“You romanticize it, sister,” he teased, stretching arms wide. “Oh yes, soaring through the skies, high above all troubles—freeas the wind!”
His mocking theatrics drew a giggle I couldn’t contain. I knew too well the grueling reality of dragon riding—the strength demanded to handle a creature’s every surge and dive, the endless drills to build up endurance, and the discipline to avoid blacking out mid-flight. Young dragons could soar for days and their riders required discipline.
After all, crossing a vast sea with nowhere to land brought its own indignities—things better left undiscussed in polite company.
As we approached the private entrance to the ballroom, a lightness eased into my chest. No matter the hardships, Ronan always found a way to lift my spirits. He’d get into trouble—I’d pull him out. And I’d never regretted a moment of it.
A bittersweet smile ghosted over my lips at the thought of him leaving. With whirlstorms approaching, we wouldn’t dare risk Gyrak in the skies. Once he departed, I would truly be alone—left with only my ladies’ maids. Edith, my steadfast nursemaid since childhood, and Scythe, my handmaid and closest friend. But neither could replace my brother.
I straightened my spine, sealing away the ache. This was my life, my duty. I would take it as it came.
We moved through corridors unfamiliar to me—not that many weren’t—and stopped before a towering set of doors. A squire worked through the line of assembled nobles, scratching notes onto a long parchment. His sleeves bore a modest puff, a mark of his position within the royal staff. Beside him stood a man with a hawkish nose and bushy white brows that cried out for a trim, his sleeves billowing in an exaggerated display of rank.
They glanced up as we neared, and the squire hurried forward, cuffing a small boy at his side, who scurried down the hall like a startled mouse.
“Your Highnesses! Welcome! Right this way, if you please!” He gestured for us to bypass the line.
I maintained an amicable grin, eyes straight ahead. Even so, the vivid pinks and purples adorning the women caught my attention. My preference leaned toward muted shades, deep tones. Yet as this kingdom’s future princess, I needed to embody its elegance, to appear as though I belonged. One day, as queen, I would set the fashion standard.
A nervous thrill wound tight as Ronan guided me closer to those giant doors. White as bone, they stood engraved with delicate, gilded trees that stretched upward, reaching for the vaulted ceiling. I marveled at the workmanship—a forest inviting me to step forward, to lose myself in its gleaming depths of ivory and gold. I imagined brushing my fingers over the smooth curves and carved hollows, as though a single touch might pull me into that shimmering world.
No art within this palace would escape my prying eyes. I wanted to explore each carved panel, study every painted ceiling and century-old vase. These halls would become mine to know and cherish, and one day, I would leave my own touch in its decor, something worthy of these storied walls.
“His Highness, Prince Tallon of Radaan, will descend the opposite staircase and–”
“Take my sister, yes,” Ronan interrupted with a low growl, silencing the page.
I pinched his forearm, a warning hidden in the pressure.Manners, brother.
“Yes, Your Highness.” The page nodded, stiff and curt. “Once they reach the landing, you may descend in turn.”
A mischievous smirk pulled at the corner of Ronan’s lip. “Right behind you, Princess.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his antics. Mother would have set propriety aside and smacked him without a second thought.
A boy, no older than seven, scurried over, breathless, as he tugged at the man’s overcoat.
The squire scribbled a quick note on his parchment before signaling to the guards with a brisk wave. “Yes, yes. This way, Your Highnesses!”
I drew in a slow breath, careful to keep it hidden from watchful eyes, and steadied myself as the massive doors pulled open.
A tide of cheerful conversation rolled over me like a fog, thick and hazy, while the dense, cloying smell of perfume and flowers crowded my senses. I gripped Ronan’s arm, and he flexed beneath my grasp—a silent promise. He wouldn’t leave me. Not yet.
For one last evening, he stood beside me.
Light from mirrored chandeliers and wall-mounted lanterns cascaded over the stairs, the plush red carpet running down to a matching set of doors on the opposite side. My stare locked onto them as they cracked open, my heart thrumming with the anticipation of finally laying eyes on Prince Tallon.
A man stood silhouetted there, his piercing green gaze catching mine across the expanse. Nervous butterflies swarmed in my belly as his mouth curved into a crooked smirk. The crown resting in his raven-dark hair gleamed, its embedded diamonds and emeralds sparkling against the backdrop of his regal bearing. There was no mantle for the prince then.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Tallon of Radaan!”
A faint dizziness swept over me as I took in his form. Tall and lean, he carried a hint of lingering boyhood awkwardness, though at nineteen, he was on the cusp of something more formidable. He would stand just above my height. Still, even from this distance, his face seemed kind—and sober.
“Heir of King Kallias Sunspear! Son of the late Queen Eldeiade!”
Did he get those intense green eyes from his mother? Would his frame one day rise to match that of his father’s imposing breadth and stature?
With a twist of his body, he swept into a bow, his gaze still locked on mine. A flicker of insolence lurked in that look, as if he were mocking us. My grin wavered, unsteady with a pulse of nerves.
