleeping schedule and warming up.” She answered casually, her arms emitting light in slow flowing waves of gold as she made her way down.

    “My head is splitting. I had red liqueur last night. It is six in the morning. Even Yer is still asleep.” Uliya said with a sigh, proceeding to pour water directly into her mouth from the large pitcher. Luminara had taken one look at her entering the threshold and immediately called for it.

    “What a beautifully sombre poem. Unfortunately I do not care for it. We are here to get you fit again.” Luminara said, flipping and stepping down neatly before her braid could touch the floor. Before Uliya could complain further she put a finger to her mouth and snatched the pitcher from her, downing the rest of the water. The princess rose up slowly. “Fine, but don’t wear me out.”

    Luminara grinned fiendishly “First time demanding that from a female, isn’t it?” Only a respectful finger was raised up in response, garnering a bright laugh from the moonborn. 

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    It was a little late in the morning, when Zir came back to his chamber from his training session and began tightening his leathers again. Cecil was perched atop the table sorting through his correspondence per usual. 

    The raven glanced back. “You’re not going to change into something proper? You’re seeing the female that broke your heart after almost a decade.” 

    He turned down the idea with a slight wave of his hand, while gulping down his morning coffee and stuffing his face with the breakfast platter he’d already had sent to his chamber. 

    “Why not?” Cecil turned around fully. 

    “It does not matter, Cecil. We’re no longer the same people. I’m just making sure we’re in and out of there fast enough without anybody noticing.” He replied hurriedly, his mouth full of bread. 

    “Are you sure there’s no lingering feelings? I’m only asking because you still are helping her despite knowing what’s at stake. You do not owe her anything.”

    He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “I think I know how I feel without you instructing me about it.”

    Cecil sighed, turning back to the letters. “Someone’s in a mood, did Ilias make you taste dirt today.”

    “No, but he defeated me in battle-brief combat again. I haven’t won once. I don’t know how he’s doing it. It’s driving me nuts.” Battle brief combat is the segment of sparring that completely forbids all magic usage. It is considered essential for all Royals and soldiers to master it in case their magic happens to be compromised, so that they aren’t left vulnerable. 

    “Was he winning from the starting, or all of a sudden towards the end?” Cecil asked, his focus remaining on stamping Zir’s own correspondence. 

    “All of a sudden towards the end. And he moves extraordinarily fast too, I don’t know what final moves he makes before pinning me down. I suspected he grabbed me by the waist the first day, the second day I thought it was the foreleg, today I assumed the shoulder. But it’s extremely hard to track his ghost of a touch.” The prince said the last part of the sentence with complete irritation. 

    “He’s targeting your frail points most likely.” The blue raven replied with nonchalance and Zir swallowed the last bite of loose egg fast before bursting out “What frail points? I have frail points!?” 

    “Every Fyrge does, the bodies are not so different from humans in the making after all. Frail points are unique to every Fyrge, and it’s not easy to identify them. But you can learn to scan other’s movements with your eyes and learn about them. It’s visible in the way a person does normal activities like how they move their hand while eating, their gait, or the way they sleep or how their posture is in general. It takes time to learn them. Ilias certainly mastered them and is using them on you. That’s why you are able to be a worthy opponent to Hinjk even but not the commander.

    Zir took a moment to think then almost as if speaking to himself, he said softly “Yeah that does make sense, he’s generally great with observations anyway. Regardless, I should learn it too. It might come handy someday.”

    “It would.” Was all the blue raven offered in response. 

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    “Oh sweet dame, it warms my heart how little you trust me.” Caelen offered the words with a dramatic tsk tsk, feigning sadness. It had been less than ten seconds since he had stepped out of the thriving blue portal, clad in a loose lavender shirt, black trousers and a long grey coat. His hair caught the silver of the morning sun.

    Kushiana stood directly before him, covered in a flowing ebony dress with long lace sleeves, delicate silver jewellery at her neck and ears, her brown hair arranged in its usual braided crown. She knew he was referring to the trunk she had packed regardless of his reassurances in the letter. She remained entirely unbothered, simply gesturing for Agnes to perch on her shoulder. The phoenix had gone for an early morning hunt, citing the Dewy Tors as having the finest prey at this hour. She had found some right behind them by the nearest tree — though the same could not be said for the unfortunate frog she had gripped in her talons minutes ago.

    Caelen shrugged, accustomed to being dismissed by now. But he used his own palm magic to lift the trunk from the rock before Kushiana could reach it. The Northern High Prince rarely wavered when it came to hospitality. It was a shame he did not get many opportunities to exercise it.

    “Come.” He said, wrapping his free hand around Kushiana’s and pulling them both into the portal.

    To her surprise, they stepped out somewhere that resembled a home far more than his rustic escapist cabin. A villa — she could tell that much from where they stood in the middle of a spacious living room. She could hear the chatter of people on the street outside. She moved toward the large glass window and looked out.

    The villa sat atop a mountain, a straight snow-covered road ahead leading down into the city. More houses lined the opposite side, and from here she could see almost all of Xerat — or what she presumed was most of it. It was extraordinarily thrilling to lay eyes on a land otherwise forbidden to the rest of Fyrgen. The buildings were far more colourful and quaint than anything in Citrindally — purple, emerald, saffron, cobalt blue, rust — the colours varied so widely she could not have counted them if she tried. Lush pine, rhododendron, cherry, apple, cedar and juniper trees thrived in the mild winter sun. Snow glistened everywhere.

    Curiosity got the better of Kushiana and she was about to turn to ask Caelen when Agnes beat her to it. “How is it that there is snow everywhere but none on the rooftops or terraces?”

    Caelen crossed the room and pointed toward a towering black spire rising from the heart of the city. Orange-red vapour billowed from the colossal chimney at its peak, a visible glow emanating from within even at this distance.

    “We call that the Pyreheart,” he said. “All Xerakeets are born with warmth flowing through their veins, but most carry only enough to keep themselves — and perhaps one other — comfortable. So each citizen offers a sliver of their gift to the gleaming stone housed within the tower. The stone amplifies what it receives and sends the warmth coursing through channels beneath the streets, walls, rooftops and terraces of every home in Xerat. That is why snow never lingers where people live.”

    Agnes blinked. “So the entire city shares its warmth?”

    “Exactly.” Caelen replied. “One hearth for all.”

    Kushiana let the rest of their conversation fade and simply continued to stare, feeling as though she could stand there forever. Xerat was the most visually beautiful sight she had ever laid eyes on.

    It was only when the frost prince tapped gently at the side of her head that she surfaced. “What?” She turned to him.

    “I asked if you would like to start with an early lunch at the Central before we proceed.” He repeated with a smile that betrayed his own pleasure at seeing her respond to his home this way.

    She nodded. “Yes. But let me change into something warmer first.”

    Caelen turned on his heel. “Follow me, I had a room prepared for you.” He began walking down the long well-lit hallway without further comment. As they walked Kushiana noticed how well built his back looked through the thin fabric of the shirt. She did not let her eyes linger. Agnes was perched directly on her shoulder. She could not afford to be teased again.

    The carpet beneath their feet was deep red cashmere of high quality. As they moved through the hallway they passed a beautiful spiral staircase of oakwood with intricate carvings running all the way up its banister. No family portraits hung anywhere except for a single large one on the mantelpiece. Kushiana stopped.

    It was Caelen as a child, seated, with an attractive male standing behind him — just as tall as the frost prince, dressed in a well-fitted white and blue military suit with black gloves. His eyes were the most striking shade of lavender she had ever seen, almost hypnotic. She could not look away.

    Caelen had walked considerably ahead before he noticed no one was following and turned back. He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “As much as I enjoy watching you ogle my late father, we do have a schedule.”

    The words broke the spell immediately. A traitorous warmth bloomed across Kushiana’s face. She lowered her gaze and began walking again.

    “Commander Thrymcrag was a titanically handsome male.” Agnes added with full enthusiasm from her shoulder.

    Kushiana facepalmed.

    Caelen erupted in laughter ahead of them.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Uliya lay flat on the grass, making no movement whatsoever.

    “You barely did stretching, breathing exercises and a short sprint, yet you are behaving as though I have killed you.” Luminara said, pouting from beside her, munching on a bright red apple.

    “Are you certain it is not my ghost speaking to you right now?” The golden-head murmured, face buried in the grass.

    “Fairly certain. It has only been two hours.” Yer added from atop the gargoyle fountain in the corner of the verandah. She had joined them an hour ago, having woken on Uliya’s usual schedule now that they were back in Citrindally.

    “Yer, I have always wondered how Zir could throw things at Cecil so freely. If you keep speaking, the two of us might find out together.” Uliya said, shooting the dove a murderous look over her shoulder.

    “I will remain demure.” Yer pleaded immediately.

    Luminara burst out laughing at the memory of Zir quietly building Cecil a swing of his own accord. “He and Cecil seemed to be getting along perfectly well last night actually.”

    Uliya’s head whipped around. “Did Zir stay the night with you? Demiurge help me, what did the two of you do?” She did not wait for an answer and jumped up. “Nara! Why did you not tell me before? Do you not consider me your little sister anymore? You have changed.” The death stare was alarming, mostly because it was so rare on her face.

    “Relax, Ul. We were simply discussing the Noctilune Ball.” Luminara replied, nearly choking on her bite.

    “In your sheets!?”

    “Demiurge, no. On the sofa. What is the great issue?”

    Uliya scoffed and sat down, right at her eye level. “The great issue? I have been waiting years for the two of you to fall in love and be together. It is absolutely crucial for my sanity.”

    The moonborn rolled her eyes. “Then I suppose you can bid it farewell. That is not  happening. We are best friends.”

    “A quiet tragedy.” Yer added with a tsk tsk.

    “Right?” Uliya asked.

    Luminara pushed her away with a light tap of her palm to her forehead. “If you are done being insufferable, we have a whole day ahead. What do you want to do?”

    Uliya picked herself up. “Mama wants us to dine with her for lunch. After that I think we should go shopping — I have missed the boutiques in Terracinder terribly. And we could go to your favourite coffee place after. What was it called again? Argh, I cannot remember.”

    “Miltine. And yes to all of it. We will have a wonderful time.” Luminara answered with a grin. She did not say it out loud, but she was quietly touched that Uliya had remembered. When she first came to the palace she had not found it easy to let anyone in beyond Zir and Lena. But Uliya had won her heart quickly. She had been the most endearing five year old, and Luminara — who had never had any siblings even before the tragedy — had gravitated toward her naturally, doting on her beyond reason. She had been genuinely heartbroken when she learned Uliya was leaving with Zir. The two weeks after their departure had been colourless. She had never mentioned it in her letters though. They would only have fussed.

    As if reading her mind, Uliya pulled her into a tight hug. “Yes, of course we will. I love you.”

    “I love you too, Ul.” Luminara said, lightly caressing the back of her head.

    Their quiet moment was interrupted by one of the household maids, who sauntered over and bowed deeply before the two.

    “I come bearing a message for my lady, from his royal highness. Along with this.”

    She leaned in and handed Luminara a folded piece of paper and a small but heavy drawstring pouch. Luminara thanked her and she left. She unfolded the paper and read without bothering about Uliya and Yer having immediately directed their full attention to its contents.

    “Got the herb pack, moonbug — thank you. As promised, here are your rubies, and a little something I thought you might like. See you this evening.”

    She smiled and opened the pouch. On top of the rubies — which were, by the way, clearly more than twenty — sat a ring of platinum, a large glossy pink opal stone set at its centre.

    Luminara could not take her eyes off it as she turned it between her fingers. It was positively sublime.

    “Majestic!” Yer cooed.

    “They are just friends, Yer. Mine hardly buy me potato chips, but I suppose we all define friendship differently. Do we not, Nara darling?” Uliya said, tilting her head with full taunt.

    Luminara kept smiling at the ring and replied without looking up. “You want to die young?”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Zir emerged through the living maze of vines and roots, making his way toward the agreed meeting spot. Wards had been built around the Havburth cabin in the Lejonet Woods through resistance magic by the Council members. The Havburths had pleaded to at least be permitted to roam the entirety of Lejonet freely, and a compromise had been reached — they could move through the whole forest but could not leave its boundaries. No other Fyrge could walk more than a hundred steps in the direction of the cabin.

    Cecil, perched on his shoulder, silently pulled twigs and leaves from Zir’s hair with his beak.

    “Why am I suddenly craving an apple?” Zir muttered, continuing toward the paint-marked Banyan tree. Iveleh had told him she would use violet paint on the leaves so he could identify it from above. He could not use palm magic to travel inside Lejonet and had been forced to stop at the entrance.

    “You can always have one when we are back. That is, if we are not killed here by your past lover’s traitorous, power-hungry family.” Cecil said matter-of-factly.

    Zir scoffed. “You are clearly determined not to trust me, Cecil. But factually speaking, their magic does not function here. Mine does.” They were now walking through a more open area with fewer trees. For a moment Zir wondered if the Havburths had cleared some — it seemed suspiciously sparse.

    “When will you understand, Zir — it is not you I do not trust.” The blue raven offered with a sigh, and Zir halted.

    “I am being as cautious as I can. Please do not say anything unkind to her.”

    “What if I said hello sweetly and then pecked her eyes out?”

    “Cecil.”

    “Fine. I will not mince my words. But I will gladly stay silent if that is what you prefer.” Cecil replied, turning his head the other direction.

    He had been unhappy from the very beginning when it came to Zir and Sylveline. Had said he would end up hurt. Zir had followed his heart regardless and ended up precisely in the rut Cecil predicted. Even this morning the prince had told him he did not have to come if he did not want to. “Of course I do not want to. But your safety is my primary concern. It is a companion’s duty to accompany their royal in such circumstances,” was all Cecil had said before perching on Zir’s shoulder.

    They walked the remaining path in silence, and Zir found himself glad of the company. Even if he would not show it. Even he had doubts about Sylveline’s intentions, though he kept that to himself.

    He found her sitting atop a stone bench, facing a small field of blooming sunflowers. A simple pink cotton tunic and brown trousers. Her long silver hair fell in straight tresses down her back. Her familiar rosy scent reached him through the cool wind and nostalgia rose up before he could stop it. Cecil slipped silently onto the branch of the willow above them.

    “Were you waiting long?” The prince said softly, one hand resting against the bark of the tree beside him. Sylveline turned slowly. Her pale green, round eyes widened with surprise, a wide smile crossing her heart-shaped face.

    “Ziruth!” She exclaimed, and came to him immediately, pulling him into a tight hug.

    He noticed she had grown taller and leaner — not unhealthily so. But it broke something quiet in him to see her in such plain garb. The Havburths had built an empire of their own. Sylveline had always worn jewellery and lush gowns.

    When she let go he looked at her face. Still beautiful, but without the rouge and dusted eyelids he had always known her in. He felt it settle somewhere in his chest. But he kept his expression neutral. Sylveline would not take well to being pitied. She had always had too much pride for that.

    “Zir, you have grown into such a fine gentleman. And wait — are those muscles?” She added with a dramatic gasp and he laughed despite himself.

    “Yes. A decade turned out to be sufficient.”

    She nodded sincerely, redirecting her gaze from his leather-clad upper body to his face. “Impressive. Shall we sit?”

    “Yes. Let us.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Once Caelen had shown Kushiana to her en suite — complete with a lit marble fireplace and a full armoire of winter clothes — she had selected a pale yellow turtleneck sweater and long walnut suede trousers with a slight flare, paired with a loose black overcoat that hung softly from her broad shoulders and matching black boots.

    “Is that armoire filled with entirely new clothes?” Kushiana asked once she stepped out and found him waiting at the stained glass entryway. The implication was clear — had the Northern High Prince actually gone out and bought Kushiana new clothes for a two day visit? He himself had thrown on a heavy gray overcoat that was purely aesthetic. He had no need for extra warmth.

    He smirked. “Obviously. Why else would I have clothes in your exact size hanging in a spare room?”

    The Valhades heir narrowed her eyes immediately. “I do not think Kushiana trusts you.” Agnes offered plainly from her shoulder, wearing a tiny embroidered woollen scarf around her neck.

    He shrugged. “Understandable, sweet phoenix. But I simply enjoy shopping. Would it really harm her highness to say thank you and accept graciously?”

    Agnes nudged her beak gently against the side of Kushiana’s head in response. Kushiana sighed and produced a reluctant smile. “Fine. Thank you, Caelen. Can we go now?”

    He grinned. It was the first time she had said his name out loud.

    “Now we can.”

    He knew her well enough to know she would prefer walking downhill to the market over travelling through the portal. He slowed to match her pace.

    Kushiana continued to take in the thriving highland settlement below as they descended. She seemed to welcome the slight chill in the air. For a brief moment Caelen could have sworn he caught the hint of a genuine smile cross her face as she looked upon the frozen Fountain of Tyrellah — the goddess worshipped only in Xerat — standing at the heart of the Central.

