Chapter 12
12
CAT
I slept most of the early afternoon away. Luckily, Jacob told the servants and Maeve not to wake me so I could rest for tonight’s banquet. When I awoke, I found a bowl of steaming porridge at my bedside, which I devoured even though it tasted like flavorless oatmeal. This place seriously lacked seasoning. I would even settle for black pepper at this point. Anything.
There was a knock on my door as I ate my last spoonful. “My lady?” Maeve called out.
“Come in!”
The door opened and Maeve entered with a slight bow. “You’ll need to start getting ready soon, my lady. I’ve prepared a bath for you—”
“I need you to do me a favor,” I cut her off. “I need you to get a message to Damien… or at least to his uncle, the Royal Prince.”
Maeve’s eyes widened. “My lady!” she gasped. “It’s next to impossible to get on Obsidian Reach. There are hundreds of guards watching over the third prince, and a raven will be shot down if a guard sees it flying over the island.”
“We need to find a way.” I nibbled my lower lip. “He needs to know I’ll be at the palace tonight.”
“Then a message to the Royal Prince is our better option, my lady.”
I nodded. “Here.” I handed the already written letter. “Go to the Royal Prince’s mansion in the Northern District and see if he’s there. He might be getting ready for the banquet. Tell him this is urgent, and it needs to be read by Damien as soon as possible. If Royal Prince Bai is not there, have one of his servants send it to the island. They have access.”
Maeve bowed. “Yes, my lady, I’ll go right now,” She quickly left the room, her footsteps light and hurried.
Alone again, I stood and stretched, feeling the stiffness of a long sleep fade from my muscles. As much as I loathed the forced decorum of my current life, tonight's banquet was not just another social event—it was a battlefield. One where I had to play a role that was both shield and sword, guarding the secrets of my true identity and fighting against the currents that vigorously sought to pull me under.
I made my way to the bath that Maeve had prepared. The room was filled with the calming scent of lavender and mint, a soft mist hovering in the air from the steaming water. The tub itself was a simple ceramic affair, large enough to stretch out in, but devoid of the luxurious embellishments one might expect in a noble house. It was a painful reminder of how far the Ryder finances had fallen.
As I sank into the warm embrace of perfumed bathwater, my thoughts drifted to Damien. The complexity of our relationship—or whatever it was—was something I still hadn't managed to unravel. On one hand, we shared an undeniable connection, a pull that went beyond mere physical attraction. On the other, there were lies, manipulations, and the undeniable fact that we were from two vastly different worlds.
How did I go from wanting to kill him to… hell, I didn’t even want to finish that sentence.
I glanced down at my tatted arm and inspected the tattoo that had brought on all this chaos: a dragon and phoenix intertwined in flames. When I dreamt it, I thought it was so cool at the time and called my tattoo artist right away. I didn’t want to forget it. That same night, I got it done. Was Damien right? Was I curious about why I dreamed this tattoo? Was I meant to come to Elaria?
I shook my head and dunked my head beneath the water, staying submerged until I ran out of breath. Vaulting back up to the surface, I brushed my hair back and took a deep breath. “No. No way. I can’t feed into the nonsense. I don’t believe in fate,” I murmured and then started to laugh. “Fate and destiny are for suckers, and I, for one, am no sucker.”
Right as I settled back into the soothing warmth of a bath filled with scented oils, my peace was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. “It's open,” I called out, assuming it was Maeve with some additional towels or perhaps an update on the message. Instead, the door swung open to reveal Gianna, her expression masked in a practiced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Gianna.” I tried to hide my surprise as I clutched a washcloth a bit more tightly to my chest beneath the foamy surface. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“I just wanted to see how you were doing, sister ,” she said, emphasizing the last word. She walked closer to the tub, her gaze flitting over the array of bath products lined neatly on the stool beside the tub. Nothing befitting a lady of supposed noble standing, a silent testament to our family's dwindling wealth.
“I'm doing just fine,” I replied, maintaining a calm exterior while internally bracing for the underlying tension that seemed to always thread our conversations.
