Marb flutters ahead of us. “Right, lovelies, before we start your grand tour, His Majesty insists that you meet your mentors.”
“Mentors?” Vivian echoes. “We’re getting tutors now?”
“Guides,” Marb corrects. “Each of you will be paired with one of the Bound Four, the highest-ranking and most trusted members of his court—your keepers, teachers, and occasional caretakers. They’ll see to it that you don’t die, disgrace yourselves, or destroy anything vital.”
Vivian smirks. “No promises.”
Marb rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers. The doors at the end of the corridor swing open with theatrical precision, and four figures step through.
The first to enter moves like sunlight that refuses to be dimmed. To my shock, I recognize Cassian Vale, all glittering grin and dangerous ease. His crimson cloak fans out behind him like a living flame, and his eyes glitter golden.
“Darlings,” he drawls, sweeping into a bow so low that it borders on mockery. “Welcome to Noctyras, where the wine is strong, the magic unpredictable, and the company divine.”
Vivian actually smiles. Seraphina looks like she’s swallowed a lemon.
“Try not to encourage him,” says the woman at his side.
Lyra Vale—his twin, unmistakable in bone and bearing. She shares his pale hair and fine features, her fair skin dusted with freckles, but where he moves with heat and impulse, she is all composure. Every motion is deliberate, measured, as though the room bends subtly to her will. “He collects adoration like coin and spends it even faster.”
Cassian presses a hand to his chest. “Sister, youwoundme!”
“You’ll recover quickly,” she murmurs. “You always do.”
The next figure glides forward, her presence both grounding and commanding. “That’s quite enough, Cassian.” It’s Mayverius—Mae. The air seems to bend politely around her, carrying the soft scent of herbs with it. “I believe introductions are in order.”
Marb brightens. “Girls, you’ve met Miss Mae, high attendant of Eldrien. She’ll continue mentoring our Eastern bride—Mariel, that’s you, dear.”
Mae inclines her head toward Mariel. “I look forward to seeing what the forest taught you.” Then she turns to the tall man who’s been standing silently behind her.
Arther Vane.His presence is solid stone compared to Cassian’s gilded chaos. Broad-shouldered, sun-scarred, and dark-haired, his every movement is prudent.
He nods once. “Korran Vale brides, Cassy and Vivian, you’re with me.” Cassy starts at being addressed, but Arther’s voice softens a fraction. “You’ll do fine. Just pay close attention.”
I watch him carefully, noting the hard lines of his jaw, the callouses across his knuckles, the quiet deference when Mae laysa hand on his arm. For all his iron edges, he bends toward her like a tree toward sunlight.
Marb clears her throat dramatically. “Lyra will oversee our noble sisters from Grathmoor, Seraphina and Elena.”
Cassian feigns a swoon. “Ice and ambition. Myfavoritecombination.”
Seraphina arches one perfect brow. “Flattery doesn’t thaw glaciers.”
Cassian grins wider. “Then I suppose my dear sister will enjoy the challenge.”
Marb turns, beaming. “And as for Solmere’s representative…” She pauses, searching for something to call me. “Our Southern flame! You’ll be with Cassian here.”
Cassian’s attention snaps to me like a hawk spotting prey, his sharp golden eyes piercing right through me. “Ah, the sun herself. No wonder the room feels warmer.”
“Perhaps you’re standing too close to your own reflection,” I reply with sickening sweetness.
Lyra’s lips twitch, the ghost of amusement. “Looks like you’ve got a live one, Cass. You’ll regret teasing her, I should think.”
He gives a theatrical sigh. “Perhaps. But isn’t that half the fun?”
Mae steps between them before the banter can escalate. “Enough. They’ve had enough shocks for one lifetime already. Save your theatrics for the ballroom, Cassian.”
Cassian bows again, a mock salute. “As the lady commands.”
Arther’s laughter is brief but genuine. “In six centuries, you’d think he’d have learned.”
