The girls are already seated, their voices lower than usual, eyes flicking to me and then—almost instinctively—to the king’s empty chair. Cassy lifts a brow in question. Mariel watches me over the rim of her teacup, curiosity gleaming like gemstones. Vivian hums softly to herself, as if she already knows how this day will unfold.
I take my seat, forcing myself to breathe.
That’s when Cassian enters.
He moves through the room with his usual easy confidence, dark eyes scanning the table before settling on me. For a moment, his expression is unreadable—then he inclines his head, ever so slightly.
“Fire,” he says calmly. “You’re to return to your chambers and dress.”
The table goes very still.
I had forgotten today was my day with Keiren.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. I nod once and rise, ignoring the chorus of looks that follow me as I leave the room.
When I step into my chamber, I stop short.
Laid neatly across the foot of my bed is a set of riding leathers.
Not a gown, not silk or lace, but rich chocolate-brown leather, fitted and worn soft with use. Sturdy boots sit beside them, their laces neatly coiled.
Practical.
Purposeful.
Intentional.
Resting on top is a folded note. I pick it up, fingers suddenly unsteady.
I thought these would suit you better. Meet me in the courtyard.
—K.
Something tightens in my chest.
I reach out, brushing my fingers over the leather, then dress quickly, grateful for the fresh trousers, given the state of my old ones. When I finish, a knock sounds at the door.
Cassian stands in the threshold, his gaze sweeping over me.
“It suits you,” he says quietly. “The king asked me to escort you to the courtyard once you’re ready.”
Something warm and unsettled coils in my stomach.
“I’m ready,” I say, slinging my satchel over my shoulder—my Pegasus dagger secure inside, along with the most recent book the library offered.
Cassian’s eyes linger on me—assessing, approving, protective.
“You look ready,” he says at last, gesturing for me to follow.
By the time we reach the courtyard, the sun has crested the eastern wall, casting long shadows over stone.
And there he is.
The king.
Keiren.
He stands beside two horses. I recognize the black stallion instantly—his coat gleaming like obsidian, nostrils flaring as he shakes his mane, pawing at the ground like a storm caughtmid-charge. Beside him, a tall silver-gray tosses his head and whinnies, sleek and powerful.
