As they walked through the royal streets toward the banquet hall, the golden embroidery on Prince Orion's flowing robe shimmered beneath the lantern light.
He moved with composed elegance, hands folded behind his back, followed closely by a small entourage.
Among them walked Prince Alden, his gaze narrowed, his thoughts distant—focused not on the grandeur around him but on the faint possibility of encountering Princess Aleriana.
To Alden, she wasn't just a royal figure. She was a symbol—an answer to a question he hadn't dared to ask aloud.
Aleriana had achieved what his own mother believed to be impossible for a girl.
She shattered every constraint, every expectation.
She existed as a girl wielding a sword, standing toe-to-toe with princes, even surpassing some of them. And she did it without needing to shed her identity.
That image haunted Alden—in a way that both inspired and tortured.
