Maris didn’t move to allow her enterance to the chamber. “How long was I out?”
“Five hours from the effects of the dream spell on your human blood. It was more potent, you were fevered for half of it. Talking in your sleep.”
Maris stiffened. “What did I say?”
Serenya tilted her head. “Nothing I understood. Mostly one name —Kael.”
The sound of his name in someone else’s mouth made her flinch. Maris eyes narrowed, she turned retreating back to the bed, Serenya followed her inside.
“And what doeshethink of that?”
“If you mean King Alarik, I don’t know. He hasn’t spoken of it to me.” Serenya paused, then added, “He doesn’t speak of much. Not when he’s angry.”
“So he’s angry,” Maris muttered, crossing her arms.
“He’s… conflicted.” Serenya smiled faintly. “Which is worse.”
That tugged something raw in her chest, but Maris ignored it. “Why are you here, then? To see if I’ve snapped? Sprouted horns? Burst into divine flame?”
Serenya chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re ready to do worse than that, I’m sure.”
Maris blinked.
“I’m here because I was assigned to your care,” Serenya continued. “But also because I requested it. Not many women set fire to prophecy and politics, let alone make two Kings lose sleep. I had to meet the reckoning for myself.”
Maris groaned. “Gods.” Suddenly more aware of the impact of the past few months. She had only been a poor seamstress. Now she was to revere.
Serenya stepped forward, offering a bundle of soft deep navy clothing, stitched with gold at the hems, simple but elegant.
“Dress,” she said gently. “If you feel up for it, I’ll show you the gardens. The sea cliffs. The inner walls of Nerium. The light of day is slipping over the horizon so the castle will soon stir to life.”
Maris raised a brow. "To see one castle is to see them all."
Serenya eyes lit brightly, a flicker of pride touching her face. “The capital fortress and palace of Calanthe was built into the cliffs like a blade. It was a ship once, or so the oldest myths say. A god’s ship sharing the same name, ran aground after the war between realms.”
Maris snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No,” Serenya replied, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “But the view is still breathtaking, i'd love to show you around.”
Minutes later, Maris was dressed and following Serenya through high, vaulted halls carved from dark blue stone shot through with glimmering veins of silver and gold ore. Sunlight streamed through crystal glass mosaics, casting long patterns of waves and beasts onto the marble beneath their feet.
The air smelled different here. Less like blood and old iron. More like salt and storms.
They passed balconies that overlooked sheer cliffs —the ocean far below —its surface heaving like a beast in sleep. Gardens clung to the rock in terraces, bursting with strange sea-colored blooms, orchids and vines that shimmered faintly with residual magic. Seabirds cried from distant towers.
“It’s beautiful,” Maris admitted grudgingly, her arms wrapped around herself. Nothing like Calyrix.
“It is, but also dangerous,” Serenya corrected. “Alot like you I'd wager.”
That earned a flicker of a smile.
They walked in silence for a while. The wind kissed her face, and for the first time since waking in this strange place, Maris’s thoughts dulled from their fever pitch.
But not for long.
Because he was here. Somewhere in this castle. The man from her dreams. The one who’d watched her sleep and whispered riddles into her bones. The sworn enemy of her betrothed.
The sea wind stung her cheeks, brisk and briny, curling through the pale archways like it had something to prove. Maris clutched the blue velvet cloak tighter around her borrowed dress, the fabric soft but unfamiliar.