Her eyes narrowed on my arm. “What’s that?” She pointed to my exposed tattoos and I sunk deeper into the tub to hide them.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” I smiled tightly. “What do you want?”
Gianna narrowed her eyes as if she wanted to press. Instead, she perched on the edge of the tub, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the porcelain. “It’s quite an event tonight, isn’t it? Jacob taking you to the banquet. I must admit, I was a bit surprised he chose you over me this time. You’re usually not qualified to attend, even as the legitimate daughter.”
I ignored the dig. “Jacob thinks it might do me some good to get out.” I opted for a neutral response, avoiding the deeper waters of our rivalry. “You know, after my accident and all.”
“Yes, that tragic accident,” Gianna said softly, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. Probably because that accident was meant for her and not me. “You've changed so much since then, Arya. Or should I say... improved?”
I met her gaze in the mirror, my expression unwavering. “Change can be good, Gianna. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “I worry about you, out at these events, mingling with people who might not understand your... delicate condition. It’s a lot for someone so fragile .”
“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll manage,” I assured her, my tone polite yet distant. “Jacob will be with me, and I’m sure he wouldn’t let anything happen to his little sister.”
Gianna stood, smoothing the front of her dress as she prepared to leave. “Just remember, Arya, not everyone is as forgiving as family. Be careful tonight,” she warned, her voice soft but carrying an edge that hinted at deeper threats.
She was up to something; I just didn’t know what .
“Gianna?” She froze mid-step and peered over her shoulder at me. “You know, I’m not the only one who has changed.”
She furrowed her brows. “Is that so?”
I nodded. “You’re different, too. The once docile, delicate Gianna who would give out porridge to the poor in the Southern District is now… how should I put it… well, she has an icier exterior. Her words are sharp, and she no longer helps those in need anymore.”
Gianna chuckled and turned around to fully face me. It was the first time I’d seen her so… Cruella Deville. It was strange how quickly a person could change, and the reasons that compelled them.
“He’s not worth it, Gianna.” I leaned forward, covering my breasts with the washcloth.
Her frown deepened. “Who?”
“Damien,” I answered. “Don’t change who you are for a man.”
She scoffed. “Didn’t you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Hell, no. Are you crazy? Not in a million years.”
“Lies,” she growled. “You stole him from me! That was your plan all along! You always take what’s mine!”
“Jesus Christ,” I murmured. “You can have him, Gianna. I don’t want Damien, but he won’t leave me alone.” It was only half a truth. Did I truly want her to have him? That was a question I wasn’t sure I had the answer to. “But you’re going to believe what you want to believe, so I won’t waste my breath arguing with you. Just know that this fight between you and me is totally one sided because I’m not fighting you. You’re on your own, homegirl.”
She snorted and speared me with a hateful glare. “That’s what you think, Arya. This isn’t over. I’m no longer the same sweet Gianna, and I’m not going to roll over and take it anymore. You better watch your back.” With those parting words, she spun on her heels and stomped out of the room.
I sighed because I knew damn well that no matter what I said, she wouldn’t change her mind about me. She was a girl on a mission, and that mission was to destroy me, the sister who’d made her life a living hell. I wasn’t sure before, but looking into her eyes now, I could finally confirm it. Damien choosing me over her was the final straw. We were at war.
By the time I emerged from the bath, my skin was wrinkled and my mind was much clearer. I was ready to face whatever the evening held. Maeve returned, breathless and with news that the message had been successfully delivered to Royal Prince Bai's mansion.
“He said he would ensure it reaches Prince Damien immediately, my lady,” Maeve informed me as she helped me dress.
The gown for the evening was a deep emerald green, simple in cut but elegant in its minimalism, complete with long sleeves to cover my tattoos. As Maeve laced up the back with nimble, quick fingers, I watched our reflections in the mirror. The dress made me look every bit the part of a noblewoman, though the tightness around my chest reminded me of the constraints of this role.
“Does it feel alright, my lady?” Maeve asked, noting my slight grimace.
“It's perfect,” I assured her, forcing a smile. “A little snug, but I'll manage.”
