Page 23 of Crownless Heirs

“Sorcha,” Kyron said as he walked the stairs.

Maelan let out a loud sigh and said, “I won’t stop fighting for her.”

"I won’t either. Where does that leave us, Maelan?” Kyron stood just a few steps away.

“Do you love her?” Maelan asked him with sincerity.

“With my whole being.” Kyron replied without hesitation.

Kyron sat by Maelan’s side as Maelan rubbed his jaw in thought. “The decision is hers. If it means I can also love her, I’m okay with her loving you.”

Before replying, Kyron remained seated with his elbows on his knees, lost in thought. “If she loves me, and you love her, and I love her, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. I'm not okay with this marriage but I'll deal with it.“

Maelan nodded, "I'm not forcing her to do anything. If she wanted to end it now, I would walk away from the kingdom tonight."

Kyron let a sharp, frustrated exhale. It was maddening. Kyron wanted a rival he could despise, someone arrogant or cruel. Instead he was stuck with this. "Must you be so disgustingly kind hearted?" he muttered. "How am I supposed to properly hate you when you're so gods damned noble?"

Maelan laughed a full belly laugh and nudged Kyron with his elbow, “I could say the same about you."

9

Till death do us part

Before she’d taken ten steps, a soft but firm hand slid around her arm, linking them with surprising familiarity. “There you are, my queen,” a voice chimed, smooth and rich with excitement. Sorcha turned in surprise, finding herself face to face with a strikingly beautiful woman. Korat. She was shorter than Sorcha but carried herself with the air of someone who owned any room she entered. Her silver-tipped, blue-gray hair shimmered in the light, her large jade-colored eyes twinkling with mischief. Her skin held a warm, golden hue, a stark contrast to the wintery colors of the Cait Sidhe court, and her energy was both playful and astute, as if she were always two steps ahead of everyone else.

Korat squeezed Sorcha’s arm, her smile radiant. “You have much to decide, and I have much to do. So, come with me.” Callan smiled and turned away. Sorcha had barely time to protest before she was gently but insistently led through the castle’s winding corridors, past rooms buzzing with hurried activity, and into a grand chamber unlike any she’d ever seen. It was filled with gowns, not just gowns but masterpieces. Fabrics of every imaginable shade draped from golden racks, spilling onto velvet-covered tables. Blues as brilliant as the ocean, hues of amethyst and ruby reds that gleamed like polished gemstones, and golds so rich they looked spun from sunlight itself. Sheer fabrics glistened with dustings of silver and gold, while others were covered in impossibly delicate embroidery woven with starbursts and constellations, stitched into lace so fine it could have been crafted by magic.

Korat turned to Sorcha with a knowing smile. “Maelan requested these gowns be brought out for you,” she explained.

Sorcha blinked in surprise. “He did?”

Korat hummed, her fingers gliding over one of the dresses. “He has excellent taste. He mentioned your fondness for the stars.”

She lifted a piece of sheer fabric, holding it so the candlelight illuminated the fine golden and silver dust woven within. “This one,” she murmured, “is as light as air.” Next, she reached for a heavier fabric, adorned with millions of tiny, glistening pearls. “Pure magic,” she mused, her fingers tracing the exquisite material.

Sorcha was captivated by the beauty surrounding her, her eyes darting all over the room. Korat noticed she clearly overwhelmed by the creasing lines in forehead and the way her hands fidgeted with fabric in her hands.

She grinned, observing Sorcha’s reaction. “I understand. You look as though you’re about to dart away like a startled cat.”

Sorcha let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

Korat’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry, I won’t sew you into the dress permanently.” She moved closer, tilting her head to assess Sorcha. “The real question is… do you wish to shine like the stars, or do you wish to be the stars?”

Sorcha gazed at the gowns, at the dazzling choices laid out before her, and for the first time since this entire whirlwind began, a quiet sense of excitement bloomed within her.

Korat clapped her hands once. “I have it.”

Sorcha, still gazing at the sea of shimmering fabrics, startled and blinked. “What?”

The seamstress’s green eyes sparkled. “Your dress.”

She turned and glided toward a mannequin draped in a piece of deep, impossibly rich blue fabric. “This,” she said, lifting it carefully, “is for you.”

Sorcha stepped forward, mesmerized. It was like gazing into the midnight sky, a canvas of endless blue, dusted with the faintest shimmer of silver, like moonlight scattered across the heavens. Korat moved to the bodice, smoothing the fabric.

“The top will be fitted perfectly, sculpted to every curve.” Her fingers traced the center, where the neckline plunged almost scandalously low, nearly to the navel. “This,” she added with a mischievous grin, “is where the real magic happens.”

She lifted another piece of sheer gossamer, the thin overlay, woven with countless tiny, diamond-like embellishments. The pieces caught the light, scattering tiny rainbows across the room. “This will form the sleeves,” Korat explained, “and the middle of the neckline will be a Veil of starlight, delicate yet bold.”