“What about your dad?”
“He’ll be there too.”
“But they don’t announce him?” I asked. Caelen winced again.
“You’ll see,”
I exchanged a glance with Slade, who stayed close by my side—watchful, solid, quiet.
Behind us, Phoenix and Leo stepped into formation with Maddie, but… something felt off.
They were unusually quiet. Tense.Grumpy,even.
For a brief second, I wondered if I’d done something.
If maybe… they were mad atme.
We were led inside the castle grounds in our small procession.
The hall was as grand as I expected—vaulted ceilings, warm sea-stone columns, and glass mosaics that shimmered like fish scales in the shifting light. But even all that beauty felt… tense. Too quiet.
At the far end stood a woman draped in layers of green and pearl. She looked every inch a queen—even though she wasn't one. Her expression was carved from marble: elegant, emotionless, and unimpressed. That had to be Lady Mireille—Caelen’s mother.
Seated beside her, half in shadow, was a man with long silver-threaded hair and a restless energy that vibrated beneath his skin. His robes were wrinkled, his fingers drumming the edge of the armrest like he was tapping out a language only he understood. This, then, was Lord Dante.
Caelen straightened beside me, tension rippling through his posture. Slade stayed close, eyes scanning everything—especially the guards lining the walls.
“Mother. Father,” Caelen said formally. “May I present Slade Archenwald, commander of the Veilguard, and Princess Elira Virell.”
Mireille’s eyes moved over me like I was an acquisition to be appraised.
“Princess Elira,” she said at last, voice smooth as polished stone. “At last. We’ve heard… quite a lot about you.”
I nodded once, careful. “I imagine you have, Your Grace. Thank you for welcoming us to your home.”
Dante leaned forward, smiling faintly. “You look like your father, you know.” His voice was gentle but frayed—like a whisper pulled through static.
Mireille didn’t look at him. Didn’t even flinch.
“You must be tired from your journey,” she said, still watching me. “We’ve arranged rooms for you and your guards. You’ll be staying in the southern wing, of course.”
Slade stepped forward, every inch the commander. “Thank you, Lady Mireille. We’ll ensure our men remain orderly.”
Her gaze flicked to him, assessing. “See that you do.”
Dante smiled again, blinking slowly. “Do you dream in colour, Princess?” he asked suddenly.
I blinked. “Sometimes,” I said honestly.
Mireille sighed quietly. “Please ignore him. He speaks nonsense.”
But I didn’t think it was nonsense. And from the way Slade's eyes narrowed slightly, neither did he.
The Duke leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
He gestured me closer.
Mireille rolled her eyes.
