Elva defined beauty without even trying. Her hair, the color of sunrise born in thread, tumbled delicately down her back. And her eyes, sea green and impossibly bright, betrayed the truth of her mother’s bloodline.
Aquantilia.The royals of brilliance. The chosen of Luamis.
“You do,” I said. “Loudly. With sighing. It’s all very theatrical.”
She twirled again, ignoring every word. “Someone has to balance out all your brooding.”
Despite the five years between us, Elva stood nearly eye to eye with me. Though in every other way, we were opposites.
Built from different gods.
Where her freckles shimmered across her cheeks, her arms, even the tops of her feet, mine were too dark—beauty marks that looked less like blessings and more like stains.
I arched my brow. “Brooding?”
“Yes,” she said. “Brooding, sulking, glowering. You’re very good at it, by the way. Terrifying half the court before breakfast.”
I grinned, flashing teeth.
Grumbling, she tossed her head back in mock despair. “Gods, save me. One day you’ll frighten off any suitors I have left.”
The dagger flipped in the air, my fingers catching the blade's tip. “Good. You don’t need them. There’s more to living than pretty, rich pigs drooling over your crown.”
Her smile faltered, just slightly, her eyes dimming. “They all expect the same thing—strength, power, magic that will make our kingdom shine. And mine…” She trailed off, lips pressing tight. “Mine barely flickers. I’ll be lucky if any find me worthy.”
My elbows hit my knees as my body leaned to her. “You are the treasure, Elva. And I’ll make them see that you don’t need flickering light to blind them.”
When Elva awakened at eighteen, like me, she woke marked. But unlike me, hers was no curse, only honor.
Her heir mark, ivory and delicate, spiraled down each of her slender fingers on her left hand, the thin lines converging at the back of her hand.
From the center, they rolled and curved into a perfect circle, flames shooting outward like rays of a sun caught at its peak.
A crown of radiance. A sigil of destiny.
It was the very essence of Elva herself; beauty, grace, the relentless will to be the glow Luamis so desperately craved.
A symbol meant to guide. To blaze.
Yet it had been stolen from her before she ever had the chance to shine.
It had been whispered behind doors once that her parents were joined for bloodline, not affection. Leora with her powerful lineage, Sebastian with his old magic. Luamis always refused to be the lesser of kingdoms.
So, marriage became a convenience, not a choice. It never stopped them from loving Elva, though. To Leora and Sebastian, she was all they’d ever need.
Elva hummed as she swayed across her chamber, sunlight threading itself through every movement. Her fingers plucked pearl earrings from the vanity, fastening them delicately in place. Mauves and marigold gowns swoonedagainst her hands as she brushed past the armoire before drifting toward the open glass doors of a balcony.
Beams spilled through, painting the stone terrace in melted gold, gilding the garden I’d slipped through earlier.
Elva lifted my gift to her face, inhaling deep. “I do love my flowers, thank you.” Her shoulders rose, then fell on a quiet exhale. “I’m shocked there were some left looking so alive. It’s rather chilly this morning.”
She shivered, searching for a blanket, but came up empty. The fireplace crackled and she moved there instead, where porcelain vases lined up neatly along its mantle. Rising on her toes, she tucked the flowers into one with care.
“Never underestimate.” My eyes caught on the shadows following her across the walls. “Even the softest things have their way of surprising us with their edge.”
Her skin pebbled when another breeze slipped through, her attention lingering on the chess set in the corner.
I groaned under my breath. I was atrocious at chess. Elva, on the other hand, was exceptional at it, her mind sharper than she ever gave herself credit for. It soothed her, steadied her, and I could feel the unease beneath her skin today.