    Sculpted entirely from white onyx, the statue depicted the goddess with her long tresses trailing into the waters below. A kettle rested in her hand, symbolising the creation of her own life pool. Before the fountain stood a matching podium carved from the same stone, a plate of gold bearing the words Ire Milyn Siv engraved upon it.

    Kushiana and Agnes turned toward Caelen instinctively.

    “It is written in Xerlin,” he said. “It translates roughly to: You are a finite being with infinite potential to create. The goddess depicted is Tyrellah. We worship her alongside Demiurge here.” 

    Her eyes gleamed. “Beautiful,” she said softly, before turning back to the path ahead.

    They continued in comfortable silence. Soup and snack carts, flower stalls and fruit sellers lined either side of the cobblestoned path. A light fog drifted through, making everything lovelier. They walked until the cobblestones gave way to the main arena, where the restaurants, coffee shops, boutiques and tome stores were gathered.

    It was only when Caelen said “We are here” that she stopped. They stood before a set of massive mahogany double doors with white trim, two guards stationed on either side.

    “What is this?” Kushiana asked.

    “My preferred dining experience in Xerat.” He answered with a grin. The guards bowed politely and pulled the sliding doors open.

    Kushiana’s breath caught. The restaurant was unlike anything she had seen in Citrindally — not because of the luxurious furnishings, she was accustomed to those. It was the glass. Floor to ceiling panels spanning the entire wall opposite, offering an unobstructed view of the snow-covered mountains beyond. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving entirely.

    Caelen nudged her forward with a subtle tap at her back.

    “Pretty females first.”

    Once they had entered, a tall lean waitress clad in black overalls and grey turtleneck along with a white lace apron greeted them. Her skin was glowing with a naturally pink undertone and her long golden hair fell into a braid. Kushiana found herself fascinated by the unique beauty of the Xerakeets.

    “Would you prefer to be seated at your usual spot, Caelen?” She asked the prince with an easy smile. Kushiana found the absence of honorifics interesting.

    “Yes, thank you Darcina.” He responded pleasantly and the female led them towards the end of the hallway and through a large door at the end.

    Soon they found themselves seated in a sister dining room to the one they had been in before. But this one was a sunroom. The sunlight was peeking in through the large glass ceiling. They sat at the singular large round blackwood table in the center, on it rested exquisitely handcrafted heavy china and cutlery, along with a tall bottle of wine that Kushiana could not place. Caelen saw her eyes linger momentarily and answered of his own accord.

    “It’s called roseweed wine, made using a rare variety of rosehip, plums and fireweed.”

    She nodded with understanding.

    “What would you like to have?” The charismatic waitress asked, pen and notebook ready in her hand.

    “If you could give us a moment? I’d like to convene with my guest first.”

    “Sure. Give me a ring.” She bowed respectfully and left.

    They both picked up their menu cards at the same time, famished from their long walk. Agnes flew towards the large peeking maple tree branch that emerged from an open tile in the corner.

    “So my sweet dame, what are you craving? Sweet or savoury.”

    “Stop calling me that and savoury it is. What’s glistening oatmeal curry?”

    He pulled his card below eye level and shot her a narrowed gaze. “Seriously? You skipped over all the sweet breakfast options and went straight to the boring ones.”

    She mirrored the gesture. “It’s almost brunch time. And do you pick everything for your guests from clothes to breakfast?”

    “I wouldn’t have picked something that comfortable for you.” He replied with a lopsided smirk.

    She scoffed with disdain. “You’re disgusting. Answer my primary question.”

    He laughed but regained his composure quickly. “It’s oatmeal blended with a herb we have called Sanderthill. It has a rice-like sheen and is hand beaten into a paste. Then put in with a stew-like curry with caramelised mushrooms, garlic, asparagus, roasted chicken and leek. It’s creamy with a mild spice level.”

    She nodded. “Sounds delicious. I’ll have this with a green salad.”

    “Alright. I’ll tell you my usual — a greasy stack of thick cocoa butter pancakes, chicken sausages, cloudy eggs with a side of sautéed vegetables and avocado cream cheese rice balls.”

    Kushiana was tempted for a moment but gulped it down. “Okay great.”

    He leaned back, gasping. “For my sake Kushiana, try one thing that isn’t borderline healthy. You are my guest. I feel horrid. This could easily be a vacation from your duties if you let it be.”

    She crossed her arms and whispered, a tinge of worry visible on her forehead. “Normally people don’t intend to take vacations with an underlying intent of stealing valuable gems, Caelen.”

    “It’s not stealing. I am lending it to you after I steal it.” He whispered back, then cleared his throat. “And there is no need to whisper. This is my private space.”

    “Fine. I’ll keep my order but I’ll try some from your massive unhealthy one.” She replied softly with a tinge of reluctance.

    He winked. “Perfect, along with two glasses of wine. Now tell me what will your phoenix eat?”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 12 – The Reimagining of Inevitable Doom

    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.

    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.

    — The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall Of Learning

    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. 

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 11 – Unrequited Love, A Thrall Of Its Own

    Let it be known to everyone that I prefer females and I do not intend to be discreet about it. Also I am yet to meet the one.

    — Princess Uliya Van Larsson of House Valhades, Personal Accounts of the Valhades Heirs, The Great Hall Of Learning

    The morning light had not yet appeared, but the world already felt heavy for Uliya. It was only the second day back in Fyrgen and she felt so disconnected from everything and everyone. The enormous palace seemed more like a cage than her tiny cabin in the human lands ever had. She felt disoriented. Fyrgen seemed to be reminding her of everything she had either outgrown or left behind. Even her magic did not feel the same back here. She wanted to ask Luminara to train her but at the same time wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

    She had not slept at all. Slowly she sat up in her large bed and looked to her right, finding Yer fast asleep in the small built-in bed attached to the wall — the Council had them installed in every room for the bird companions. It was a replica of a nest but made entirely of hardened glossy oakwood, with material magic that rendered the inside soft and cosy. Companions followed the same sleeping schedule as their royals, so Yer would not be up for another four hours.

    She sighed. If only she could slip into her mother’s bed the way she used to as a child. Her father always complained about it. She never understood why back then — wondered how her small frame could possibly make any difference in their large bed. She knew better now. But Lena had always welcomed her with immense warmth in those memories, even when she mildly disrupted her sleeping schedule. Uliya had never forgotten that. Not for a single day. Her mother was the only one who understood her completely, who could look at her face once and know exactly what she was thinking. That had not changed, she had seen it yesterday. But her mother felt oddly distant all the same, and she could not place why. Lena would never pull away from Uliya intentionally. Which meant something was on her mind. She needed to find out what.

    The thoughts were exhausting and the sleep-deprived princess could bear no more of them. So she decided to settle for the next most available mildly loving person in the palace.

    She used the shared staircase connecting their balconies and was already standing in the middle of Zir’s room before she fully registered it. Of course the smug idiot left the latch undone, convinced he was the most dangerous thing in any given vicinity. She scoffed and crossed to his bedside to find him in deep sleep, drooling into the pillow. It was actually nice to see his face relaxed for once. Not for long though. She shook him lightly and Zir shot up immediately.

    “What? Who died?” Confusion and displeasure lit his face.

    “No one. I came to ask if I can sleep in your bed.”

    He stared at the window once. Then squinted back at her, voice hoarse and annoyed.

    “Over my dead body. Why are you even here?”

    She shrugged. “I feel horrible alone in my room and I cannot sleep beside Mother. So scoot.”

    He rolled his eyes and relented with a scoff. “I am not scooting. Go to that side. And stay there. If I find you moving even an inch toward me you will be the answer to the who died question.”

    She grinned sarcastically, then went and lay on the far side. And immediately felt better. Because even if she would never admit it, her older brother’s presence alone soothes her in ways she cannot fully explain. Never mind the constant arrogance and the absence of visible affection.

    Zir glanced back once to find her lightly snoring under the blanket, then turned back onto his side, his face settling into something relieved. Glad, quietly, that she would finally get some sleep.

    And just like that, the newly reappointed heirs finally rested without worry. Because they knew that as long as they had each other, they would find a way through.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    To the sweetest dame in all of Citrindally,

    I have made the arrangements needed for your stay. I will be waiting near our usual spot by sunrise tomorrow. Refraining from writing the whole sequence of events I have planned for the two days. Do not bother with anything else, just pack your phoenix and come along.

    With love, C

    Zir could feel one of those terrible headaches rising again. Who writes like that anymore? He wondered how his sister could have such abysmal taste when it came to picking a lover. 

    “Cecil.” He called out.

    Zir had been sorting through his morning correspondence when he came across the letter — Cecil had clearly fetched it from Kushiana’s pile by accident. He would have left it unopened but the outer envelope had been slightly torn, causing him to mistake the K for a Z.

    His companion flew in at once. “Yes?”

    He held the letter out. “You accidentally brought me something from Kushiana’s pile. It is a K, not a Z.”

    Cecil examined the outer envelope briefly. “My mistake. I will take it back to Agnes.”

    “Wait. Were you aware of her seeing someone?” Zir said, rubbing his forehead.

    “No. Does she even have the time? She is always occupied with something.”

    “Well in the letter—”

    “Demiurge help you, Zir. You lack so much romance in your own life that you have started invading your sister’s privacy and living vicariously through hers. These are the signs of a cynic retreating entirely from any prospect of happiness. Why don’t you go to the local tavern and buy someone a drink?” Cecil continued at length, until Zir turned slowly to face him with the most murderous expression ever directed at a living creature.

    That is when the blue raven noticed the steaming cup of tea on the prince’s desk.

    “I apologise, your highness. Let me not delay you any further with my unsolicited wisdom. I will see myself out.” The words came out in a near whisper of politeness before he vacated the chamber at considerable speed.

    Zir sorted through the remaining letters in silence. Eventually he found one from Slyveline. He had already written back to inform her when the medicine would be ready. In this one she did not push further about why he had not asked Lena to permit the Havburths back into Citrindally for the treatment. She simply noted the meeting point. He knew his parents well enough to understand what this would cost him if they found out — not only the letter itself, but the fact that he had continued corresponding with Slyveline after the Council ordered the family’s exile years ago. Even the mention of their name was now forbidden in Fyrgen. Lena would be furious. Kiev would call him unfit to lead and spend the next week pitying him. And in his heart, Zir had his own flicker of doubt about Slyveline — had carried it quietly since she broke him. Sometimes he even despised himself for still giving her access to him after everything she had put him through. But matters of the heart are a wretched thing. They can seldom be buried against their will.

    He sighed and sipped his herbal tea in an attempt to ease the tension still building at his temple. Only two days back in Citrindally and he already had more places to be than hours to fill them. Today alone: physical training with Ilias, a Council meeting around noon, a bookshop opening in the city square he had to inaugurate, self-practice for the still unpredictable supernova abilities, then visits to several households in the southern Quaser to check on their needs. He had taken these up instinctively from Kushiana, who had managed them single-handedly while he and Uliya were away. He would have asked Uliya to take a single lane from his share, but he did not want to burden her so soon after coming back. She was his younger sister.

    The only part of the day he was genuinely looking forward to was dinner. It was with Luminara.

    Once the correspondence was sorted, the prince realised the throbbing at his temple had gone. He felt considerably lighter. He got up from his desk and walked through to his bedchamber to find Uliya still deep in sleep, the weighted blanket half fallen off the bed.

    He gently pushed her toward the centre and covered her fully before leaving for training.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    By the time Uliya woke to Yer’s cooing the room was already empty. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “Where is Zir?” she asked, half aware of the time.

    “He got up and left at his usual morning hour. It is almost noon now. And your mother had to cancel your supper plans with her — the Whiteglens are visiting this afternoon.” Yer added. The Whiteglens are one of the noble families.

    “The Whiteglens? Why all of a sudden?” She asked, dragging herself out of bed and pulling on her fur slippers.

    “Their youngest son appears to be missing. He has been gone for two nights. At first they assumed he was sleeping off a night out at some pal’s place, given his reputation. But all of them claim they never saw him.” Yer continued, now perched on Uliya’s shoulder as the princess made her way back down the shared staircase to her own room.

    “Oh, that sounds horrible. Hopefully he will make an appearance soon.” Uliya added with dull sympathy, well aware of the masculine’s perversion stories that Kushiana had told her about. Her sister had heard them from two different females in the village during her bi-annual visits to the villagers’ homes, and the first thing she had done upon returning was warn Uliya to steer clear of him. Though Uliya was fairly certain a warning had also been directed at him afterwards, her older sister hardly took matters concerning the safety of females in Citrindally lightly.

    Yer nodded as they entered the bedchamber, as though Uliya could see her, then burst out with a cheer that nearly threatened the princess’s hearing. “Oh, Uliya! I completely forgot! you have correspondence from your friends.”

    Uliya tilted her head slightly, gently lifted the dove from her shoulder and placed her on the desk opposite the bed.

    “Well, let us hear this ear-collapsing correspondence then.” She said, rubbing her forehead.

    The dove continued with unceasing exhilaration. “Kira, Smith and Daphne have demanded you make an appearance at your usual spot under the tree. Otherwise they will consider you disengaged and boring after your time away from Fyrgen.”

    Uliya narrowed her eyes slightly. “Are you certain those are the words they used, Yer?”

    Yer glanced around out of habit to make sure nobody was listening, then whispered, “Cocky and inherently bitchy, actually,” leading Uliya to burst out laughing.

    “Demiurge help me, I really missed those cocksuckers.”

    “That is blasphemous, Ul.” Yer cried in her usual moral fashion.

    The princess simply shrugged. “Not if I am merely being descriptive about their favourite activities.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    A collection of items lay spread across the oldest Valhades heir’s chamber — black stone figurines, wall hangings, pillar candles, jewellery trays, pottery bowls, lacquered boxes of every shape and size, and perfumes. It is sometime in the afternoon. Agnes sorts through correspondence at the large sleek whitewood desk.

    As a child, Kushiana had always been cautious. Of those around her in the palace, of the council members, of those existing beyond the continent’s walls. She had known her parents shared a bond far too seamless to be entirely authentic. She had known she needed to protect her siblings. And she had known she never wanted to be queen. All of this at the mere age of five.

    Unlike her brother and sister she had never taken to reading or writing. Both were too distracting, too likely to give the swirling thoughts in her head more room than they deserved. She had found her safe haven in movement instead. Walking, running, rearranging the decorations of her chamber in the oddly specific configurations she found comforting, hopping across cobblestones in the palace gardens with the wains she liked from the noble families. Anything to quiet the relentless running of her mind.

    But most of all she found pleasure in dancing. She felt most herself when her body moved to a rhythm. Her favourite sequence was the Snowfall Sway — a series of gentle, folded movements that gradually unfurled until her arms opened wide at the end, perfectly imitating the first drifting snowflake, performed in a fitted white dress. She was present and entirely herself in those moments, and to her they felt endless. Elegance had always come to her naturally, even as a child. She wore it without thinking.

    She had never been the smiling heir. Her gorgeously high cheekbones and thick brown hair had always been complemented by a slightly disinterested frown, and she had never seen any reason to hide it.

    At five and a half, Kushiana met her royal companion Agnes and immediately wondered how she had ever managed the years before without her. In the middle of fulfilling a standard royal tradition she had accidentally found her closest friend. Whether in endless conversation or comfortable silence, the two always managed to meet each other halfway.

    “You should let the maids handle that, Kush.” Agnes advises, knowing full well it will be ignored. She knows that when Kushiana’s thoughts begin to spiral she either throws herself into physical training or starts rearranging some corner of her large chamber — bed, bathing, ante, private dining or study. Today it is the items around the armoire and jewellery shelf that have been lucky enough to receive her attention.

    Kushiana smirks. “Good idea, Aggy. Shall I attempt to redirect some of my fast-pacing thoughts their way as well.” She says casually, clearly in no mood to be advised.

    Agnes rolls her small eyes and returns to writing responses per Kushiana’s instructions. “Oh, earlier while you were in the bathing chamber, Nysleon came by to mention that three new candidates are eager to be your prime lady in waiting. You should speak to them this evening and decide for yourself.”

    Kushiana dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Have them decide among themselves for now. Nobody will quickly replace the comfort I had with Katherine. I will be guarded for a long time before I accept whoever comes next.” Her lady in waiting Katherine had recently resigned, citing her grandmother’s deteriorating health, and returned to her village near Zephridge. Kushiana had been reluctant to let her go but understood the concern. She had sent her off with a box of gold coins to ensure her family’s comfort.

    “What did you tell Hinjk and your parents?” Agnes asks, without looking up.

    “About what?” Kushiana responds, mentally occupied with sorting her rings by size and stone into a large glass box.

    “About the clandestine two day visit we are taking with the frost prince.” The red phoenix cooed with deliberate teasing, and for once Kushiana could not hold back a snort.