Once dressed, I sat at the vanity as Maeve styled my hair into an elaborate updo, weaving strands together with practiced ease. Every pin and tuck were a reminder of the mask I had to wear tonight, each curl a coil in the armor I built around myself.
“Are Jacob and my father waiting?” I asked casually.
Maeve shook her head. “Lord Zachariah is unwell tonight. It will just be you and Young Master Jacob.”
I frowned. Zachariah was fine as of this morning. What happened?
As the final touches were put into place, Maeve stepped back to admire her work. I took a deep breath and steeled my nerves for the night ahead. This banquet was a stage on which I had to perform a part written for someone else, hoping against hope that I could keep the audience entertained and deceived just a little longer.
With a delicate sweep of rose-colored blush and a subtle line of kohl around my eyes, Maeve transformed my face into a visage of composed nobility. She stepped back, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she surveyed her work. “You're ready, my lady.”
“Thanks, Maeve.” I stood and smoothed down the fabric of my dress. I followed her out of my room, the soft rustle of my gown trailing behind me like a whispered secret. Evening was just settling in, painting the sky in shades of twilight as I strode outside.
Jacob was already waiting by the carriage, which was parked in front of the gate. He was smartly dressed in his military uniform, the medals and insignia catching the fading light and making him look particularly distinguished. When he saw me approach, his posture straightened and a look of mild surprise crossed his features.
“You look... different,” he remarked as he offered his arm to escort me to the carriage. There was an edge of formality in his tone, a reminder of the roles we were expected to play tonight.
“Different good or different bad?” I quipped, taking his arm and allowing him to lead me towards the open carriage door.
“Different impressive,” he corrected with a small smile as he helped me into the plush carriage upholstered in deep red velvet, which contrasted sharply with my green gown.
I settled against the soft cushions as Jacob climbed in after me and closed the door with a soft click. I leaned through the open window. “We’ll be back late, Maeve. You don’t have to wait up.”
“Yes, my lady. Have a good time and, uh… be careful,” she murmured the last part.
I winked at her and closed the curtain.
The carriage gently jerked into motion and the journey towards Dragon Valley and the palace awaited. The ride would take us through the quieter parts of the Northern District, past bustling markets and through the serene countryside.
“So, what should I expect from this banquet?” I asked, breaking the silence that had settled between us. “Besides the usual stiff formalities and too many speeches?”
Jacob chuckled, his demeanor relaxing slightly. “Well, the emperor loves to showcase the achievements of the Nightwing battalion, so expect a lot of toasts and possibly a few demonstrations. It's as much a political event as it is a celebration.”
“Sounds thrilling,” I remarked dryly, watching the scenery blur past the small carriage window.
“It can be... if you know where to look and who to listen to,” Jacob replied, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “There's always an undercurrent of intrigue at these events. Alliances are formed, secrets are exchanged. It’s a game, really.”
“And here I am, barely knowing the rules,” I mused aloud.
“You'll learn,” he assured me. “Tonight is a good opportunity to observe and perhaps participate a little. Besides, I'll be there to guide you. As a woman, you don’t have to worry much about these things, Arya.”
I nodded and wanted to roll my eyes so hard, but I wisely refrained. As the carriage rolled on, winding its way across the grandeur of the Northern District, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Tonight, I might just find the key to unraveling more than one kind of mystery.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of Dragon Valley’s grand palace. The impressive structure loomed large against the night sky, its turrets and spires outlined by the soft glow of lanterns that peppered its facade. Unlike the luncheon, we stopped at an entrance that led directly to the grand ballroom. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the palace gardens, mingling with the more robust aromas of roasted meats and spiced wine emanating from within.
Jacob and I stepped out of the carriage and were immediately greeted by a palace steward who bowed deeply and ushered us towards the ballroom. Heavy doors opened to reveal a scene of opulence and meticulous orchestration. The vast space boasted high, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting the historic battles and triumphs of Dragon Valley. Gilded chandeliers hung from above, their crystals flinging prismatic light across the room, illuminating the faces of the assembled guests.
