We pause behind a tall column near the side of thestairwell. Outside, the night beckons us through the open arch. The garden just beyond.
"Ready?" she asks, her violet eyes dancing with challenge.
I grin. "Always."
We bolt, like a blur of pale silk and dark leather under the moon. Laughter spills from us as we slip through the garden hedge, over the low marble wall, and into the shadows of the forest.
Serenya grabs my hand and pulls me forward, breathless with joy. "Come on! It's not far!"
"The last time you said that, we ended up halfway to the border."
But I follow. I will always follow her. Her fingers lace through mine.
When the trees thin and the forest opens to the wide field, I see why she brought me. The meadow stretches out before us, cloaked in wild flowers that shimmer under the moonlight, petals of pale violet, soft gold, and white so pure it glows.
She spins in the middle of the field, arms lifted to the stars, her white hair loose and catching in the wind. Moonlight kisses her cheeks, and the flowers seem to bend to her touch.
I stand at the edge of the field, heart clenching as I watch her.
She is radiant. Not some distant, untouchable beauty. But real and fierce and impossibly free. A light to be held but never caged.
"You're staring," she says, turning toward me, a playfulsmile on her face.
"Can you blame me?" I murmur, stepping into the field.
She doesn't answer, just stares at me for a long, quiet moment, the laughter in her eyes softening to something else. Something deeper.
As if the moment had grown too heavy, she turns and walks through the flowers.
I follow, slowly this time. Not because I can't keep up, but because I want to watch her. I want to etch her into every part of me. Memorize her in the field of stars and blossoms.
Chapter 4
?---- Serenya ? ----?
The great hall shimmers beneath the moonlight as I pause just outside the arched doorway, my hand resting against the cool stone. My black gown trails behind me as the delicate circlet on my brow catches the lantern light. My mother insisted on the crown, but it feels too heavy tonight.
Inside, voices of the men who might soon become my fate rise and fall.
My stomach knots. I’m not ready. Not for this. Not to give away my life, my heart, my future to someone who isn’t him.
The guard beside me shifts, then nods. “They await you, Your Highness.”
I draw a long breath, force the trembling of my hands into stillness, and step inside.
The six men rise immediately, chairs scraping softly against polished stone. My mother sits at the dais, giving me a subtle nod. The high lords and advisors sit at their own table just below her in judgmental silence. I force my steps to stay steadyas I move to the head of the long table.
I let my gaze sweep over the six men.
The first is the tallest, with light-brown hair brushing his shoulders, a soldier’s build, eyes stern, and skin tan in a way that shows how much time he spends outside. He looks as though he’d be more comfortable with a sword in his hand than a goblet. He stoically inclines his head.
The second is a curly, brown-haired man with a boyish grin already plastered on his face. His eyes sparkle with mischief. He looks like he’s barely taking this seriously, and yet there’s a charm there I can’t entirely dismiss.
The third is composed. He has dark skin, and his long black locks are pulled halfway back, the rest falling in smooth dark ropes over his shoulders. His expression is unreadable, but his green eyes are sharp. He has the kind of calm that unnerves me. If I had to guess, I would say he is someone who commands men—a captain, maybe.
The fourth is a freckled man with quiet, piercing eyes. He says nothing, but his attention never wavers, studying, measuring. His silence is heavier than words.
The fifth is a man with blond hair and kind eyes. Gentle. The sort who probably picks up fallen bird nests in the woods and rescues them. His warmth softens his sharp cheekbones, making him seem safer than the others.