    “That we are visiting my old friend Deadre in Monville.”

    Agnes cocked her head. “Who is Deadre?”

    “I have no idea. I made the name up. They were not particularly interested in the details anyway. It is not as though they ever suspect me of lying or doing anything wrong.”

    The teasing continued. “And are you planning to do anything wrong, my precious princess? Or anyone?”

    “Aggy! The correspondence, please!” Kushiana exclaimed, a warmth making its way up her cheeks.

    And then she stopped noticing whether Agnes got back to it at all. Because all she could think of was Caelen’s strong jaw and his gleaming silver-lavender gaze, and for a moment her treacherous thoughts wandered toward his lips.

    She only started arranging the rings faster.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    At supper time, Uliya ate happily with Yer in her privy hall. Since Kushiana had refused to come out of her chamber stating she was busy with organization. Uliya knew better than to ask questions, she was well aware of how meticulous Kushiana is while rearranging her room. Zir too was away somewhere. He never tells Uliya about his business. Just sent a message through Cecil that he will be gone all afternoon. 

    Once done eating sufficiently, the princess decided to finally pay a visit to Luminara before leaving to meet her friends. The weather outside was pleasantly warm today. And she thoroughly enjoyed the solo walk to the eastern wing after telling Yer to come get her after half an hour. 

    She knocked on the large oakwood door once, looking around and realizing the wing was mostly empty except for Luminara’s room. 

    “Who is it?” Luminara chimed, possibly from the other end of the chamber. Her voice deflecting ability makes it hard to understand exactly where she is talking from. 

    “It’s me, Uliya. Open up please.” The princess replied casually. And the doors immediately flew open. 

    The intertwined scents of lavender and petrichor hit Uliya as soon as she stepped inside, inviting nostalgia into the princess’ brain. She was fully in its grasp as soon she closed the doors on the way inside.

    She loved how Luminara’s room had the perfect balance of serious alchemist and carefree feminine. Currently the moonborn appears to be seeking pleasure from the slice of half eaten strawberry cake on her plate. Lounging back comfortably, with one leg up on the dining room chair.

    “Oh did I interrupt? I thought you’d be done with supper by now. I can come back later.” the princess asks awkwardly now wondering if she should have asked her first.

    But Luminara barely waves a hand in the direction of the chair opposite her. Gesturing the princess to sit. 

    “Wanna have cake?” She asks casually, her own mouth half full with it.

    “I already ate, I don’t have an appetite for dessert.”

    Luminara nods and puts the plate down, speaking after finishing the share. “Okay. Came to share something urgently I suppose? Not that I am complaining. I just figured you’d need at least a few days to settle back in. Wasn’t expecting you to pop in so soon. Again not that I didn’t want you to.”

    Uliya leans back casually in her own chair. “Yeah I guess it’ll take me a while to settle back in. So I thought I might as well visit you properly first, we barely got to talk during the welcome dinner.”

    She offers a full nod in response. Keeping the cleanly licked fork back on her plate. “What is it Ul?” 

    “I was wondering if you’d be comfortable training me? I did train back there but not as much. And I really don’t wanna do it with Hinjk cause he’s really strict. Also he doesn’t gossip much.” 

    A warm smile spreads across Luminara’s face at the words. “Of course, I’d love to. Also, might I add, I have a lot more hair than Hinjk so you might wanna put that into consideration too.” 

    Uliya bursts out laughing. “You are ridiculous. I missed you so much Nara.”

    Luminara grins right back. “I know, and I missed you like anything too. Much more than Zir might I add.” 

    “Obviously, who would miss that dull idiot that much. You’re not gonna believe this, it has barely been a day since we’ve been back. And he’s somehow managed to effortlessly settle back into all his duties. He woke up at sunrise today.”

    “Demiurge help him, he really needs to find someone to sleep with, he’s so uptight all the time.”

    “Right? And when I told him that he accused me of debauchery.” Uliya adds with an exaggerated eye roll.

    “Good to know he’s still the same older brother to you.” Luminara says half laughing.

    “Yeah did he not come by? He definitely enjoys your company.” Uliya asks casually. 

    “Oh he did, but that was a short visit for something else. We’re meeting for dinner tonight though. Why don’t you join us?” 

    Uliya grins and twirls a golden curl with her finger. “I can’t, going to see my friends now. Who knows where I might end up with that lot. There are always so many possibilities.” 

    “Mhm good to know atleast one Valhades heir is getting their fair share of action.” Luminara teases with a matching grin and wink and Uliya laughs hard.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The prince struggled to stay in a neutral mood the moment he found himself standing within the boundaries of Ivorvale. It was late afternoon and he had come back for a quick supper once done with the inauguration. He had grown used to seeing the few people he dealt with in the human lands. Back home he had the responsibilities of millions of citizens to look out for, starting with a visit to the Quaser in half an hour. Zir might appear a snob where crowds were concerned, but his distaste for them stemmed from a painful memory — one from back when he was fourteen.

    He and Sylveline had been romantically involved for six months. It was the first anniversary of when they had first kissed and he had confessed his feelings for her. They had agreed to meet in Terracinder, the main market square, because he had intended to surprise her with an antique obsidian pocket watch specially commissioned from a skilled old watchmaker there.

    It was probably the happiest he had ever been. The only person he had told was Kushiana, who had come to his chamber for an unrelated matter and spotted the flowers on his study desk. Zir never liked making a spectacle of his feelings and preferred to keep things private, even with those closest to him. But Kushiana had been encouraging and had even suggested he have a matching obsidian bracelet made for himself. So off he went on a busy sunny winter afternoon, a heavy black cloak pulled on to avoid being recognised. Lena had wanted to limit their public exposure while they were still growing up.

    He arrived at the market square a little early, a bouquet of ombre pink peonies — her favourite — held in one hand. He collected the watch and the bracelet from the watchmaker. But as he stood there he realised his hands had more room and she might love it if he also picked up an onyx dress from her favourite boutique, one that would compliment the watch perfectly. He turned in the opposite direction and sauntered toward it, entirely unaware of what was waiting.

    He halted ten steps from the boutique. Not because of anything in the glass display windows but because of what was just outside them. Sylveline. In someone’s arms. In fact arms would be putting it lightly, her mouth was entangled with the boutique owner’s eighteen year old son, who held her close by the waist as they continued with complete ease, as though they had done this many times before. She was giggling between it.

    Zir does not remember much about how he got home. Only that the crowd suddenly felt too close, too aware of everything he was carrying. He remembers a few Fyrges turning to look at him as the tears came and the things he had been holding dropped from his hands, encased in blocks of ice that cracked against the ground. His tunic collar felt like a metal chain tightening around his throat. It was only when he looked down through the blurring that he saw the ice had cracked open to reveal the peonies inside — withered and pale now, drained of colour. A single crunch beneath his feet as he walked away from all of it.

    When he was home he wept for hours. This was only the third time he had ever cried and it came out worse than a waterfall streaming down the Dewy Tors. The emotions were flooding him to the point that Cecil had entered through the opposite window the moment Zir walked in. His companion had sensed the unease from far away but had kept from meddling per Zir’s early morning instruction.

    Later, when Sylveline finally sensed something was wrong from his absence, she had come directly to the palace. “What is wrong?” she had asked from behind the threshold when Cecil slammed the doors shut with whatever little magic he had been saving for exactly this kind of occasion. It was only when Zir’s wobbling lip and teary eyes begged him silently to open them that the raven obliged. And before they could even begin to speak Cecil had fixed her with the deadliest of his bloodshot glares and said “Hopefully you are able to make it through this conversation without shoving your tongue down someone else’s throat, Lady Havburth” before flying out.

    She had been visibly unsettled by Cecil, and immediately resorted to apologising. The apologies were followed by several excuses that even then Zir could see for what they were. But he was hopelessly in love with the sixteen year old. Dusk had not even broken when he had already persuaded himself to forgive her. Their arrangement continued — sadly, at the cost of his relationship with his older sister.

    Because by fortune or misfortune, a friend of Kushiana’s had witnessed everything in the market square and understood immediately. By the time night fell, Kushiana had already received word and was livid when she entered her brother’s chamber, lightning trickling from her fingertips.

    “Please tell me I heard that completely wrong. She cheated on you?” Kushiana had demanded, and Zir had almost curled into something smaller. Almost. Because Kushiana kept going — about how she had always been suspicious of Sylveline and her intentions but had chosen not to say anything because Zir loved her and the prince had gotten angry himself and defended her. Knowing full well that what Sylveline had done was inexcusable. This was the first occasion Zir and Kushiana had ever truly argued. Before it they had always got along. He had essentially worshipped her. But all of a sudden he was not her baby brother anymore but a teenager defending his girlfriend. At least that was what Zir believed she was to him. “What business is it of yours? Do not meddle in my affairs,” he had told her in his seething fury as the argument escalated. The shock on his older sister’s face was unmistakable, palpable even. “I see that is how it is now. Fine,” was all she had said, her voice barely cracking on the last word before she stormed out.

    And then it was never the same between them. He had tried to apologise but was scared she would never accept it. Kushiana had unwavering pride and rightfully so. She had looked out for her siblings more than their parents ever had. Regardless, they never brought the matter up again. Over time their conversations grew short and their arguments grew worse. Neither of them could take enough steps to meet each other halfway, and the distance only increased.

    As the painful memory flooded him, the prince realised something. He did not hate the crowds. He hated the loud reminder they brought. His broken relationship with his older sister. He took a deep breath and decided to head for Kushiana’s chamber. An apology was long overdue. And time was only making it heavier to carry.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The sky had turned a bland shade of grey by the time Uliya reached the old tavern where her friends were usually found. She had always wondered why the owner named it Andedod — the word held no meaning in ancient Fyrge or the modern tongue. It was only tea time but two wobbly drunks passed her on the way in. She sighed, remembering the good days she had spent in the human world doing the same and more with her friends. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and immediately froze. Every thought drained out of her head, her heart thudding wildly. The anxiety sprang up on her like a long-forgotten enemy catching her at the worst possible moment. But a familiar voice followed.

    “What the hell are you doing standing outside like a frozen block of ice, dumbass?” Daphne demanded, full of teasing.

    Uliya turned slowly to find the lean, tan, copper-haired female with the bright blue and currently narrowed almond eyes. Thick eyebrows raised in question. She did not look a day older than when they last met three years ago. She had on a corseted plain brown flowy dress with tall black boots, her jet-black dagger hanging low on the sheath attached to her thick black corset.

    Uliya’s lips curved into a smirk. “What else? Thinking of your mama without her priestess robes on.”

    The inappropriate response was immediately met with a wickedly thick grin, followed by “Well does she look good kissing yours?”

    A beat of silence, then a burst of laughter from both ends and a very tight hug. “Your dirty sense of humour is so necessary to light up this drab place,” Daphne murmured.

    “I know,” was all Uliya offered, basking in the warmth of her friend’s embrace.

    Soon after, the two entered the tavern together, chatting all the way to the booth at the very end where the rest of their party was already seated.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Kushiana was placing the last of her jewellery boxes when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she said, assuming it was supper being sent by the maid. She had eaten a heavy breakfast after early morning training and had not felt particularly hungry during the organisation ritual.

    Heavy familiar footsteps followed once the door opened. She turned to check — the palace maids hardly ever made noise in their special footwear.

    She found Zir standing there instead, holding out a takeaway bag from her favourite sandwich place in the Citadel.

    “Care to eat with me?” he asked. Even from the distance between the armoire and the antechamber she could see the raw emotion on his face.

    “Yes, of course. Give me a second.” She closed the armoire door swiftly and made her way to the adjoining private dining hall.

    Zir was already seated at the opposite end, the sandwiches and orange-mint juice she liked spread out on the table before him.

    “Why are you not eating?” she asked, picking up her plate.

    “I poisoned the food.” He offered with a smirk, sipping the juice.

    She scoffed and began eating, realising only now how famished she actually was.

    Zir looked around the dining hall and antechamber in the meantime. She could tell he had come to say something but was hesitating.

    “What did you come to say?” she asked once done with the sandwiches.

    His full attention landed on her. He cleared his throat once.

    “I came to apologise.”

    Kushiana almost choked on the juice but managed to swallow and pressed a napkin to her mouth. “Apologise to me? For what?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

    He leaned in slightly and began fidgeting with the crystal angel figurine in the middle of the table.

    “For what I said to you back then. That day.” He offered after an insufferably long pause.

    Kushiana raised an eyebrow. “Which day? That horrible intervention about the orange hex at your manor in the human lands?”

    “It was not—” Zir began, slightly irked, then immediately steadied himself. “No. Not that.”

    Kushiana had an urge to snatch the figurine from his hands so he would stop circling the point. But she knew patience was the best thing she could offer her emotionally inexpressive brother.

    “Then when?” she asked gently.

    He finally set the figurine down and looked up. She thought for a moment she saw his eyes turn glassy as they met hers.

    “For what I said to you that night. When you came to me after she cheated on me. I knew it was wrong. I knew I should not have defended her and that you were right about everything. But—” His lip wobbled slightly and a tear slipped out. “I was not ready to accept it back then. And I took it out on you. I know you were looking out for me, Kush. I am sorry. I am so sorry for what I said. I was hurting and you had every right to say what you said. I was completely out of line. And I think it is what drove us apart and I have never stopped feeling guilty about it. I just — please forgive me. I am so tired of us always fighting. You used to be the person I could talk to easily and then I ruined it and I have never not felt the weight of that. I am just so sorry.”

    Zir was visibly sobbing by the end, his face in his hands. The Prince of Stars practically drenched in a sadness that had lived in him for eight years and eaten at him quietly all that time. It was only when he felt his sister move and pull him into an embrace that the sobbing stilled. Moments passed before she spoke.

    “I cannot forgive you because I was never mad at you, you fool.” she said finally.

    Zir broke the embrace. Kushiana looked lighter. Normal.

    “What? Really?”

    She nodded and caressed his head. “Yes, of course. I knew you were hurting. And I will not lie, the words stung back then. But the only reason I did not push further was because I knew you would take your own time to process and move on. And honestly, now that we are being truthful with each other — I would never have approved of her, and I felt that if I kept forcing that opinion onto you it would only push you further away. I was the older one. I had to be the one to set a boundary. I did not want to keep shoving my view of her into your head. I wanted you to have some breathing room to figure out what was right for you on your own.”

    “That makes sense. But are you sure you were not angry with me?”

    She laughed and pinched the tip of his nose. “No, you imbecile. And as for the fighting — it is normal. You grew up and suddenly had a working brain of your own. Of course you were not going to trail after me the way you used to. Your opinions grew, and so did our arguments. But why do I need to explain any of this to you? Did you not go through the exact same thing with Uliya?”

    He nodded. “Yes. But Uliya is Uliya. And she had different and very reasonable grounds to resent me. We talked about it though.”

    She moved his head back gently with her palm. “Good. We did today too. So get the idea that I am angry with you out of your head for good. I could never be angry with you. You are my baby brother.”

    “I am twenty two.”

    She rolled her eyes and flicked his forehead. “So what, moron? You could be five hundred and I would be five hundred and six and still call you that.”

    He nodded, a hint of a smile appearing. “Fair.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 10 – The Grim Making Of A Moonborn, Part Two

    The queen takes a moment to collect herself before calling for Nysleon, who appeared beside her immediately.

    “Yes, your Majesty.”

    “Where is the child?” she asks, an edge still prominent in her voice that Nysleon can easily sense, even though she has buried it deep to appear neutral.

    “Noorani the healer was called as soon as the child arrived. She is treating her in the first chamber of the eastern wing, per the king’s request.”

    “I wish to see the child once she is done. Let Noorani know. And tell her to give the child something that helps with slumber if she has not already. She must be shaken.”

    Nysleon nods once. “Of course. Do you wish to see the prince in the meantime?”

    “What is he doing?”

    “He took a bath and demanded a feast as soon as he was done. So I suppose he is still eating.”

    The queen raised an eyebrow. “Zir demanded a feast? The wain who barely touches his food?” Then, as the answer came to her even as she asked it, she shook her head. “Nevermind. Inane of me to ask. Of course he did. After using his newly sprouted magical abilities, he must be famished.”

    “Shall I take you to him?”

    “No. Let him eat uninterrupted and rest. I will see him this evening.” Nysleon bows and leaves at once to deliver the message to the healer.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Luminara blends into the warm woollen laycloth of the bed when the healer finally leaves her in solitude. She stares at the canopy absentmindedly as the thoughts that had been a hassle earlier finally begin to quiet.