The murmur of dozens of conversations filled the air, a soft cacophony occasionally punctuated by the clear, high notes of a string quartet and a singer positioned near a balcony. The music was elegant, weaving throughout the crowd past silken drapes that framed the room's expansive windows.
The marble checkerboard floor was polished to a high sheen, reflecting the room's grandeur. As we made our way through the crowd, the cloying scent of fresh lilies and roses was pervasive, blending with the less delicate but equally enticing smell of the banquet laid out on silver platters along one side of the room.
I noticed the attendees were a combination of military personnel in uniform, like Jacob, and courtiers in their finest attire. Their clothes rustled and shimmered as they moved, the women's gowns flowing gracefully while the men adjusted cuffs and collars in a show of subtle preening. Their faces were a study in diplomacy and intrigue; smiles were polite yet measured, and eyes were keen, missing nothing.
As we moved deeper into the room, Jacob leaned closer and murmured, “Remember, everyone here plays a part. Watch, listen, and learn who holds the power and who seeks it.”
His words were a reminder of the delicate dance of court life, where every gesture and word held layers of meaning. I nodded, my senses heightened to the undercurrents of the event, ready to observe and absorb the evening's subtle dynamics.
As the orchestra eased into a gentler melody, the rich strings tugging subtly at the heartstrings of everyone in the grand ballroom, Jacob leaned closer, his voice barely above the swell of music. “I see one of my comrades from the border; I must catch up with him for a moment. Will you be alright on your own for a bit?”
“Of course.” I nodded and tried to mirror his casual demeanor despite the fluttering in my stomach. “I'll just take in the sights.”
With a reassuring smile, Jacob briefly clasped my shoulder before making a beeline toward a group of uniformed men and women gathered near a wide marble pillar. Their hearty laughs and clinking glasses filled the air as they welcomed him back.
Left to navigate the sea of glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos alone, I wandered closer to one of the tall, arched windows that framed the palace gardens. The delicate fragrance of blooming night jasmine wafted in, mingling with the heavier scents of perfume and spiced wine that dominated the air. Cool breezes from the gardens cut through the warm, perfumed air of the ballroom. I glanced over at Jacob, now deep in conversation with his comrades, his animated gestures a stark contrast to my stillness. He seemed so at ease in this world of polished smiles and unspoken power struggles, while I still felt like an imposter.
Because I was.
My thoughts were interrupted by the soft hum of nearby voices. Just to my left, tucked behind one of the marble columns, was a small alcove where a cluster of royals—judging by their exquisite attire and the deference shown by passersby—stood in hushed conversation. I shifted slightly and pretended to admire the gardens while angling myself to hear them better. Jacob’s words echoed in my mind: Watch, listen, and learn.
“… the borders are strained,” one man said, his voice low and clipped. His sharp features and hawkish demeanor gave him the air of someone who relished control. “The fae skirmishes are becoming bolder. If we don’t bolster the outposts, we risk a full incursion.”
Fae skirmishes? I thought they were sequestered in Faelight Forest?
Another voice, softer but carrying undeniable authority, responded. “We’ve already sent reinforcements,” the woman said. Her voice was like velvet wrapped around steel. “But the fae don’t act without reason, since most of their people are trapped in Faelight Forest. We need to determine what’s provoking them before we escalate. War with the fae would be catastrophic, especially if they find a way to be freed.”
“Catastrophic for whom?” the man countered, his tone laced with subtle defiance. “The crown can’t afford to look weak. If we don’t respond with force, the other kingdoms will see us as vulnerable.”
“And yet, the fae could be reacting to something we’ve done,” the woman shot back, her calm voice cutting through his posturing. “You think they don’t notice the mining operations encroaching on their territories? The treaties we’ve conveniently forgotten? We can’t burn a bridge we’re still standing on.”
I frowned as I pretended to sip from a wine glass I’d snagged from a passing tray, my ears straining to catch every word.
The fae? Mining operations? This wasn’t the kind of casual court gossip I expected to overhear. It sounded like a brewing crisis, one tied to the kingdom’s very survival.
