As breathtaking as the sight had been, the tension within our Flight grew with the countdown to the Royal Trials rapidly trickling away. With our horses and carriages secured and a dozen Aviary members from across the kingdom joining our Flight as guards and attendants, we adopted our new identities. For me, however, it was a return to my true one. With everything in place, we pressed onward.
But none of the sights I’d seen so far could have prepared me for Vilea.
The songs I’d heard, the books I’d read, the paintings I’d pored over—all paled compared to the view as we crested the last hill.
Built into the side of the smaller mountains within the Rithean Range, the Palace of Eretria was a wonder of smooth marble, standing tall and proud.
A polished jewel within a natural crown.
White columns and towers shimmered in the fading light of the sun as it peeked through the cloud cover, while every golden-trimmed window glittered with glimpses of lingering warmth.
Tall oak trees climbed up the slope, leaves of red and gold drifting in the wind, making the mountainside look like it had been set aflame. A winding pathway cut through the towering trees like the twisting body of a serpent, toward the sprawling city at the base of the mountain. Too many stairs to count had been carved in marble, providing a singular pathway from a gatehouse in the city to the palace that presided over it all.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the only means to reach the court.
I had watched in awe as carriages suspended on cables moved between the palace and the city we traveled through, making slow journeys through the air. They were a wonder I had heard about many times before, one of the many reasons Kal and I had dreamed of visiting Vilea.
Sky-carriages.
A clever invention that allowed the high society of the Royal Court to travel from the palace to the city with ease.
After navigating the bustling fanfare of the city, Nyssa, Myna, and I now ride together in one of the carriages. Earlier, we made our way through the lively streets and presented our documents to the guards stationed at the central platform. The order members who had joined us in Corinth remained in the city, sequestered away in case we have need of them, while the rest of Alpha Flight travels in another sky-carriage ahead of us. The seats inside are luxurious, lined with soft crimson velvet and carrying the soothing scent of lavender and cedarwood. The delicate stained-glass windows cast a colorful mosaic of light across my lap as the afternoon sun streams through.
I can’t tell if the persistent, unfamiliar rocking is to blame for the queasiness twisting in my stomach or if it’s the anticipation of our imminent arrival at the palace. Perhaps it’s the weight of the gown and regalia I wear—the gilded laurel crown perched on my head feels foreign, as though it doesn’t belong. Either way, the feeling has crept into every limb, holding me captive in a state of unease.
I turn to take in my companions. Nyssa is fast asleep beside me, her face pressed against the window, little puffs of fog clouding the glass with each breath from her parted lips. She passed out not long after we set off, and I envy her for it. The closer we get to the palace, the more restless I become, and the carriage ride passes torturously.
I haven’t slept properly since before the Naming, and I’m all too aware of the somniseed stashed in my new luggage trunk. Despite having two full vials from Skiepo, I’ve been trying to stop taking the little seeds. It’s proving to be more of a challenge than I’d thought, and the idea of a dreamless sleep is all too tempting.
Across from me, Myna stretches across another velvet bench, reading a book like each word is a morsel of food and she’s been starving for weeks on end. As though she can sense my scrutiny, Myna glances up and returns it in kind.
“It won’t be easy,” she says, her voice steady but softer than usual.
“The trials?” I scoff, brushing it off. “I doubt the search for a prince’s bride will be harder than what the Aviary puts us through.”
“Maybe not.” Her gaze lingers on me, sharp and appraising. “But you won’t know exactly what to expect until the trials start. If they areeasy, thenpretendingthey’re difficult will be the challenge. You’ll have to struggle through them—or at least make it look like you are.”
I hum noncommittally under my breath, my eyes trailing back toward Nyssa’s dozing form as I desperately try to ignore the chill that skitters down my spine. It’s sound advice, particularly coming from someone such as her. But Myna doesn’t understand all the stakes—wasn’t present for the Eagle’s threats.
I need to find some kind of balance to my approach in these trials. One that sets me apart but doesn’t give rise to suspicion. I’m meant to be a princess, after all, not a discarded daughter raised within the Aviary.
I turn back, narrowing my gaze on Myna when I find her attention has returned to the book cradled in her hands. She has a habit of this, I’ve noticed. Of delivering pointed remarks and then smoothly returning to her task, as if she hadn’t just left my thoughts reeling.
The carriage jolts to a stop, and Nyssa sits bolt upright beside me, confusion lining her face and red imprints on her cheek. I glance out the window, but the stained glass distorts the view, leaving only blurred shapes of movement beyond the panes. My pulse quickens despite myself.
My hands move almost instinctively to smooth my hair, nerves fluttering as I feel the soft strands that now betray who I am. Without the earring, there’s nothing to mask it, nothing to hold back the truth of my bloodline. The thought twists my stomach into knots of apprehension, and for a moment, I curse the silken texture that feels so foreign beneath my fingertips.
“It suits you,” Myna says, her tone unusually soft as she closes her book and tucks it into her bag.
I force my hands to still and glance at her, startled. “Thank you,” I murmur, but my voice lacks conviction.
By the time the carriage door swings open, my mask is in place, carefully arranged and unyielding. After a decade, I’m a princess once more—at least on the outside.
A hand appears, extended toward me.
I glance up, startled, and find Raven’s eyes locked on mine—a golden tether that roots me in place. After our first night onTheNightingale,we seem to have forged an unspoken accord. The tension still hangs in the air, almost tangible, but the sharper edges of our exchanges have dulled. For now, we’ve agreed that our purpose outweighs our past, however tenuous that agreement might be.
His expression gives nothing away now, yet his silence feels heavier than words. Hesitation freezes me, my hand hovering between us. My skin prickles, as if his attention alone burns right through my mask. With a flicker of frustration, I give in, letting my fingers brush against his.