    She does not recall much of what happened after the prince rescued her. Only fragments. Her panting and her hammering heart as she rushed through the hall trying to get hold of any weapon, anything to save herself from what was coming. The savage satisfaction on the Draumfell heir’s face as he commanded that the first five to strip and force themselves on this recently orphaned child would win a portion of the estate’s treasure and the chance to marry her — if they found her of any value after the said activity. The greed and lust on the faces of every single one of those barbarians as they frenzied after the eleven year old. How she had luckily found the grappling hook and rope that helped her aim for the chandelier and climb with everything she had. She had not known she could climb that fast. She supposed the ability had been hidden by Demiurge to surface on a day of doom exactly like this. She remembered the cutting rage on the prince’s face as he swore retribution to Skarde Draumfell. Had Zir meant it? Or had it been the heat of the moment? She had been left wondering.

    Not for long, as a knock came at the door. She lurched for anything within reach that could serve as a weapon.

    “Do not be afraid. It is me, child. The queen.” A beautifully melodic but firm voice came from the other side of the door in a way that made it seem as though its source was already in the room with her. As though she had already seen her reaching frantically for something.

    “May I come in?” she asked gently.

    A soft affirmative slipped from Luminara’s lips after a moment of silence.

    The doors opened slowly and the queen walked in. Radiant as day, even in the dim lamplight of the room. She had the most beautiful golden curls flowing halfway down her tall stature. Her almond-shaped eyes were a striking golden yellow that immediately put Luminara at ease with the calm they seemed to carry. The luscious maroon lips seemed to mirror Zir’s. The queen was naturally beautiful in the most regal sense, with her high cheekbones — like she had been born to be exactly what she was. She wore a golden and silver-lined satin-silk gown with heavy pleats, the kind Luminara had always imagined having made for her own mother someday. A heaviness touched her chest at the thought, and it seemed like the queen saw straight through it. Because she turned and told the two ladies in waiting flanking her to wait outside. They nodded and left, pulling the large oakwood doors closed behind them.

    Luminara gave a half bow from the bed, mindful of her injured leg — a gash on her thigh from the chandelier icicle before she had climbed up to it. The queen simply smiled and settled beside her.

    “So you are the friend Zir would not stop talking about when he came back from the carnival last year?” Lena asked with a gentleness Luminara had not been sure, until today, that royals were capable of. Except the prince, of course. He had always been kind to her.

    “Yes. My name is Luminara, your Majesty.” She answered with a visible trace of hesitation.

    “You have a remarkably exquisite name. I think it signifies that you are meant for a greater purpose in this world.”

    She managed a small smile. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

    “You do not have to smile at me if you do not want to. Ever. Though I am certain your genuine smile would be a delight to witness.”

    Luminara freezes momentarily at the warmth and kindness extended to a lowborn like her. They had always expected royals to be smug and unfeeling. And again, as though she could read the child effortlessly, Lena took her tiny hand inside her own with a comforting stroke.

    “Since you are a friend of Zir, you can stay here as long as you would like. Even if it is forever. The palace will always have this chamber lit up for you.”

    “Thank you, your Maj—” Luminara’s raspy little voice broke even on those few words as a tear escaped, then another. And before she knew it she was bawling. But the ugliness of the day had long subsided, because through her falling tears she realised she was in the warm embrace of a mother. Not her own, but someone’s mother. Not just a queen. Comforting hands patted her back and head as she sobbed through the painful memories of the past two days.

    Moments passed, and before she noticed she had stopped. She felt lighter already. Considerably better. As she broke the embrace and met the queen’s eyes, a small smile appeared on both their faces at the same moment.

    “I did not give birth to you. But as of today I will always consider and treat you as my own child.” Lena said, and gently pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead. A kiss that healed a larger part of the pain than either of them realised — the kind the child would otherwise have suppressed and carried growing up, without ever knowing it was there.

    Luminara did not answer. But the small smile from earlier had stretched into something much longer and entirely genuine.

    The queen asked her ladies in waiting to bring a feast for the child afterwards, and fed her herself. She put her to sleep right after.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    Kiev had nearly dozed off on the maroon velvet chaise in their bedchamber after several glasses of wine when he felt a hand caress his cheek gently. He looked up to find Lena standing over him.

    “My love, sit with me.” He said, straightening, and she did. Despite being half-drunk he could read the anxious expression on her face immediately.

    “Why do you worry? Is something the matter?” he asked, wide-eyed and fully alert now.

    “The prophecy has come true,” she replied, and Kiev’s eyebrow rose immediately.

    “The prophecy? Which one?”

    Lena did not answer directly. “How could we have missed such an important detail?”

    “Relax. Which one?”

    “The birth of the moon-blessed child.”

    “The birth—” He stopped himself halfway, eyes showing clearly how staggered he was.

    “Luminara?” he asked carefully.

    “Of course it is her, Kiev. She is only eleven and has already lived through the twin catastrophic events the prophecy describes. That means in the coming two decades there is a strong likelihood of war.”

    He exhaled deeply, sitting with the weight of it. Moments passed before he spoke.

    “It will be all right. I will meet with Evan first thing tomorrow, then the Council. We will prepare accordingly. This is not the first time ruling has asked something difficult of us.”

    “About that — please do not let anyone other than Evan learn of Luminara’s identity. The child has been through enough. If people find out what she is, they will never treat her the same. Some may come for her blood.”

    He nodded solemnly. “I promise. But only until the next decade. We will have Hinjk train her in the meantime. She will learn to defend herself and explore the depth of her abilities.”

    She nodded, relieved. “I will tell her to keep this to herself until then. She is a bright child. She will listen.”

    He caressed her head gently. “Of course she will. Why would she not? You are the greatest mother a child could ask for.”

    She swallowed the praise quietly and moved the conversation forward. “I found out just after putting her to bed. I was leaving when I saw a glowing light emerging from the centre of her chest. I followed it outside and found it was perfectly aligned with the twin moons’ rays.”

    “Extraordinary,” he said softly.

    The king wrapped an arm around his beloved, and together they gazed silently at the twin moons, radiant in their full glory.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 9 – The Grim Making Of A Moonborn, Part One

    In Fyrgen there had been a prophecy long-standing since the birth of the first Fyrges. “When the continent unites for good, there shall be the birth of a divine babe, blessed by the luminosity of the moon goddess herself. Despite being born to a family with limited means and resources, her birth will bring them joy and abundance. The first decade of her lifetime will be spent rejoicing in an environment filled with familial love and care. Until her eleventh birth anniversary, when the tide is bound to turn in a direction even the moon-blessed child would not be able to track. On this day a cataclysmic event will shake up her life, one that is vital for the child to take a different course in her adult years. The fate of the entire continent depends on the shift brought forth by this day. For this child holds the power to dip the twin moons when the world needs it the most.”

    — The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall Of Learning

    Content Warning This chapter contains depictions of child endangerment and attempted sexual violence. Reader discretion is advised.

    Eleven years ago

    The Palace of Citrindally has seen brighter mornings, but the way the sun shines today seems to hint at a good omen arriving. At least that is what Lena is thinking, sprawled across the hammock in her private courtyard, in the company of her two ladies in waiting, Iris and Bridget, who are busy fanning the relaxed queen. Her youngest, Princess Uliya, is busy playing with the queen’s royal companion Nysleon in the corner of the same courtyard.

    “Any word about the king and prince’s arrival, Nyse?” Lena asks in her usual calm but firm tone. The winter lion comes running up to her, followed by Uliya on her tiny agile legs — she was clearly not finished putting flowers in his beautiful silver hair.

    “Stravosa has not contacted me since their quick stop in Tyutir, your Majesty.” He offers with a polite bow.

    “The sun god appears to be signalling me toward something. A positive development today.” Lena adds after a quiet sigh.

    “What sort of development, if you do not mind my asking, your Majesty?” Iris asks, curiosity stirred at the confession of the sun-chosen queen.

    “Time will tell, child. The sun god speaks in the sort of riddles I can only decode to a certain extent.” She answers. They all nod in unison, except the five year old princess who takes this as an opportunity to drop down beside her in the hammock.

    “What is a riddle, Mama?” she asks, and the queen answers gently, meeting her gaze. “It is when we speak in a way that does not directly explain something. Only pointing in the direction of ideas and imagination.”

    “Father speaks in that way!” She exclaims and everyone laughs at her excited squeal.

    “Yes, my precious child.” The queen draws her close, making her sit beside her in the hammock, running her hands through her loose, sun-warmed golden curls.

    “Uliya, would you like me to braid your hair?”

    “Yes, Mama.” The queen nods and gestures to Iris, who quickly produces an amber silk ribbon from her pocket.

    “You are my most adorable and well-behaved child,” Lena adds, slowly working through the labyrinth of curls and tresses that reach her tiny waist.

    “Thank you, Mama. But what about Zir and Kush?” she asks teasingly, drawing a slight snort from Lena.

    “Oh, they are just fine. Do not worry about them, dear. I love all of you.”

    “But you love me the best.” Uliya appends her own ending to the sentence and is met with silence. Lena has the wisdom to know that even if you have a favoured child, it is never to be revealed. And Uliya is certainly that child for her.

    Soon a royal guard approaches the main door with a knock. Nysleon rushes over to receive the message.

    “What news?” the queen asks once he returns to the courtyard.

    “His Majesty and his Royal Highness have arrived with the guards and emissaries. No one was hurt. However—”

    The queen looks up immediately at that last word.

    “They have brought someone else. His Majesty has requested your presence in the great hall immediately.”

    And there is the direction the sun god was pointing in today.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The queen, flanked by her ladies in waiting and Nysleon at her side, arrives at the great hall shortly after. The others halt when they find two guards stationed outside the private chamber.

    “I shall go and find Stravosa, if you permit, your Majesty.” Lena nods and enters the private chamber through the large oakwood double doors.

    She finds the king resting alone on the low chaise. No sign of Ziruth.

    “Kiev, my love. How was your journey?” she asks gently, settling beside him.

    “A whirlwind, darling. Exhausting but the worthy kind.” He places her smooth, dainty fingers inside his own large callused ones.

    “You look happier for it. And I heard we lost no one from our troops, which is wonderful news.”

    He laughs. “Yes. Their resistance was not as strong as we had hoped. They gave up without much of a fight. Not that there was much choice in the matter.”

    “I understand.” She nods solemnly and they share a quiet, intimate moment as he embraces her after more than three weeks away.

    “I also have someone I would like you to meet.” He adds, pulling back to meet her eyes.

    “I heard. Who is it?”

    “You know that the Draumfells had recently seized control of the Great Monville estate by unlawful means. They slaughtered the minister in charge.”

    “Yes, Stravosa kept us informed on all developments until yesterday.”

    “I had not known, as it turns out. Our spies were tracked and killed by the Draumfell clan. Our allies were bought off with promises of gold so that no news would reach me during the excursion.”

    Lena listens and nods, her expression shifting into hostile territory, all warmth for the king retreating from her face. A queen later, general first — Kiev had promised her that before their wedding.

    “For the most important part of how we found out, I must ask you something first. Were you aware of Zir showing any magical abilities beyond what we discussed with the healer?”

    She leans in, visibly confused. “No, only the freezing and the usual palm magic. Why?”

    He sighs deeply. “He has countless others, it seems, that we may not know of until they emerge. But somehow, while we were resting at a stop nearby, our son insisted that we needed to go to Monville. Immediately. I brushed it off at first, told him it was not in our itinerary. But he was absolutely adamant, Lena. I eventually assumed he simply wanted to visit the carnival again — he had enjoyed it so much the last time. So we agreed to go the following morning.”

    Lena caresses his hand gently, urging him to continue.

    “The next sunrise, Zir woke right on time and shook me awake, urging us to leave two hours early. He seemed very anxious, which is so unlike him. But I had an empty feeling in my stomach that told me there was more to it. So we left earlier than planned. And Lena, I am so glad we did.” The pain on Kiev’s face is unmistakable.

    He reaches for a small hunting knife on the stone table across from them — one studded with pink pearls and tiny ribbons, which she had not noticed before.

    “As soon as we entered Monville I knew something was wrong. The town seemed to hush the moment we passed through the boundary gates. The guards had gone pale. The general public offered no welcome. Shops closed and people rushed home. And Zir said — ‘Father, we need to go to the Monville Estate.’ It was like an alarm went off inside me too, because I am certain he had no idea the estate existed. I ordered Evan to take us there immediately.”

    “What happened then?” Lena asks, her own anxiety rising at the foreboding weight of Kiev’s voice.

    The king swallows. The light dims slightly in his eyes. His hesitating is never a good sign. It is well known throughout the kingdom that Kiev the Second never wavers.

    “We reached the castle gates. Evan immediately prevented the guards from announcing our arrival. And before we could even assess the situation, Zir rushed out of the carriage and ran straight for the gates. The guards went after him, Lena. But he moved with a speed that was not natural. I had to intervene and catch his arm just before he reached the double doors. And when I held our child, tears were already running down his face. He screamed at me — ‘They will hurt her. We have to go now, Father.’”

    “I had the guards open the doors. There was no one in the hallway, so I took Zir’s hand and let him lead me. He brought me to the crown room. And Lena, what I saw there shattered me. We entered unannounced to find around a hundred men gathered at the centre of the room. Aggressive, frenzied. And then I looked up — and there was this child clad in black at the centre of it all. A youngling I vaguely recognised from somewhere I could not place. The next thing I knew—”

    He pauses and clicks his tongue, a flash of rage crossing his face. “I cannot recount the rest of it. We have daughters of our own. Search the memory in my mind. I will not say it out loud.”

    She nods, reaching for the power of her third eye. She visualises a thread connecting her mind to Kiev’s and draws his recent memories toward her. Once they become accessible, she moves back from the present moment and stops at the beginning — when he first sees the child.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    The child has her hands clasped around the downrod of the chandelier. Panic-stricken, screaming for her life. The men below jump and lunge for her repeatedly, failing each time as she moves fast and pulls herself out of reach. At the far end of the room, the youngest Draumfell heir watches from the throne flanked by four guards, entirely unbothered. The men laugh collectively, vicious and feral. “It’s going to be so much fun when we grab her.” “I get the first turn.” “Even if she dies, pass her along.”

    Kiev’s shock is palpable. He is barely done comprehending the sight when Zir steps forward from the corner of his eye. All the anxiety and dread that had been written across his son’s face is gone. Replaced now by fury so absolute it has no age. The eleven year old child is gone. What stands in his place is something ancient and divine, oozing a glittering blue-white light from his skin, eyes turned to a striking silver that swallows the pupil entirely.

    “Halt and step back.”

    The words leave his mouth and echo through the entire hall without him raising his voice. Perhaps because the voice does not belong to him alone but to something far higher. Every man in the room stops. Horror crosses their faces collectively. Zir is surrounded by a crackling, electrifying energy visible to everyone present.

    Kiev, Evan and the guards drop to their knees and bow. What stands before them is no longer the Prince of Stars but something beyond it — a supernova. The child on the chandelier watches with a gaping mouth, all terror momentarily replaced by awe.

    Zir moves to the centre of the room, directly below her. He raises one arm slowly and cuts his palm through the air. Every man in the room freezes instantly, encased in solid chunks of ice — all but Kiev and his entourage. Skarde Draumfell remains frozen on his throne, his guards with him.

    Zir looks up. His eyes find the girl’s glassy ones and the crackling energy around him dims slowly, the swirling settling into stillness. He raises a hand toward her. She hesitates, doubt still visible on her face, then quietly raises hers. A thread emerges from both their palms and ties itself between them — his silver, hers gold.

    “You can step down. My magic will keep you from falling.” His voice is gentle.

    She looks down, afraid, then nods once with quiet trust. She releases the downrod slowly. “Visualise a staircase in your mind and it will take shape before your eyes.” She does, and descends with surprising ease.

    Kiev and the others watch in silence as she steps off the final invisible stair and stops directly in front of Zir.

    “Are you alright?” he asks.

    “Yes,” she replies, body still trembling.

    Before she can even look up to meet his eyes, Zir turns to his father. “This is Luminara, my friend. She is coming with us.” The vague recognition that had been circling Kiev’s mind finally settles into certainty. This is the friend he made during the Monville Carnival last year. That is where he knows her from.

    Kiev nods, composure returning. “Zir, come here.”

    Zir crosses back to him quickly.

    “What of her family? We should find them,” Kiev says quietly.

    “They died last night.” Zir offers nothing further, then gestures for her to follow. The child falls into step beside him immediately.

    They are nearly out of the door when Kiev says, “Ziruth, wait. Defreeze the Draumfell.”

    Zir turns sharply, the fury back at once. “What are you talking about? He sat on his throne and ordered his underlings to do unspeakable things to her.” The child moves behind him instinctively and he reaches for her hand.

    “We will try him. Prison, as an example to the resistance.”

    “No. He needs to die. Let me finish it now.” He raises his hand.

    “Ziruth.” Kiev’s voice is lethal and cold. “I am your king as well as your father. You will follow my orders. This is larger than one incident.”

    The defiance and disgust on Zir’s face do not leave, but his hand lowers. He turns to the frozen throne and cuts the air to release him.