A third voice joined in, this one colder, with a quiet menace that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Crown Prince Thorne. “Enough!” he growled. And even though he hadn’t raised his voice, the weight of it silenced the others. It was completely different from what I’d known him to be like. “The fae will not dictate how we govern. The outposts will hold. If they falter, we’ll do what’s necessary to secure our borders. And if the fae want war, they’ll regret crossing us.”
There was a pause, though the tension was palpable. Then the woman spoke again, her tone carefully measured. “And what of the rumors, Thorne? The twin flame prophecy… and the fae’s obsession with it? Have you considered that this might be more than a territorial dispute?”
Twin flame. The words hit me like a bolt of lightning and my grip tightened on the stem of my glass. Did they know about me and Damien? When I asked Klaus about it, he told me to run as far away from it as possible.
Thorne scoffed softly, though there was an edge to the sound. “Prophecies are for fools and fairy tales. The twin flame is nothing but an ancient myth, one the fae cling to because they refuse to live in the present. They still hope to revive their people, but it’s false hope.”
“You may not believe in it,” the woman said evenly, “but others do. And belief, whether grounded in truth or not, is enough to ignite a war.”
Before Thorne could respond, a servant approached with a deep bow, murmuring something that drew their conversation to an abrupt halt. I quickly turned away and pretended to admire the intricate embroidery on my dress as the group dispersed, their conversation leaving a thousand unanswered questions swirling in my mind.
Twin flame. Fae skirmishes. Mining operations. The weight of what I’d overheard pressed down on me, heavier than any gown or courtly expectation. Jacob was right—everyone here played a part. The question was, what part was I about to be thrust into?
I was still standing on the other side of the wide column when Thorne found me, his approach smooth as he navigated through the clusters of chatting nobles. The crowd seemed to naturally part for him, a testament to his status and the subtle command he held. “Lady Arya, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!” His voice carried a warm note of surprise.
The sound of his voice made me jump. “It's a welcome change of scenery,” I admitted, my gaze briefly meeting his before drifting over his shoulder to see if he’d been followed by the others. “The palace always has a way of putting things into perspective.”
Thorne chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement. “It does, at that. And how are you finding the festivities? To your tastes, I hope?”
“Overwhelming, but in a good way.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous gesture that didn't go unnoticed by his observant eyes.
“Our gatherings tend to have that effect,” he agreed, his gaze briefly scanning the room before returning to me. “I hope they're proving to be... enlightening?”
“Every moment is a learning experience,” I said, offering a wry smile but not giving myself away. “Though I'm still getting used to all the nuances.”
“If there's anything you need, any questions you have, don't hesitate to ask,” Thorne offered, his tone sincere. “Despite what the court whispers, I'm here to assist, not just oversee.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I murmured with a respectful bow, especially since I was almost a hundred percent positive he knew I’d overheard his conversation.
Thorne leaned forward slightly, invading my personal space and compelling me to lean away. “Does my brother know you’re here?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I whispered. “Although my presence here shouldn’t be much of a surprise, considering my brother is part of the Nightwing battalion.”
Thorne raised a brow in surprise. “Is that so? Oh, right, I remember Lord Zacharia mentioned it at the luncheon. My father rewarded him, did he not?”
I nodded. “He did.”
“I’ll have to meet him tonight. Can you point him out?” Thorne turned and scouted the crowd.
I smiled nervously and nodded in Jacob’s direction. “You can’t miss him. We have the same eyes.”
“Ah, yes.” Thorne smiled when he spotted him across the crowd talking to his friends. “You do look very similar. Those Ryder genes are strong.”
“Yes, they are,” I agreed. “But the Drakonars aren’t far behind.” My eyes followed Prince Julian as he strutted through the crowd like he had already been pronounced emperor.
Thorne chuckled. “Yes, all but Damien, that is.” He pondered silently for a moment. “I wonder why that is?”
I peered over at him, surprised to hear him make a dig about his youngest brother. I mean, it was fairly obvious that Damien wasn’t the spitting image of his siblings. His coloring and demeanor were very different from the other men in his family. But still, I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to stir the pot. It wasn’t like Damien wanted anything to do with his family, anyway. If he was stripped of his Prince title this very instant and made a commoner, Damien would probably celebrate the event at The Gilded Serpent. Being a noble Drakonar wasn’t his dream… Freedom was.
I decided to change the subject. “Is the emperor here tonight?”
Thorne's expression subtly shifted, a hint of tension momentarily lining his features before he composed himself. “Yes, he will make an appearance soon,” he replied, his tone stiff and formal. “It's a significant event for the Nightwing battalion, and he takes pride in these ceremonies.”
As Thorne glanced around, monitoring the interactions in the ballroom with a practiced eye, I followed his gaze, sweeping over the ballroom with its high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting the history of Dragon Valley. Crystal chandeliers hung like stars, projecting a soft glow that reflected off the polished marble floors.
“Be careful of my brother Julian, Lady Arya,” Thorne said as he watched him from afar. “Since the luncheon, you haven’t exactly been his favorite person.”
I snorted. “I figured. Thanks for the heads up.”
He nodded. “I shouldn’t linger in one spot too long. It was nice talking to you. I do hope you’ll be careful. Have a nice time.”
Deciding it was time I started mingling, I lingered around the edges of the ballroom, my eyes taking in everyone and listening to the muffled conversations around me. Everything from politics to personal affairs were being discussed, but nothing of particular importance. And I was glad. I didn’t want to overhear anything I probably shouldn’t. Luckily, no one was paying me any mind.
I was just about to look for Jacob when the orchestra snared my attention. A lute began to play, its folksy melody partnered with a sultry women’s voice that filtered across the ballroom.
“In the shadow of the mountain, where the wild winds wail,
They whisper of a rider, long lost beyond the veil.
On wings of darkest midnight, with fire in her stride,
The dragon and his chosen soar to claim the skies.
“Oh, she blazes through the heavens, a flame in the dark,
The ancient king beside her, with a fire-bound heart.
Twin flames reunited, their destinies aligned,
The dragon and his rider, one heart, one mind.”
I froze mid-step, and I noticed everyone else did, as well. The murmurs in the ballroom started to escalate and I could only imagine what everyone was gossiping about. I needed to find Jacob. This couldn’t be good, especially if the emperor or his sons heard the song.
“The black-scaled king of legends, with eyes like burning stars,
Had vanished into myth, leaving kingdoms torn and scarred.
But now he blazes northward, with a woman on his back,
A warrior shrouded in mystery, a queen leading the attack.
“Oh, she blazes through the heavens, a flame in the dark,
The ancient king beside her, with a fire-bound heart.
Twin flames reunited, their destinies aligned,
The dragon and his rider, one heart, one mind.
“They say the dragon chose her, the only one who could,
For she bore the fire within her, the bond of flesh and blood.
The ancient kings are trembling, their false crowns turned to dust,
For the one true king has risen, with a rider they can trust.”
I pushed through the crowd with clammy hands as the song continued. The gasps at the one true king line were so loud, they echoed throughout the room. It was a rather ballsy move to sing this song here tonight. Did someone put the singer up to it? I became lightheaded.
“Oh, she blazes through the heavens, a flame in the dark,
The ancient king beside her, with a fire-bound heart.
Twin flames reunited, their destinies aligned,
The dragon and his rider, one heart, one mind.
“Now the skies are alight with their roaring refrain,
And the people lift their faces to the fiery rain.
The twin flames burn eternal, their bond none can sever,
The dragon and his rider, bound in legend forever.
“Oh, she blazes through the heavens, a flame in the dark,
The ancient king beside her, with a fire-bound heart.
Twin flames reunited, their destinies aligned,
The dragon and his rider, one heart, one mind.
“So sing of the legend, let her tale be known,
Of the queen who found the king and claimed the skies as her throne.
With fire and with fury, they blaze across the night,
The dragon and his rider, legends burning bright.”