    Skarde Draumfell falls back against his seat with a thud, dazed and wide-eyed. Before the guards can reach him, Zir is already there, stopping directly in front of the eighteen year old.

    “You, Skarde Draumfell, are my enemy for as long as I breathe. I will come for you one day and watch as you bleed and beg, your bones crushed by the friend you dared to disrespect. You will be nothing but dust beneath her feet. I make this blood oath before Demiurge’s watchful eye. Pray you die before that dreadful night arrives. You will be eviscerated into nothingness.” He marks the blood oath with a slow circular motion of his hand.

    And just like that, the Prince of Stars drains every last trace of colour from the predatory heir’s face. He turns on his heel in sacred fury, takes his friend’s hand, and leaves the hall with his white brocade cloak flying behind him, sealing Skarde’s fate.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    It took Lena a long time to surface from the memory. Her eyes were glassy with a burning rage held carefully behind them. Kiev sensed it without her saying a word. It was only when he leaned in and lifted her chin gently that life returned to her expression.

    “My love,” he whispered.

    “How could he think of doing such a thing to a child. She is our son’s age. It disgusts me, Kiev. Why did you not let Zir kill him? Why did you choose that moment to act as monarch? You should have let him die.”

    A tear slips out, born of the particular frustration of being a female who understands exactly what was at stake in that room. Lena does not soften her words in times of great unrest. It does not matter that the person beside her is the king. She is speaking as a mother of three children, and her outrage is not limited to her own.

    “He is the leverage we need against the resistance. It was not an easy decision, especially after what I saw — you felt my discomfort in the memory, I am sure — but—” Kiev attempts to continue and she raises a hand, stopping him. She may understand it as queen. She does not accept it as herself.

    Thick tension settles between them. They are on opposing sides of the same love and neither can fully cross to the other. Moments pass in silence before Stravosa, the king’s companion white tiger — appears at the door with a knock and bows.

    “What is it?” Kiev snaps, letting more show than he usually would.

    Stravosa does not waver. “The lady in waiting informed me that your bath is ready, your Majesty.”

    Kiev rises immediately, because he would be anywhere but here right now. “We will speak later,” he says to Lena. She answers with a solemn nod.

    Alone in the silence that follows, she feels the infuriating knowledge of Skarde Draumfell still breathing settle over her like a weight. It spreads the way a righteous disease spreads — one she finds it honourable to carry, because it reminds her that she does not need to have experienced something herself in order to feel it fully. A just queen through and through.

    She prays quietly to the sun god for his doom.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 8 – Tragedy Often Leaves A Trail

    As a wain, my magical abilities did not fully emerge until I was somewhere between nine and ten. I vividly remember sitting in our private dining chamber wanting a chocolate soufflé for dessert rather than the flan everyone else was having. My mother declined to call the servants on my behalf, saying I needed to grow out of my shyness and learn to ask for things myself. Before speaking I rehearsed it quietly, imagining the kitchen maid standing right beside me. “I would like a chocolate soufflé, please.” “I need one, please.” “Could I have some, please?” I settled on the last as the most polite. The moment I opened my mouth, the kitchen maid appeared with vacant eyes at an unnatural speed, placed three plates of chocolate soufflé before me and said “Do you require anything else, my mistress?” That is how we discovered my primary magical ability was placing anyone in a thrall through words and visualisation alone.

    — Princess Uliya Van Larsson of House Valhades, Personal Accounts of the Valhades Heirs, The Great Hall Of Learning

    ~ Uliya ~

    An intense black light bleeds in from behind the curtains of my pastel pink room, painting all four walls with it. “Oh crap,” I mutter as I wake, covering my eyes with my arm. “Yer, what is all this?” No lightning quick response comes. I drag myself out of bed, making out objects by touch, calling her name again and again until I feel the light seeping through my closed eyelids. I try to reach for my power and find nothing there. So I open my eyes slowly, met first with pitch black, then with a deep and revolting red that stretches as far as I can see.

    Then I hear breathing.

    Followed by the voice I thought I had buried long ago. “Uliya my love, why don’t you come play with me?” My body locks up, a strange sensation crawling all over it at once. No. No. It cannot be. Apateus. His voice seems distant at first, then — “I can always be closer than you think” it is no longer a whisper and it is coming from directly behind me. I feel warm tears streaking down my face. “Let go of me!” I demand, met only with vicious laughter that pierces my eardrums and makes my heart collapse entirely. And then like a phantom wind he is right in front of me, wide eyes meeting the curve of his mocking smile perfectly. “I said let go of me, or I will rip your eye socket out. You filthy piece of scum.” I say it through clenched teeth. The colour drains from his face. The smile falters and he steps back. It takes me a moment to realise he is not looking at me at all, but at something behind me. I turn halfway and am met with an intense yellow light and Apateus’ deafening cry of fear reverberating all around me.

    Before I can process it, I wake up in my own bed. Sweating through my clothes, panting. Yer hovers over me immediately, a wet cloth napkin held in her beak, cooing “You are fine, Ul. You are fine.”

    I cannot stop panting but sit up and grab the water tumbler to my left, pouring it straight into my mouth without bothering with a glass. Once hydrated and fully aware of my surroundings — my bright, cosy bedchamber with the pink accents, I finally let the panic go.

    “Did you have a nightmare?” she asks, settling casually on top of the left footpost.

    “Yes,” I practically whisper.

    “That is peculiar. You have not had one in six years. Your first night back and this happens.” She cocks her head to the side.

    I sigh and get off the bed, ringing the bell for Agatha, the new lady in waiting assigned to me. I was sad to learn yesterday that old Esmeralda had died of a plague that took many poor Fyrges last year. “Maybe it is my body adjusting back to Citrindally’s air.”

    “Fair enough. What was it about? I could only catch flashes of bright golden light in my mind.”

    I stop walking and turn to face her directly. “Nothing. Can we speak about this later? I do not want to start my first morning home on a dull note, Yer.”

    “Of course! Do you want me to fetch your correspondence? Agnes told us a great many citizens have written to welcome you back.” She squeals and I laugh, giving her a small nod before she disappears through the window.

    I stretch to shake off the last of the anxiety, interrupted by two quick knocks at the door.

    “Come in,” I answer. The door creaks open and a meek looking female steps inside. Her hair is a beautiful flame-kissed shade, gathered into a large fishnet bun behind her head. She is petite, dressed in a drab white collared silk dress paired with a sea green lace apron — the usual attire of the ladies in waiting at the royal palace, unless they wish otherwise, as Fyrges hold a superstition about certain colours being unlucky for their health.

    She greets me with a prolonged bow, the kind reserved for a first meeting between a lady in waiting and her princess, then says, “Your Royal Highness, if I may introduce myself?”

    “Please do. And try calling me Uliya when we are behind closed doors. Being addressed as Your Royal Highness at all times might make me an even worse royal than I already am.”

    A small smile escapes her before she schools it. “My name is Agatha. Starting today I will be at your service for all matters, official and unofficial, that a lady in waiting should attend to. I also excel at sewing, altering and customising garments.”

    “Perfect, you can assist with the seamstress work as well then, Agatha. I would like breakfast in my antechamber this morning — please let my mother know. And bring a couple of gowns for me to choose from for lunch.”

    “Of course. Is there anything else?”

    I start to shake my head and stop. “Actually yes, one urgent matter. Could you stop by and give Prince Zir a message on your way? His companion is not around today.”

    She nods and moves to the desk, lifting a piece of paper and the ink-dipped feather.

    “I am certain his Royal Highness would be pleased to hear from you. What is the message?”

    “Tell him that the first thing I thought of this morning was that specific time eight years ago when he picked up Mama’s sword for the first time, could not handle it, fell straight into the fountain, and I could not stop laughing. Also tell him he is a prick.” I say it with complete seriousness.

    She raises an eyebrow slightly, then immediately bows when she realises I mean every word.

    “It is fine, he will know it is from me.”

    I smile and dismiss her with a casual wave and she is gone.

    Later that afternoon,

    I am the last to arrive at our private dining hall. My mother and father are already seated at their respective ends of the rectangular table, making conversation with Zir and Kushiana, who sit opposite each other and are very clearly attempting civility.

    The moment I take my first step inside, all eyes turn to me — scanning for whichever emotion they have learned to expect from me. Anger. Sadness. Nastiness. Indifference.

    “It is essential for a princess to respect the timing of supper, Uliya,” my mother says, firmly but politely, by way of greeting.

    I hastily pull out the chair beside Zir, next to her. “Sorry. I could not sleep at all last night.”

    “It is alright, child. I am simply glad we are all eating together.” Father smiles and rings the bell with a flick of magic, sending the servants into motion around the room.

    We eat in the silence considered appropriate for royals. Demiurge help me, I am going to miss chatting with Yer over meals. The food here may be better but it is doing nothing for me when she is not at the table. My family is perfectly tolerable but nothing compares to her.

    I unenthusiastically carve up the baked seasoned potatoes on my plate when I feel Kushiana’s gaze settle on me. “What?” I mouth. Her eyes move deliberately to the untouched pile of vegetables beside them, then back to mine. A silent question.

    I sigh. Then spend the next few minutes slowly burying the ash-like food in the depths of my mouth.

    “If you do not mind,” Zir says suddenly, setting down his fork, “I have an urgent matter to attend to. May I take leave?” As usual, Mister Busy has somewhere to be. This is the same man who faked employment for years in the human lands. Nothing surprises me anymore.

    “I certainly mind. What is this urgent matter pertaining to, Ziruth?” Father’s voice carries the weight of a king this time.

    “It is Zir, so probably something to do with abandoning his family and kingdom.” Kushiana adds in that feather-light voice of hers, the one that appears reliably after two glasses of blackberry wine. I sometimes wonder if she would need that many drinks if she stopped shouldering responsibility for everyone around her.

    Zir tilts his head slowly, smiling like a feral cat. They are absolutely going to start.

    “Is that what you are wishing on? So you can keep fishing for another opportunity to self-sacrifice?”

    Her answering snarl splits something in my chest. A small crackle of lightning flickers from her fingers. Father exhales deeply.

    “Enough.” Mama’s voice is sharper now, carrying real weight. “Need I remind you both who you are seated before?”

    Both of them straighten immediately, eyes dropping. So completely at odds with the argument they were building toward seconds ago.

    “Good. Zir, you may go. But let us avoid abrupt departures during the limited meals we have together as a family. We must learn to stay together.”

    He nods. “Yes ma’am. I will see you both in court this evening.” He rises and leaves.

    Mama extends a finger toward Kushiana. An invisible thread attaches to her half-full glass and lifts it smoothly across the table into Mama’s waiting hand.

    “I was still drinking that—”

    “Yes, and look at the state of you already. It should have stopped after the first glass. Drunk is not a flattering look on a queen.”

    Kushiana bursts out laughing, clearly out of spite. “And dead is?”

    Father coughs. Mother’s eyes register as much shock as they allow themselves.

    I stand and take my older sister firmly by the arm. “Up. We are getting some fresh air.”

    “I do not want—”

    “Now, Kushiana.” I say it in the rare assertive way I rarely do.

    She yields.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    I had written back to Syveline the same night, while still in the human lands, asking her to describe Nivun’s ailment in detail. She responded the next morning and I immediately sent Cecil in search of Noorani, our family healer who gave up her practice to focus on teaching children. She could not be found. Cecil has gone to Tyutir again today, to her kin’s place, still looking.

    Until then.

    I have just escaped a painfully prolonged supper with my family. They take unusually long to eat and it is unbearable. How hard is it to finish soup? No chewing required.

    I head directly for the eastern wing’s second floor and knock on the large heavy oakwood door. The smell immediately stirs up childhood memories.

    “Hello, who can I expect?” Lume’s deep voice answers from inside.

    “It is me, Zir. Open up.”

    The door swings open by magic and I step into the antechamber. The eastern wing bedrooms are considerably more airy than the rest of the palace. Luminara’s in particular is the finest, her antechamber leading into a large bedchamber connected to a generous hanging garden balcony for her herbs.

    The scent of rosemary and dill drifts around me as I take in how the antechamber has been remade to reflect her grown interests. Several neatly organised shelves hold glass beakers, vials and containers of herbs in careful rows.

    Her adjoining bedchamber and private dining hall have minimal furniture — a large blackwood canopy bed with lavender vines falling from it and wrapping around white curtains beautifully. Her study desk sits in front of it, covered in correspondence written in cerulean blue ink. A large triple armoire of whitewood faces the bed and contrasts beautifully against it. A single green velvet sofa with a round coffee table, books stacked in piles underneath. Tiny lamps are mounted across the ceiling. No chandelier like the rest of us. I feel uneasy for a moment registering that, then swallow it down and push open the double doors to the garden.

    The semi-circular ground is covered in trimmed grass. Large and small plants crowd every surface, flowers and herbs blooming to the point of overlapping in places, making the stone boundary of the balcony nearly impossible to locate.

    It takes a moment to find Lume somewhere in the middle, her head popping up from where she has been kneeling, working a new plant into a round mirror-glazed ceramic pot.

    She has her hair in two long braids falling over her shoulders and has chosen black overalls over a green tunic, white rubber gloves and thick boots.

    “Hey, I was not expecting you until this evening. Is something wrong?” She asks, nonchalant, attempting to push stray strands of hair back from her sweat-beaded forehead with her elbow. Her gloves are covered in dry soil.

    I move toward her and push them back behind her ear.

    She lets out a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders dropping. “Thank you. It was driving me mad.”

    I smile. “I need your help, Lume. Could you come back to this later?”

    “Of course. Give me a minute.”

    I nod and settle onto the sofa, pouring her a glass of water while she cleans the soil from her hands and tosses the gloves into a corner.

    “Tell me,” she says, sitting on the settee across from me and drinking.

    I lean forward. “Alright, so—” and stop, realising the balcony and antechamber doors are still open. As if every soul here doesn’t have better things to do than suspect their prince of casual treason.

    She catches where my eyes go and snaps both doors shut with a flick of her fingers.

    “I have already sealed all my chambers with sonancy magic. You can say whatever you need to.” She adds the reassurance because she knows my wariness extends to even locked doors. 

    I wink. “I knew having a smart friend would pay off eventually.”

    She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you were that calculative even in your first decade. Now go on, princeling. I have healing herbs waiting to be bound.”

    “Alright. I cannot get hold of our old healer Noorani, and I need medicine made without my parents learning of it.”

    She leans back and crosses her legs. “What kind of herbs?”

    I bring out the paper describing the ailment and the medicine name and hold it out to her. Or so I think.

    She raises an eyebrow and holds up what is actually in her hand, an amused smile playing on her lips.

    “I do agree with Uliya that you are a prick, and I cannot wait to hear more about this sword incident, but—”

    I realise I have handed her the message Uliya sent to torment me through her maid earlier. I snatch it back, shove it into my pocket and produce the correct paper.

    She keeps laughing but skims through it quickly and nods. “I can make this. But it will need sun-dried salted aloe vera which takes two days to prepare. Three days in total.”

    I do not argue about the timeline. I already trust she has found the fastest way.

    “That works. Thank you, Lume.”

    “A thanks will not cover it. I need five tiny rubies in exchange.”

    I scoff. “Do not be absurd. That would barely make a bracelet. I will get you twenty.”

    We look at each other seriously for a moment before she laughs. “You need to learn to negotiate, princeling. Anyone could take advantage of you. I was joking anyway.”

    I stand. “Negotiation is for dealings with others. Not the friend who never asks why I need something. I suggest you start asking for more.”

    She pauses before she rises. And when she looks up I notice her eyes are a little glassy.

    “I missed you, you know.”

    I feel my own emotions rise. “I did too, moonbug.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Kushiana ~

    I regain consciousness at the cost of a throbbing headache that ascends to the crown of my head and then descends again in nauseating waves. I manage to open my glassy eyes. I am in my bedchamber but not alone.

    “She does not even listen to me without snapping. What am I supposed to do?” Zir mutters to Uliya from the leather armchair in front of my bed, gazing thoughtfully out the window.

    “Well she needs to listen. And you are older so you have to say it.” Uliya says, arms crossed in the adjacent armchair.

    “Ah, no? Where did that rule come from suddenly. Especially from someone who breathes to talk.”

    She tosses her hair back, the portrait of manufactured innocence. “I am the youngest. I involuntarily have the least authority.”

    “You had our mother build a staircase from my balcony to yours by lying that you were scared. She did not even ask me before imposing.” Zir seethes.

    Uliya laughs. “That was purely to annoy you actually. I am proud of that one.”

    “If I could strangle you and get away with it, I would. You live to create trouble for me.” He delivers it in the sweetest voice, as though reciting poetry.

    “Cry to Demiurge about it later. Now listen — when she wakes up.” Uliya points in my direction and I close my eyes immediately, feigning sleep. “Tell her she does not have to do this. Our parents cannot force her to sit on that throne and would ultimately be more worried about her wellbeing than anything else. That is all.”