“Jacob!” I caught up to him and grabbed his arm with wide eyes.
His eyes mirrored mine as he faced the direction of the singer and musicians who had captivated the guests of the banquet. “Arya,” he whispered, “thank the immortals you’re here. Stay by my side.” He tightly gripped my hand. “I have a feeling things are going to take a turn for the worse.”
When the song ended, you could have heard a pin drop in the otherwise silent ballroom. My nerves frayed, sweat beaded on my forehead and pooled in my armpits, which wasn’t helped by the fact my dress had long sleeves to hide my tattoos, or that this damn corset was so freakin’ tight it was constricting my breathing.
“Jacob—”
Before I could say Let’s get the fuck out of here , the crowd parted like the Red fuckin’ Sea.
“The emperor has arrived!” a steward announced. And just like magic, Emperor Valenor made his entrance.
Decked out in his finest robes and blinged out in a mountain of jewels, the man walked in with his head held high, a gold crown atop his head, and icy blue eyes directed solely on the singer.
Emperor Valenor walked straight toward her, ignoring everyone else. His children trailed along behind him as he strode toward the front of the ballroom.
“Young lady, what is your name?” he asked, his deep voice booming throughout the ballroom.
The singer, who couldn’t have been older than twenty, gulped loudly. Her hazel eyes widened as she dropped to her knees before the emperor. “Brianna, Your Majesty.”
He smirked. “Is that so? Tell me, Brianna, what is the name of the song you just sang?”
Hesitantly, she peered up at the emperor and answered, “ Song of the Dragon Rider , Your Majesty.”
The emperor chuckled softly at first, but it quickly grew into boisterous laughter. “ Song of the Dragon Rider , you say? And why have I not heard of this folk song before?”
“I-It’s n-new, Y-Your M-Majesty,” she answered.
“It’s new? The only way someone could come up with such a song is if they had actually seen a Dragon Rider. Now tell me, has anyone seen a Dragon Rider?” he shouted, raising his voice and swiveling his head toward the terrified crowd.
No one said a word as they all lowered their heads and tried not to attract the emperor’s attention. And of course, I did the same, because I had a funny feeling that song was about me and Damien. Someone must have seen us last night when we burned down the underground fighting ring and got to work writing a new song.
Jacob tightened his grip on my hand, his knuckles whitening as the emperor’s chilling laughter echoed through the ballroom. The air suddenly felt colder, denser, as if the very atmosphere had condensed with tension.
“No, Your Majesty,” Brianna replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s merely a creation of folklore, inspired by the legends of old.”
The emperor’s gaze lingered on her, unblinking and piercing. Then he slowly turned, his eyes sweeping across the room, over the heads of his subjects who dared not meet his impenetrable gaze. His presence was a palpable force, and you could feel the collective breath of the room hold.
“Legends of old, you say?” Emperor Valenor mused aloud, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Or perhaps a careless whisper about current events? Secrets are not so easily kept in Dragon Valley, not even by supposed Dragon Riders.”
The room remained deathly silent, everyone too terrified to move or speak, their eyes cast downward. I felt Jacob’s other hand clasp my arm, a silent signal of his growing concern.
“Arya, stay alert,” he urgently whispered into my ear. “Things might escalate quickly.”
The silence deepened and the atmosphere turned ominous as Emperor Valenor continued to scrutinize Brianna. His presence commanded absolute attention, and the unease among the attendees was profound. The room was stifling, as if the air itself awaited his next words.
“Folklore, you claim? A harmless song?” His tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying sharpness made my stomach churn. “We cannot be too careful, can we? Especially when such... creativity could inspire subversive activities.”
He paused, his gaze piercing through the crowd, making a pointed show of considering his next actions. It was a calculated pause, one that heightened the tension to an almost unbearable degree.
“However,” he continued, turning back to face the young singer, who remained on her knees, visibly trembling, “we must ensure that such inspirations do not spread misconceptions, or worse, sedition.”
He signaled to one of his guards. The command was silent, a mere flick of his hand, but it was enough. The guard stepped forward and drew his sword with a chilling sound of metal sliding against its sheath.