    These two worry about me so much. Now I feel guilty.

    “Fine. But she is not going to listen easily in a thousand years. So if she does not, you better produce those deceptive tears and cry like your life depends on it. And if you do not, I will make you.”

    “That is so mean, Zir. I am barely seventeen. How could you say that about me?” She suddenly bursts into tears and I am about to sit up and end this circus when—

    He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Exactly like that. Well done.”

    Uliya drops her hands from her face. Dry-eyed.

    These two happen to be exceptionally gifted at scheming and theatrics. I need to put a stop to their antics today. Caelen would withdraw his help the moment he sensed political danger, so I can afford to be honest while withholding certain details. That way I will not feel guilty either.

    I sit up slowly and they both immediately rise and come to settle at opposite ends of my bed.

    “What are you two doing in my room?” I ask, frowning naturally while rubbing an eye.

    “When I brought you back here after supper to talk, you passed out the moment you lay down,” Uliya says carefully.

    “And?” I gesture to Zir for water. Uliya says nothing until he fetches it. They are really committing to their respective roles.

    “And we thought — instead of fighting, the three of us should do something fun together.” Zir adds pleasantly, handing me the glass.

    I drain it before looking at them both.

    “Fine. But let me say something first.”

    “Oh,” they say in unison, visibly thrown. Probably expecting a threat.

    I sigh and snap all doors and windows shut with my fingers. “I am not going to sit on the throne. I know how to get all of us away from it. But that is all I can offer you right now. The curse is very real, I believe in it, and I will ask for help only if I need it before the crowning. I have it handled. Please do not push me for more.”

    I look up. They are both staring at me.

    Silence for a moment before they erupt simultaneously.

    “You had a plan the entire time and said nothing while we worried ourselves sick?” Uliya shrieks.

    “What do you mean we cannot push for more information. This affects the whole family, not just you.” Zir says in that quietly disappointed tone he reserves for occasions like this.

    I roll my eyes. “Do not make it my funeral now. Can the two of you not simply trust me? Have I not handled things before when I said I would? Is that what you think of your eldest sister?”

    I resort to my own theatrics, layering in a few well-placed sentences. I even briefly consider attempting Uliya’s fake cry, but it is too risky. I do not have the practice or her emotionally expressive face. They would see through it instantly.

    It works beautifully regardless. They both pause, let the words settle, and when they speak again the temperature has changed.

    “Fine. But do not do anything that puts you in danger. I refuse to watch you die for something stupid.” Uliya says, clicking her tongue, arms crossed again.

    “I will not interfere. But find a solution quickly because I am not letting you sit on that throne under any circumstance. That is not negotiable.” Zir says flatly, rising from the bed.

    “Thank you for trusting me. And I should not have to say this, but this stays between us.” I add with a small smile they reluctantly return.

    “Of course.”

    “Yes.”

    “Good. Do we still have anything fun planned for the three of us?” I emphasise the last three words, poking gently at their terrible intervention opener.

    “Do not act smart,” Uliya mutters and walks out.

    “I will still be watching out for danger,” Zir says. I nod. That seems fair.

    “Also, unrelated but can I borrow some of your lightning beads in a couple of weeks? It is for—”

    “Of course. I do not need the full explanation. I trust you.” I cut him off before he can finish.

    He nods and disappears with a steady hand of magic.

    Crisis averted, for now.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 7 – Heirs, apparently


    The average Fyrge can live up to the age of thousand, as they age very slowly. Not all of us though, Demiurge is said to have marked certain bloodlines including ours with immortality and eternal youth, thus we are called godlings. These bloodlines weren’t picked on the basis of one’s status but rather the karma of their ancestors. Ours is said to have come from Rainesta Van Valhades, a princess that never married and devoted her life to serving her subjects with generosity.  

    I was born on a night where the constellations swirled and danced across the sky. They appeared to have wrapped themselves around the twin crescent moons, gold and silver aligning at the specific moment I was born. I was given the title — Prince of Stars and said to have been marked by Demiurge.

    — Prince Ziruth Van Larsson of House Valhades, Personal Accounts of the Valhades Heirs, The Great Hall of Learning

    ~ Uliya ~

    “I let my devotion for you swallow me whole and you threw me up in bits and pieces like I was nothing more than flesh waiting to be devoured. You shattered me, Sylve, and yet when you step into the room all I want to do is beg you to glance my way. To look at me with hope for something deeper. I am held transfixed by your ever-shining light while you shoot arrows into my heart without a flinch—”

    I am unable to finish the rest of the sentence as Zir rudely snatches his diary from my hands.

    “How many times must I tell you not to touch my personal belongings, Uliya. This is an encroachment on my private world and I do not appreciate it.” He says through clenched teeth before making it disappear with a flick of his magic. It is probably lying invisible on some shelf in his bedchamber back home now.

    Cecil and Yer cease their laughter at once. I had been entertaining them with a theatrical narration of the embarrassing unsent letters he wrote to Syveline after she broke his heart. I had found the last remaining box of Zir’s things yet to be sent home through thunder and figured I might find something useful to weaponise against him later.

    “I was looking for a snack and got distracted, starshine.” I offer with a flutter of my eyelids, feigning innocence. He would not fall for it, of course, because I picked “starshine” from another old letter where Syveline had used the word to manipulate him into giving her the rare emerald pendant he had originally gotten for Luminara’s birthday, exchanging it for a garnet one instead. I have never liked Syveline or the rest of her traitor family, but I will credit her for being impressively manipulative at fourteen. Nara ended up with the garnet one. Not that it made much difference — she has an ethereal aura that makes her infinitely more striking than anyone else in Fyrgen. Any jewel is fortunate to be worn by her, not the other way around.

    He glares at me in a way that communicates I cannot afford to irritate him again for at least a few hours. Sad, but manageable.

    “If you are done wasting time, it is time for us to leave for home.”

    “Ugh, fine.” I get up with an exaggerated sigh and gesture for Yer to perch on my shoulder.

    And all four of us are swallowed by lightning, journeying back to our roots.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    In a matter of seconds we are home. The sun sits low on the horizon as if welcoming us back from exile. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and tuberose immediately, and the nostalgia of it nearly floors me. The incessant chanting of our names among the crowds makes me wonder how and why I ever left. Why was it never this enchanting during the last Council meeting I was forced to attend three years ago?

    “Why in the fallen angel’s pit did you bring us out through the back courtyard? Mama specifically asked you to stop us by the old coffee shop in the town square, where the dragon carriages are waiting to lead us through the crowds to the castle gates.” Uliya asks, eyes already narrowed.

    Cecil and Yer perch on the water fountain in front of us and tilt their heads with the same silent question.

    I click my tongue and get it out as quickly as possible. “Ah yes, about that. I feel slightly uncomfortable with the idea of parading through such close quarters with the entire population of Citrindally. So why don’t you all go? I will be in my bedchamber. See you at supper.”

    Just as I raise my hand to disappear, Cecil flies over and wraps his claws firmly around my fingers, restricting all movement. Then stares directly into my eyes with the bone-chilling bloodshot gaze I have only seen from him once before, and one that was fortunately not directed at me on that occasion.

    “Ziruth Van Larsson Valhades. I have tolerated many of your coldblood tantrums for the past six years. But I swear to Demiurge, if you try to rob me of the honour of accompanying you to this grand welcome ceremony by keeping up your reclusive ways, I will scratch your eyeballs out myself.”

    I swallow the whimper that naturally built in my throat and clear it with a cough, redirecting my gaze to the other two.

    “Always open to a change of plans,” I offer with a grimace. Uliya mutters “Loser” under her breath.

    Moments later,

    I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. It is taking every ounce of my being to keep smiling and waving to the crowds as we slip past them in the carriage. I was a fool to feel nostalgic prematurely. Uliya is in her element beside me though — she seemed nervous before but is clearly thriving on the attention now. This is the first public procession she is attending as a teenager. Mama forbade all of us from attending them before we turned thirteen, stating it would be too overwhelming for a child. Which in hindsight was a wonderful idea. I simply wish she had extended the rule until we were forty. Maybe I would be ready at forty.

    Cecil and Yer are rejoicing in the rumble seat, delighted for reasons beyond my comprehension. The good thing is I have effectively avoided being murdered by Cecil. The bond between an assigned companion and a royal runs deep enough for us to sense each other’s emotions and the tone of each other’s thoughts. So he cooled off instantly the moment he sensed I had genuinely been frightened by his threat. And I am fairly certain I even caught a flicker of guilt from him afterwards, while I used my magic to don the white three piece suit Mother had sent the moment she knew we were coming home. A ceremonial mantle is draped across my shoulders, its silver embroidery glinting in the sunlight. A pointed crown of dark sapphire sits low above my head.

    “Why are you not smiling?” Uliya says through her easy grin. Unlike my severe crown, hers is a delicate tiara of diamonds and pale gemstones resting lightly against her golden curls. She looks regal in flowing ivory layered with soft silver detailing that shimmers whenever she moves, the gown falling around her like moonlight. I notice she looks healthier than before. She is glowing like a true princess. I am glad we had that conversation.

    “How are you still smiling?” I respond sweetly, masking the agitation beneath it lest some passerby hear. Demiurge help me, why is everyone so close? It is suffocating.

    They are making our family dragon, Eltasessa — a colossal pale drake draped in gold ceremonial harnesses — crawl like a snail through the crowds. The earlier prospect of Cecil gauging my eyes out does not seem quite so terrible now. At least my eyes would not be subjected to the sight of this frenzied throng pressing in from all sides.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Uliya ~

    By the time we reach the palace gates and leave the crowds behind, my nervousness about coming home has completely dissipated. I was scared I would feel strange and anxious. But between the crowds cheering for our long lives so loudly the ground beneath us trembled, and the crimson and gold banners swaying between buildings bearing the words “Blood of Valhades, Strength of Our Realm,” I lost all the heavy feelings.

    The carriage rolls to a halt before the great twin-arched entryway, where the last gold light of evening stretches across the pale stone in long glowing bands. Beyond the gates, the great towers of Ivorvale climb into a deepening blue sky, their winter-white spires already beginning to catch the first hints of dusk.

    The other guards remain stationed in the causeway while our general, Master Hinjk, and Royal Commander Ilias step toward us from the entryway the moment we stop. The former moves to open Zir’s door while the latter opens mine with precision, both in near perfect unison. Then they step back and greet us with bows. I offer them both a smile.

    “Hello, Master Hinjk,” Zir says, then turns to the commander. “Ilias, I hope you have both been well.”

    “Better than ever. Our job is easier now that all the heirs we have sworn to protect are in one place,” Hinjk adds with a smile of his own and Zir laughs. They lead us through the entryway toward the throne room where our parents await. Cecil and Yer slip away for their own communion with Agnes.

    As we proceed I notice how different yet unchanged the palace looks from the inside. I can barely bring myself to remember some of the rooms, which is strange. Is ten really that young an age?

    “The western wing was rebuilt after you left, your highness,” Ilias answers from behind me, sensing my confusion.

    “Oh.”

    “As per the letter, is this not the solarium where you and—?” I whisper to Zir, pointing left, and am immediately rewarded with a deathly glare.

    “Keep your brazen mouth shut and stay out of my private affairs. Also, you cannot remember anything else but you recall this specific detail?” He delivers the threat in a matched whisper, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. Ilias coughs behind us while Master Hinjk pretends to be absorbed in the hallway artwork.

    A small laugh escapes me despite my best efforts to stay civil. Several maids and guards bow as we pass. He glares at me some more. It is so satisfying to get under his skin.

    Soon we are in the central throne room. The council members are seated on either side. Our parents sit at the far end, currently speaking with a female and her child who have come to request compensation for grain lost to a storm the week before.

    Mama looks radiant as ever, the silver and gold crown gleaming above her head. Her long golden hair has been neatly gathered into a bun that catches the light like the sun itself. She has worn a beautiful lilac brocade gown today with heavy drapes and elongated sleeves. To others she may be blessed with the sun god’s energy, but to me she has always been the sun embodied.

    Father sits beside her with his usual unreadable expression. He looks the same whether happy, sad, angry, calm or excited, so it is always difficult to tell. He has adorned a black sovereign robe of weighted silk with the thin but pointed iron and gold crown he reserves for throne room appearances. Soft brown boots beneath his crisp black trousers.

    Mama nods to the treasurer standing beside her and he presents the female with a translucent bag of copper coins.

    “Here is a little something for your troubles. I pray to Demiurge that your harvest comes out bountiful next time.”

    “Thank you, your majesty, for having such a generous heart.” They both bow and leave through the side gate reserved for the public.

    “Let us go,” Zir taps my palm from beside me and I realise we have been standing at the door by ourselves. Hinjk and Ilias must have slipped away.

    The public has cleared with the coming evening. Only the guards and maids remain stationed on either side. The moment we begin walking toward our parents, the pianist in the corner starts playing and the guards and maids begin throwing silver petals at us — an old Fyrgen welcoming tradition. This must absolutely have been my mother’s idea. I smother a laugh building in my throat thinking of how much Zir must be suffering and keep my face perfectly straight.

    We lower our gazes and bow in unison when we are right before them.

    “Your Majesties,” we say together. Performing for the room. If it were not for everyone watching I would run to my mother and never let go again.

    “Mhm. What brings you younglings here today?” Father says with that same unreadable expression, though I know he is teasing us. Mother smiles lightly, playing along, her eyes full of quiet affection.

    Before I can say anything Zir is already speaking.

    “Forgive my incompetence in handling such a petty matter myself, your Majesty. But I came here to beg for justice.”

    “In regard to what?”

    “This female standing beside me killed my sheep in broad daylight.”

    Mama adds a dramatic gasp. “Such a heinous crime. What do you have to say for yourself, lass?”

    I shake my head solemnly. “It was a grave mistake, your Majesty. I went to kill this simpleton and got his poor sheep by accident.”

    For a silent moment nobody says anything. Then all four of us laugh together. It feels as though there is nobody else in the room and I realise how deeply I have missed them.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    After meeting our parents and a brief introduction to the seated council members, we dispersed to our individual bedchambers for rest and a change of clothes before the welcome dinner in the private dining hall.

    Our bedchambers were also moved as part of the western wing renovation. Mine is a new one on the third floor now, Uliya’s a level below, though not too far — because my mother had another brilliant idea. Brilliant in her terms. Overbearing in mine. She had a spiral staircase connected from my balcony to Uliya’s, so we can easily access each other in case of an emergency. Us. The pair that lived in separate houses for years in the human world and have companions primarily for this exact purpose.

    “Mama always takes it one notch beyond my patience,” I say, collapsing onto the long sofa in the antechamber and kicking my shoes off the moment the door closes behind me.

    “What did she do?” Cecil pauses mid-sip from his pitcher on the mantelpiece. He was not back yet when Mama delivered this horrible news and I asked her why she remains so committed to ruining my life.

    “Go and look at the balcony. There is a staircase connecting our room to Uliya’s below. It is despicable. Prisoner-like treatment handed to her own son—”

    I stop rubbing my forehead when I realise Cecil has simply flown out. I was not finished speaking.

    I am about to call after him when he flies back in, cawing with visible excitement.

    “What are you so happy about?” I ask, irritated. Did he hear a single word I said?

    “Such proximity to Yer. If she ever needs me I can reach her within seconds. This is the best day of my life.” He literally wraps his wings around himself, savouring the thought.

    “Are you out of your mind? I was telling you how agonising this is for me and you are celebrating my misery. What grave crime must I have committed in a past life to be given such a shameless, self-serving raven as my companion?”

    “Must I indulge your cynicism at all times? I have a life separate from yours.” He dismisses me by turning his head away in that infuriating manner he has perfected, knowing full well it gets under my skin.

    “What life? You are a bird sworn to look after me.” I half-shout and seriously consider throwing the crystal figurine from the coffee table at him, when there is a knock at the door.

    “Who is it?” I ask, composing myself.

    “Luminara.”

    Of course. I had sent for her earlier and then forgotten entirely. I get up, put my shoes back on, and open the door.

    “Thank Demiurge for sending you, Lume, I—” The words dry up in my mouth. I take in her whole appearance. She has always been beautiful but now her face has matured so much in the past three years. She looks absolutely devastating. When did her raven hair grow long enough to reach below her waist? Her light brown, silver-rimmed eyes catch the lamplight as she looks up at me. Her skin has caught up with her name, illuminated as though the moon painted her face with its own light. It takes genuine effort to look up.

    “Yes, Zir, I have fuller breasts now, can you stop staring?” She leans in and says it with narrowed eyes and I immediately step back, gesturing her inside.

    I scoff and close the door behind us.

    “I was simply taking notice of my friend’s matured face. Leave it to you to make me sound like a pervert instead of saying hello after three whole years.”