The realization of what was about to happen dawned on the crowd at once, and I felt Jacob stiffen beside me. The room was utterly silent now, the earlier whispers dying down as each person trembled and held their breath.
“Let this be a lesson to you all!” the emperor declared, his voice echoing off the opulent walls. “We must protect the purity of our history and our empire!”
The guard moved with brutal efficiency; the sound of the sword's arc through the air was the only noise that broke the silence before it met its mark. Brianna's cry was cut short and her body slumped to the floor, her life extinguished in a single, violent motion.
The shock was a living thing. A collective gasp rippled through the room, though no one dared to speak or move. The emperor's rigid gaze swept over his audience, his expression cold and unyielding.
“This is the fate of anyone caught singing this song,” he pronounced. Glancing down at his clothing and shoes, he added, “Seems I need a change of clothing. Carry on.” His voice was steady and devoid of emotion. As he turned and swept out of the stunned ballroom, his entourage in tow, the message was clear…
Disloyalty, or even the perception of it, would be met with the harshest of consequences.
Brianna’s bloody body lay on the pristine polished floor of the ballroom. Jacob covered my eyes and urged me not to look, his voice strained with a protectiveness born of both duty and affection. “Let's get out of here.” His hand was firm yet gentle as he shielded my eyes, his body tensed as if bracing against the horror that had unfolded. The sharp, metallic scent of blood briefly mingled with the rich fragrances of the banquet's earlier delights, a stark, disturbing contrast that curdled my stomach.
I wanted to snort and roll my eyes at his urge to protect his innocent sister. If he only knew. After two tours in the Middle East, I’d seen my share of blood and carnage. But in his eyes, I was his naive little sister, Arya and he wanted to protect my innocence.
Guided by his gentle insistence, we edged through the gaping clusters of stunned nobles and courtiers. Their startled murmurs had dimmed to a hushed whisper, the atmosphere thick with shock and a tangible fear that clung to the air.
“That was barbaric!” I hissed, not caring to hide my disgust. “How can he justify such cruelty?”
Jacob looked down at me, his expression a mixture of sorrow and resignation. “It's his way of maintaining order—through fear. It's not for us to challenge, and you really should be careful what you say here in the palace.” He glanced around the room uneasily. “Anyone listening in would consider what you just said as treason.”
At that, I couldn’t stop my eye roll. Fuck them . That poor girl died because of a song about me and Damien. Who the hell wrote that damn song so fast? I needed to let Damien know what just went down. I was pretty sure the emperor was already planning to target him because he was the only person with a twin flame mark... that they knew of.
Jacob guided us toward one of the tall windows that looked out over the immaculate palace gardens. The cool night air that filtered in when he opened the window offered a slight reprieve from the cloying scent of fear that had permeated the ballroom. “You shouldn’t have to get used to this, Arya,” he added quietly, his voice strained.
I scoffed softly, unable to disguise the fear and frustration coloring my tone. “I'm not used to it, Jacob, and I don’t accept it. There’s no excuse for murdering someone in cold blood.”
Jacob paused and studied my face with a troubled expression. “You’re right,” he conceded. “It’s just... this is the reality of our world. Sometimes it’s cruel and unforgiving.”
We moved to a quieter spot, stepping into a small, dimly lit antechamber furnished with plush chairs. Here, away from the crowd, I was finally able to breathe again, though the stress of what had happened hung between us like a living thing. I honestly just wanted to rip off this damn corset. Then maybe I could breathe.
“Will they at least bury her?” I asked naively.
Jacob peered over at me and shook his head. “She’ll probably be tossed in a mass grave.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “So even if she has family, no one will be able to find her and give her a proper burial?”
He shook his head.
I crossed my arms and huffed bitterly. “This place is horrible.”
“Arya,” Jacob reprimanded, “be careful.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I sat in one of the chairs and leaned back against the cushion.
“We should probably head back before others start to question where I’ve gone.” Jacob stood. “They should have removed the body by now.”
“Right. The body,” I murmured as I followed behind him.