    She laughs in that easy, loud, unhurried way of hers and settles into the spot I had just vacated. Comforting to know my friend has not entirely changed.

    “It is so easy to ruffle your feathers, godling. You should work on that,” she says casually, drawing her legs together at the sofa’s edge.

    I notice only now how stunning her long-sleeved mauve gown is, in its simplicity. A black opal necklace and matching earrings.

    “Cecil does not like that phrase so please use it more often,” I say, settling at the opposite end.

    She glances around. “I would oblige, your highness, but he does not appear to be here.”

    “He is just there on the mantel—” I look over my shoulder to point him out but of course Cecil has gone.

    “Never mind, leave him. He is currently honouring his freedom and individuality.”

    She leans back, confusion on her face. “Assigned companions have that?”

    I nod with feeling. “Everyone but me lately, Lume. You would not believe what new torture my mother has subjected me to.”

    She clicks her tongue. “Well, knowing the queen, it has to be something interesting.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Uliya ~

    After meeting our parents I came straight to my bedchamber, not even bothering to look at the beautiful high teak shelves stacked on all three walls with my books in the antechamber. I just had Yer pull my back zipper down with her beak and collapsed onto the bed.

    “I just want to rest and skip dinner entirely. Does that make me a bad daughter?” I say, face half buried in the pillow.

    “No, it makes you a reasonable person. You have been up and about since morning, Ul. Rest a little before we leave.” Yer says from the desk in the corner where she has settled herself.

    I rest my eyes for a few minutes before there is a knock at the door.

    “Hello, may I ask who this is?” Yer calls out politely. I wish I had her patience.

    “Kushiana. I am coming in.”

    I hear her approaching footsteps and look over my shoulder.

    She is already dressed. Her dark brown medium length hair has been styled into a thick braid with dandelions lined through the plaits. She has adorned a sleeveless black shimmery gown with a sweetheart neckline resting just below her long collarbone, a double layered georgette skirt falling beneath it. Her eyes are lined with kohl, accentuating her pretty green almond shaped eyes. No jewellery except the magnificent blue sapphire ring she often wears. My sister is so unbothered about her clothes yet always stands out.

    I turn over and gasp. “You are drenched in beauty from top to bottom. How will the bachelors at our table eat without choking?”

    She sidelines the compliment with a slight wave of her hand. Right — on top of everything else, she is also incredibly modest.

    She comes and sits beside me at the edge of the bed. “I came to see if you needed anything. Did the maids bring your dress?”

    “Not yet. The new seamstress cast a single look at me from the far end of the lobby and disappeared, leaving Yer with a message that she needs to fix my corset.”

    Kushiana caresses the top of my head, smiling. “Well that is a good thing. You are going to fill in better now.”

    I cringe. “Was it that obvious?”

    She nods. “I wanted to say something that day but I lost my temper and left before I could. I am sorry about the outburst. You did not deserve it. Zir perhaps deserved a little of it. He is an unyielding prick.”

    I laugh. “Yes he is. And it is fine, we have forgotten about it.”

    She starts to say something and stops. I take her hands in mine.

    “Whatever you choose, we support you. Do not worry about anything. We will be here now.”

    “I will not worry, if you two promise not to get in my way,” she says flatly.

    I pout. “I cannot promise that. Do not be an unreasonable elder sister.”

    She smiles and pinches the tip of my nose. “Then neither can I. Let us talk about something else, Ul.”

    “Alright. Are you still training with Hinjk?”

    She nods and leans back on her elbows. “Yes, we trained on the enormous staircase in the Citadel today. Completely destroyed my calves.”

    “Sounds horrendous. I ask because now that I am back I need to start training again as well. I find him slightly intimidating so I am trying to figure out who to approach.”

    Also because I remain wary of everyone in the palace after the Apateus incident. I say nothing of this since Kushiana does not know either.

    She looks up in thought. “It cannot be me, I am always occupied with training or some royal duty. We could ask one of the guards, but I do not think they could help beyond physical training — your thralling power is a little complex for anyone outside the family to understand. Actually, why not go to Luminara? Who better?”

    Luminara had trained alongside Kushiana under Hinjk until two years ago, after which she began self-training to focus more on her magic and herb alchemy. And I have always trusted her completely, which makes the idea of training together feel easy rather than daunting.

    I squeal. “Of course, why did I not think of her? She is perfect and she would never say no!” I pull Kushiana into a hug. “Thank you, I love you.”

    She pats my back like I am a lost dog who has wandered in from the rain, forcing a “love you too” out in her crispest voice. Both my siblings are completely incapable of receiving affection for some reason. Arguments they cherish. Absolute idiots.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

                                                          ~ Kushiana ~

    For dinner we all gathered in the dining hall of the western wing, built entirely of rose quartz, its walls catching the warmth of the candlelight and throwing it back in soft blush tones. A large chandelier of white crystals resembling lilies hangs high above the table, casting everything below in a pale silver glow.

    It was initially my suggestion that we keep it a private family dinner, but our parents decided a small feast was more fitting. The council members, Master Hinjk and Royal Commander Ilias had all expressed their wish to be part of the celebration and raise a glass to Zir and Uliya’s return after so long. I understood the reasoning, even if I would have preferred otherwise.

    In truth I am not entirely opposed to the company. A fuller table gives Zir fewer opportunities to say something provoking and cause a scene. Here he is required to be on his best behaviour, and Luminara sitting to his right has his attention well occupied regardless. She is visibly happy to have her closest friend back after three years. He is happier than I have seen him in a long time, which is unsurprising given she is the only true friend he has here, courtesy of his reclusive nature.

    Father sits at the head of the long rectangular table. Mother has chosen the seat to his left this evening rather than her usual place at the foot. I am seated beside her, with Uliya to my right. Zir sits to Uliya’s right and Luminara to his. Across from Uliya and me sit Hinjk and Ilias, and beyond them the High Councillor, with the remaining six noble house and council members spread across both sides of the table to the foot.

    Our companions have chosen to remain in our private chambers as they do for most meals, to keep our thoughts from drifting back to work and correspondence so we can eat in peace. They tend to use these breaks to convene amongst themselves.

    For a moment I let the warmth of the conversation wash over me, watching everyone at the table. The meal begins with a toast from Father. “Here is to my beloved wains returning home. I pray to Demiurge that we share many more dinners like this one. To Zir and Uliya.”

    I notice both my siblings are genuinely glad to be back. Uliya grabs my idle hand in hers with barely contained excitement, and Zir offers me a small smile that reaches his eyes as we raise our glasses.

    I am glad to have them here too. But the fear of the hex still looms. I hope I do not carry it toward them. They are mine to protect. I cannot remember a time when they were not.

    “Kush, want to split a wishbone?” Uliya beams at me, lifting it from her plate. The turkey was delectable this evening.

    “Sure.” We both pull and she ends up with the larger half.

    She shrieks with delight, completely unaware that my wish was for all of hers to come true.

    I simply smile.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 6 – A Timeless Tale of Fox and Deer

    Over the centuries, the folklore, fate, and folly of the Fyrges have been altered significantly through events caused either by their own actions or by the hands of Demiurge.

    An ancient saying, coined sometime after the death of Lars, sought to encapsulate the ever-changing nature of life on the continent:

    “A fawn so absorbed in the twig between its teeth that it ignores the rustling leaves behind it invites death. But so does the fox that lunges at a fawn too cavalier to run.”

    — The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall Of Learning

    ~ Kushiana ~

    A chill crawls down my spine as I stand before the large black wall that spreads miles, dividing Fyrgen and Xerat. The reason is not the atmosphere but the conversation with my father earlier. I had asked him if it would be possible to shift my crowning by a couple of weeks. He neither denied nor approved it outright, but said he would convene a meeting with the members of the Council. They decided against any further delay today. The night the twin moons turn blue comes once in three millennia and is considered an extraordinarily propitious occasion for a new heir to be crowned. Unfortunately, that is only six months away.

    “Nothing will hurt you. You are going to be fine,” Agnes says lightly, keeping her reassurance casual. She knows I hardly listen when my thoughts start spiralling, but it does not help that I have ruminated in silence since leaving my father’s chamber.

    “Maybe. But I have to be prepared.” By suffering through it in my own mind before it actually happens, it might hurt less.

    Before Agnes can counter or add to the dead conversation, fast frigid winds begin blowing all around us until a portal of blue light opens slowly before us, and the icemale steps out as effortlessly as ever.

    “Halló, sweet dame.” Caelen’s warm, heavy voice is always such a contrast to the graveyard of ice and stone he was raised in. A male of enduring charisma, standing a couple of inches over six feet. The crimson lips beaming against his pale skin always have me transfixed, and his piercing silver-lavender gaze slices through me like I am a mere block of nothingness in his cold world.

    His eyes never leave mine, but I can tell he scans me from foot to crown as he says, “Highly appreciate the precision with which you are undressing me mentally, but I prefer greetings to be exchanged first. Perhaps a little dialogue before we proceed to…”

    I fix him with a challenging glare, daring him to finish that sentence. He responds with that shameless, maddening grin instead.

    “You have got to stop feeding the straying delusions of your mind.”

    “Endearingly sentimental, as always.” He flashes his crooked grin before wrapping his hand around mine and pulling both Agnes and me into the portal.

    Hardly a moment passes before we land in his safe house. A truly cosy, firelamp-lit retreat for us to scheme in. It is so remote that only Xerata and Caelen know its location, though it was merely a gift to him since she has not bothered to appear here in over a decade. I imagine her choice of comfort no longer extends beyond the diamond throne.

    “Any specific agenda for your visit today, princess?” he says, pouring cranberry wine into one of the two glasses already levitating in the air between us.

    Agnes lets out a disapproving coo, which prompts him to arrange a bowl of sweet nectar for her. She disappears into the corner.

    It is hard to believe we have only met twice before. The first time I ran into him was by accident, at the autumn ball, while I was trying to avoid the court ladies who kept pressing me to seek a lover. It did not help that I was already miserable because of Zir and Uliya’s absence, announced at the last minute through correspondence. My corset felt tight, like it was designed to choke me. I rushed toward the back alley of the Odolith and collided with him. The close contact with a stranger startled me, but his scent was so fresh, cedar-filled and misty, that I could not help but look up. Despite the mask, it was obvious this male did not belong to Citrindally. He sensed my distress quickly. All it took was him asking, “Are you alright there?” for me to burst into tears. I simply could not bury my emotions any longer, and as embarrassing as the outburst was, he got me out of there fast, to my preferred stargazing spot on the hill behind the palace. We sat in silence. Neither of us said anything. I felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders, like I could breathe easily for the first time in a long while.

    “Who are you? I can tell you are not from here,” I asked him eventually.

    “Someone who should not be here at all. Yet I have no choice,” he replied calmly.

    I did not press further. Eventually I rose, realising the guards would be looking for me. He offered to walk me back to the palace gates. We made our way down the hilly path until I heard my guard Slovak’s voice calling for me, growing closer. By the time I turned to thank the stranger, he was gone. I found myself wondering if he had ever been there at all.

    The second time…

    “Ally with me against the cursed tradition my family has held for centuries,” I say outright, before Caelen has even had the chance to hang our coats on the stand.

    He raises an eyebrow but arrives at a tone of agreement with surprising speed.

    “And what is in it for me?”

    “I will find your sister.”

    He cocks his head, then laughs. “You realise if it were that simple, she would be sitting beside me right now? There are countless Fyrges out there. How would you even identify her from the brief description I managed to get out of Xayla?”

    Xayla’s his grandmother, one of the most powerful witches in our world. She’s also the only one who bothered telling him he has a sister somewhere in Fyrgen—on the condition Xerata not learn of it until after he’s found her.

    I grin, pure sarcasm probably evident on my face. “You should be more worried about whether she would stay once she learns how obnoxiously arrogant you are, snowflake.”

    He considers this for a moment, well aware that I may be the only one with the resources to find her. His eyes soon darken and his expression turns grave. “Your plans are perilous enough to set the entirety of Fyrgen aflame, Kushiana.” It is the first time I have heard him say my name, and I find it vaguely unsettling.

    “Is the frost giant afraid of a little adventure?” I offer the words with a bite, the kind that gets under his skin immediately.

    He swallows whatever retort he had and collapses onto the couch with a whoosh of wind, patting the spot beside him. “Run me through your ideas. Best we eliminate all the ridiculous ones straight away.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Zir ~

    I walk into the parlour the next morning to behold an interesting sight. Uliya is reading aloud from my hideously worn scroll of Fyrgen’s oldest folklore while Yer and Cecil listen eagerly from the top of the mantelpiece.

    “And then the male cursed the entire royal bloodline with—”

    “It appears to be a good morning indeed. We are already discussing cursed bloodlines.”

    She scoffs with disdain and folds the scroll lightly, declaring, “We will continue the session once he is gone.”

    “From here, or for good?” Cecil adds begrudgingly. The great thing about close relations is that you often find them cross with you for no good reason. But life goes on. Especially for our kind.

    I smile and pour myself some water with a snap of my fingers. “So what are your plans for your last day here, sister?”

    She rises, dismissing the question with a slight wave of her hand. “None that concern you. I am free to bask in my last shred of human-disguised liberty tonight.”

    “Fair. Just be here by morning.” I respond with indifference while hydrating. Uliya may be up to no good as per habit, but I have a full day ahead to keep myself occupied.

    She lands one of her sweetest defiant smiles on me and a chill travels down my back like a rush of water from a mountain. Demiurge protect her. I cannot deal with her absurdities today, so I simply smile in return.

    “I will leave now,” I bid her goodbye.

    Cecil perches on my shoulder and I circle a steady hand around us, making us emerge directly outside the ministerial estate.

    “Go keep yourself busy. Only answer if I call.” I murmur to him and he disappears into the nearby forest. I quickly straighten the lapels of my blue blazer and walk inside toward my office, where I find Estella, a warm-faced woman in her mid-forties with ink-stained fingers and a holy locket she touches more often than she breathes, attempting to sort through a tumbling mess of land treatises. Two slip from her hand, only to be caught in my grip as she stumbles backward.

    “Oh, sire, apologies. We were not expecting you this early.” She bows, sporting her half-embarrassed smile.

    “Thought I would do you all a favour by making an early appearance on my last day.”

    “Not your last! Your last day here. God bless you with a long life ahead, sire. Perhaps rephrase that for the rest of the day?”

    She touches her holy locket to her forehead and says a quiet prayer. How comical, to have her praying unknowingly to one god to save another. She never changes.

    I laugh and head into my office to collect the last of the papers I am to review and stamp. Or pretend to review and stamp until she disappears for some errand. My powers allow me to do it with the flick of a finger. I usually only keep up the theatrics until my office is clear of all human life. When I first joined here as an apprentice to another retired minister, they were in considerable awe of my pace in sorting everything out. With magic, navigating the job ladder proved easy enough. Initially, I felt like an imposter hiding my abilities, but eventually there was simply nothing else to do. So, for the past five years, I have been playing the role of a diligent worker.

    A few minutes into the act, Estella appears after a knock, holding an envelope with my name on top.

    “We received a letter for you this morning. No address or stamp on the outside. Only your first name.”

    I nod. She hands it over and leaves quietly, closing the door behind her.

    The name is handwritten not just in red ink but in one smeared with intoxicating nostalgia and the scent of wild poppies, the kind that captures my soul and almost stops my breath. A tear slips out and falls over the name, but the “Zir” stays intact. Havburthian blend.

    I steady my sinking heart and open it with unsteady fingers. My blurring vision threatens to make it impossible to continue, but I bring myself to read on.

    Dear Z,

    I hope all is going well for you. You must think me shameless to write after all these years, and I reckon I am. But you are the only person I could bring myself to think of at this moment.

    I cannot bear to explain everything, but my precious father has caught an illness deemed untreatable by the forest healer Hjalati. It has been catching on to him slowly for the past three months. Initially he showed some recovery through the lejonese herbs, but his condition has only worsened this past week. Hjalati believes he is on the brink of death. It may come to claim him as soon as the next full moon.

    As you already know, we are not permitted to step outside Lejonet because of our strained relations with the Council. My family thinks it vain for me to write to you or any member of the royal household at all. They have slowly accepted his death even before it has come.

    The ink appears smeared over the next lines, likely by a tear.

    But I beg of you, Zir. Please do something. My father is the most pristine soul alive. He should not be punished for the sins of my ancestors. It is unjust and deeply cruel. If you can find it in you, please forgive me. And speak to her royal highness. Please.

    I will wait for your reply. Hopefully it will not take as long as the years I took to write back to you. But it is perfectly alright if this is beyond your reach. I would still love you the same.

    Sylve

    I realise the letter has crumpled slightly in my hand from how tightly I held it. I cannot turn my back on her. Nivun deserves to live. I will find a way, even if my parents do not approve. I am gifted with a paper cut while hurriedly folding it back and shoving it inside the envelope.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~ Uliya ~

    I find myself standing on the dewy cobblestones. Mrs Fairweather must have watered her garden sometime before dawn. It is harder to say my goodbyes than I expected. All the friends I have made in the human world are a door away, waiting for me to come to my own farewell party. I did not use magic to get here today. I took the local carriage, one last time.

    I left Yer behind as well. Even though I have told everyone here that she is my pet dove — they doubted whether doves made appropriate pets, then assumed it was possible among the affluent. She would have soothed my nerves. I have been standing here for the past fifteen minutes, and with every minute that passes it becomes harder to take the steps. Neza, Ariel and Liliana have each come and peered out of the window one by one, awaiting my arrival. And here I am in my mist form, hiding behind the tree in their garden, too much of a coward to become corporeal.

    I consider running back to Zir’s mansion to hide. They cannot come looking for me there since they do not know I have a brother. I still have my apartment, but that is a risk.

    Then suddenly I feel her warmth all around me and straighten my posture. “Mama, are you here?” I ask inside my mind and my mother’s image appears. She is in her private dining chamber taking her supper, Nysleon resting by the window beside her. “My darling child,” she responds in her ever-sweet voice. “Why are you not going inside? Your friends are so eagerly waiting for you.” I must have been extraordinarily anxious for her to sense it and reach out. The sun god gave her the gift of reaching into the minds of those she loves, but she seldom uses it. She deems the idea deeply invasive. Everyone believes the Queen of Citrindally values jewels and status above all else, but the family knows my mother values nothing more than individual freedom and the people she loves.

    A tear slips out. “It is so hard to say goodbye, Mama. They are bidding farewell to a crook. I was never honest with them about where I come from. My immortal Fyrgen life that ages a hundred times slower than theirs, my companion, my royal family. I feel so ashamed. They are my friends and I have been utterly dishonest with them at every turn.”

    “Never. I raised a brave, sweet child who makes everyone’s day a little brighter. As Fyrges we have been taught since birth never to reveal our origins to humans. A human who learns of our world trades their life for it. You have done the right thing, do not blame yourself. And I did not invade your thoughts, but it seems you share a great many colourful memories with those girls. Hold tightly to them and walk through that door.”

    I frown. “You are right. I was overcomplicating it. I do not know why I do that.”

    She sighs. “A trait inherited from your father. It was a moment of weakness and it has passed. Go and rejoice with your friends. Your heart is not pumping quite so fast anymore.”

    “Thank you. I miss you, Mama. Save me the warmest hug for tomorrow.”

    She smiles. “The warmest one is always yours. Your brother has real ice running through his veins, so do I even need to say it?”

    I shake my head. “No. I already know you love me more than the other two.”

    “Absolutely,” she offers as goodbye and vanishes from my mind.

    I grin to myself, step into my corporeal form and run toward the doorway to see my girls.

    We end up celebrating well into the night, all of them wildly optimistic about my future as a jewellery heiress in the citadel. Because yes, I had to kill off the affluent fake aunt I invented, as an excuse for my sudden departure from the village. Ironically this is the lie I feel the least guilty about. Perhaps because we Valhades are so accustomed to the concept of untimely death, particularly ones we orchestrated ourselves.

    My friends baked me a strawberry and raspberry cream cake as a goodbye gift. We danced all evening at the local tavern and spent the rest of the night laughing and revisiting memories from the past few years. In the morning they bid me farewell, and I returned to the mansion.

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

  • Chapter 5 – The Wolf Parades In Sheep’s Clothing

    Before you read: This chapter contains depictions of child abuse, including physical violence and emotional manipulation. Please take care of yourself and read at your own pace. If you’re not in a good headspace right now, you might choose to read this later.

    The Supreme Assembly, held after the gates were secured, set the fate of the continent for the coming centuries. The majority of leaders voted in favour of the policies we currently uphold across every state of Fyrgen. But exceptions always exist, and Xerata has always been one. Her husband, Commander Lloyd Thrymcrag, one of the great leaders who played a prominent role in bringing newfound freedom to our continent, passed away from an ailing heart days after the war was won. Xerata did not waste time grieving as the day of the Supreme Assembly’s meeting drew near.

    She created a meticulous scroll outlining the joint vision she and Lloyd had held for the world. It was in direct contrast to what the other leaders had in mind and was thus declined. However, the fallen commander’s contributions to the continent’s fate could not be diminished, and so they granted Xerata the freedom to rule the vast north-western piece of the continent, the land where she was born, as a gift to her and Lloyd for their benevolence. She was free to run it however she wished. No policies or rules stretching across the rest of the continent would apply there.

    Thus the Xerat Mountains were blessed with the eternal gift of autonomy and self-governance. But there was a condition, one promptly accepted by Xerata. Current or future rulers of Xerat would never be granted the right to participate in decisions made by the Council.

    — The Foundation of Fyrgen Archives, The Great Hall Of Learning

    ~ Kushiana ~

    “The temperatures are soaring higher than usual today. Don’t you think?”

    I ask Agnes, who sits perched atop the marble water fountain in front of me. After an intense training session with Hinjk, cleaning up, and visiting around seven households in the Quaser to discuss improving their living conditions, all I can bring myself to do is collapse onto the garden bench.

    “The temperature is fairly regular. You must be heating up at the idea of seeing your frost nemesis later,” she says with just the right amount of teasing in her voice.

    I hate that her words get me flustered instantly. An image of the towering, winter-pale prince and that infuriatingly easy smile flashes through my mind. There is nothing particularly remarkable about Caelen’s features on their own, yet somehow his face still manages to linger.

    “I sincerely hope you choke on fresh worms today,” I reply as nonchalantly as possible. If she finds out it is affecting me, it will only get worse from here.

    “I would say the same, but you take forever to chew through a piece of dry lamb.”

    “Save some of that kindness for later, Aggy. We might need it when we cross the mountain warriors.”

    “Gladly, my princess.”

    I continue lying in silence for the next few minutes, the sounds of the forest, the water fountain and the buzzing of bees working as excellent inducements of an ill-timed slumber.

    Katherine’s voice reaches my ears and breaks my focus. I open my eyes to find her standing right beside me. Funny, I can barely hear her footsteps sometimes. She is wearing a subtle but beautiful blue silk gown today, her hair woven into a crown as per tradition. She extends a graceful bow in greeting.

    “Your Highness, I have a message from the king. He is in the privy chamber and has requested your presence. Nothing largely crucial, only that his schedule has cleared and he wishes to speak.”

    I give her a quick nod and rise.

    “Surely. Your agility in conveying messages is always appreciated, Katherine. You may rest. I am leaving to visit a friend after seeing Father.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦

    ~Zir~  

    As soon as we are back in the manor, Uliya gives me the generous sisterly gift of forced silence, slipping into the leather sofa with a glass of wine and completely ignoring my presence. Since I have already had dinner and am the most stubborn of the three of us, I play along and get back to the codex I had to abandon earlier because of her antics. Yer and Cecil tired of us and left after ten minutes.

    Around an hour later, she speaks.

    “Seriously? You dragged me out of there like the fallen angel had rained the worst upon your drab manor, and now you are the one refusing to speak to me?”

    She says it through clenched teeth and I finally look up from my book to offer her a look of genuine confusion.

    “I am the one refusing to speak? You have made it abundantly clear through your face and posture how open you are to dialogue since we returned. What were you expecting me to do? I was waiting until you were ready.”

    “Ready?” She scoffs with pure disdain. “No, Zir. I have not been ready since we came here. And you have done nothing to help me out of it. In fact you never even acknowledge it.”

    I set the book down on the side table and cross my legs.

    “Every time I try to bring it up you snap at me, Uliya. So tell me, how exactly am I supposed to help you through it?”

    She leans back further and crosses her arms, fixing me with a look of visible frustration. The conversation is about to get significantly more complicated.

    “Spoken like a good brother, Zir. You are the one, entrusted with the responsibility of looking after me for the past six years, yet you act as though I am the one supposed to initiate every difficult conversation.”

    “I accept that I am not good at initiating conversations, let alone difficult ones within the family. But that does not mean I ever closed myself off to you. I wanted you to stay here with me more than anything. But the moment you turned thirteen you decided to get your own place and came up with that story about being an affluent orphan with an aunt who sees to your comfort. Do you think that did not hurt? Yet I tried to support you. I simply did not want you to feel caged here. And Uliya, do not get me started on the debau—”

    I do not finish the sentence, realising too late I should have phrased it differently. She agrees, because she does not hesitate to send the glass vase beside her in the direction of my head. I deflect it with mine and it shatters on the carpet.

    “How dare you. You have no idea what I have endured that shaped me this way. Just because you are still pathetically holding onto one female from your past and refusing to let anyone else in does not mean the rest of us have to live the same way.”

    She is yelling now, complete resentment and rage swirling in her pale copper eyes, and I will admit it unsettles me. So I exhale and reply, “You are right. I apologise for that. It was not my place. Please sit. I am truly sorry.”

    It calms her faster than I expected. She sinks back into the recliner, the last of the shadows leaving her eyes.

    I give her a moment and a glass of cold water before continuing.

    “We have clearly had very different experiences, and I have failed to keep up with yours the way you have kept track of mine. I admit I could have handled things better. It was wrong of me to assume you needed space when what you needed was for me to understand and speak to you. But we cannot keep fighting and shutting each other out forever. So please, talk to me.”

    She clicks her tongue, unable to hold my gaze. For someone who spends most of her day communicating, Uliya goes remarkably silent when uncomfortable topics arise between us.

    “I just felt like you were pushing me away. I understand that you have never liked spending time on others. Books and community work have always been your true escape, not because you despise others but because that is what you love. But what you failed to see was that…”

    She looks up, a tear slipping down her cheek.

    “I was not made like that. You left home at sixteen, but I was only ten, Zir. I did not know better than to cling to you. You were never cruel or absent, but you felt distant. Being your ten year old sister, my whole world was you. But as I grew older I started feeling disconnected, and came to the conclusion that you wanted to keep your life separate from mine. So I forced myself to create one of my own. And you never made much effort to reach out after I left either. I wanted to talk to our parents about it but I knew they would say it was all happening because of our decision to leave home, that we were the ones responsible for tearing the family apart. I tried to talk to Kush about it but she was already drowning in her own responsibilities. It broke me even further. I have never hated you, but I had to make you feel like I did. So the rare contact between us would not break me instead.”

    Her words are so rare and so honest that I cannot help but sink to my knees in front of her. I did fail her through my ignorance. I do not interrupt her, because I know she has more to say.

    “And about the women. It is deeper and darker than you think. Nobody creates an addiction overnight. Something happened that broke me. Something I could not talk about. I do not know if I still can.”

    I lift her chin gently. “Of course you can. Maybe not right now if you are not ready. But I am listening, Uliya.”

    She shakes her head and the crying deepens. “It is abysmal, Zir. You are never going to look at me the same way again.” I have seen her cry before, but never like this, and it unsettles me in a way she never has. Uliya always seemed the most composed of the three of us, even more so than Kushiana and I.

    “I just—”

    Her voice breaks on two words and I move to the edge of the recliner, pulling her into a hug. She will speak when she is ready. The best I can do is be here until then.

    We sit in silence as she sobs. As heavy as this moment is, I am grateful she is finally letting herself feel what she has held hostage for so many years. My parents always considered me the closed off one, given how little I say. But it is actually Uliya, the chattiest of us, who buries her unspoken pain the deepest.

    “Do you remember Apateus?”

    She asks it after a long silence. I search my memory.

    “Yes, I believe he was the young assistant in the treasury Father briefly appointed when we were still home. From Zephridge, if I recall. He left for Xerat later on.”

    She nods, still flushed from crying.

    “What about him?”

    “How do you remember him, Zir?”

    “He seemed a decent enough fellow. Capable, always helped around the palace beyond just the treasury. I remember Mama being appreciative of him. Kushiana and he were even pals at some point, I think. He lived in the palace for most of his tenure.”

    “Since you asked. He was not polite when he told me, ‘Your father is ashamed to have you as a child. He said you are of no use to him. That you have no magical abilities or royal companion at age nine, when your siblings had theirs at five.’”

    It takes a moment to comprehend the words, and then, like waves breaking against a shore, rage sweeps through me all at once.

    “What?”

    She nods quietly. “There were other things too. He demanded I visit him alone in the old audience chamber behind the garden through the secret passageway, many nights. He would sit on Father’s throne and decide my punishment for whatever small mistake he deemed I had made that day. Once he struck me three times across the back with a cane for spilling a spoonful of oatmeal on my dress at breakfast. Another time he made me hold my palms out flat and burnt my fingertips with candlewax for not smiling at him when he passed me in the hallway. The marks never lasted. He always made sure of that, healing every wound with magic before morning so nobody would ever have cause to ask. When Mama fell ill for a few days, he told me she was dying because I had made her run after me when I chased rabbits in the courtyard, that she had stepped on a poisonous stone that would kill her. I recall it word for word, Zir. He said, ‘If the queen dies because of you, every Fyrge in the continent will come after you with that same stone.’”

    She manages to continue through the sobs, and I feel everything inside me collapse with grief for the small, sweet girl she was. The one I swore to protect the day our mother first placed her in my arms. I should have seen it. I was right there and I saw nothing. He healed every mark before I could sense a thing. I looked after her through the day and thought that was enough. It was nowhere near enough.

    I do not weep. I find I cannot. What rises in me instead is a numbness, beneath which something ancient and furious is stirring.

    “How dare he. That sick scoundrel. He played the part of a humble servant while doing these unspeakable things to you. I will rip the skin off of his bone—”

    She scoffs and breaks into laughter, more out of bitterness than anything else.

    “Can you, though? He is in Xerat now, remember? Isolated and completely protected from Fyrgen Crown Law. The violator chose a wonderful place for refuge. He left before anyone could catch him in the act. And when I finally found the courage to speak about it, I went to Father. The man I loved and trusted most. Do you know what he did, Zir?”

    The answer is already written on her face but I wait for her to say it.

    “He did not even register a moment of shock or anger. He said, ‘Uliya, you are so young. You must have misunderstood the playful antics of someone who sees you as a younger sister. The boy is long gone regardless. As long as he did not force himself onto you, let it go. Focus on channeling your magic so you can get your royal companion like your siblings. However late it comes. Do not seek trouble, you already have much to learn.’”

    The words connect with other memories, one by one. My mother telling me Uliya was not coming out of her room and had stopped seeing her friends. My father brushing it off, saying younglings could be moody and she would come around. The day I asked her to come with Lume and me to Tyutir and she barely shook her head and stayed in bed. Kushiana telling me Uliya had asked Esmeralda, her lady in waiting, to sleep in her room every night because of the nightmares. And then…

    I stand up.

    “Is this why you clung to me that afternoon? Why you refused to let me leave Fyrgen without you, why you came with me immediately instead of waiting until you were older? Not because of the curse, but because of this?”

    She looks up at me with glassy eyes and nods.

    “Because you were the only one I trusted to keep me safe, even without fully understanding why.”

    A whirlwind of grief, guilt and regret settles over me completely. I have been this wrong before, but never about something that mattered this much.

    “And I failed you too,” is all I can find to say. It comes out less like a confession and more like something I am only now truly understanding.

    “Not entirely. You did keep me safe. You inspired me to become my own person, supported me through more than you realise, even when you did not fully understand what I was carrying. It is not your fault you could not read my mind. I should have come to you sooner. I simply assumed everyone already knew what was happening. When he was gone and Yer was assigned to me, she was the one who told me to speak up, that what had happened was not normal. I confided in the wrong person first and refused to revisit it with Yer again after that. And because of the confidentiality bond between us, she could not pass it to your companions either.”

    “At nine, Uliya. You were nine.” The words come out barely above a murmur. “I should be asking your forgiveness for the rest of my life.”

    She shrugs and uses her power to float a cold glass of water across the room toward me.

    “Hydrate. You look hideous when you are sad and confused.”

    I take it, saying nothing for a moment as I think through what comes next when we return home. Xerata’s laws forbid us from setting foot in those peaks without her consent. Even as royalty in the rest of Fyrgen, in her lands we are bugs waiting to be crushed.

    “Zir?”

    “Yes?”

    “I have never truly blamed you for any of it. Most of what I said came out of anger. Honestly I did not even understand the full weight of what those years had done to me until I met Liliana here. She told me about something similar her sister had faced, and that was the first time I understood that what happened to me was not something to simply carry and move past. I did not have the words for it until I was fourteen.”

    I rest my hand gently on her head.

    “My fault or not, I will correct it. I will find a way. His reckoning will come, I give you my word.”

    She is quiet for a moment. Then she stands, meeting my eyes.

    “I will be the one to deliver it. With my own sword.”

    We both extend our hands and form an X with the magic rising from our fingers, binding and sealing the spell between us.

    “Demiurge aid us in our quest.”

    ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦ ✾ ✦