The evening had settled heavily over the palace, cloaking the stone halls in an oppressive, velvety dark. Inside the sitting room, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and the dying crackle of the hearth. I sat tucked into the corner of the plush sofa, my frame small against the expansive cushions, while Prince Cassian lounged beside me, his presence an anchor in the sudden gloom.
Across the room, Sera remained near the fireplace, its embers casting flickering, skeletal shadows against the floor. Prince Lorenzo stood by the tall, arched window, his silhouette rigid. He was scanning the grounds with the practiced vigilance of a wolf, his eyes tracing every flicker of movement in the storm-lashed gardens.
The transition to darkness was instantaneous. One moment, the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the chandeliers; the next, a heavy, suffocating inkiness swallowed us whole.
"What the heck?" Cassian's voice cut through the dark, tight with annoyance.
Outside, the storm shrieked like a wounded beast, the wind clawing at the stone facade with frantic, invisible fingers. A servant hurried into the room, his footsteps frantic on the marble. "Your Highnesses, the storm has intensified to a gale. Please, remain indoors and be together," he stammered before vanishing back into the corridors.
"Wow, wonderful. Just how I wanted to spend my night," Sera muttered, her voice dripping with exhaustion. The weariness of our journey hung on her like a leaden cloak; And now there was this unusual cold in the South, a region known for its warmth.
And now unusual temperature in the south, which was known for hotness.
"Oh, Princess Sera, surely this is the perfect moment for us to bond, is it not?"
The voice was a low, velvet rumble, close for comfort. Before Sera could pivot, a calloused, steady hand slid under her jaw, tilting her chin upward with a deliberate, maddening grace.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she was met with the cold, piercing light of Lorenzo's gaze. There was a dangerous care in my brother's eyes. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his thumb brushing the line of Sera's jaw. "Are you cold, Princess Sera?"
"Yes, it's just probably nothing—no, never mind," She replied, her voice clipping into a deadpan monotone. Her face turned her cheeks turned a shade of crimson, I smiled softly to myself as I watched her and my brother. But then, the masked man words I remembered.
My brother, Lorenzo shrugged off his coat, the one he had brought from the North, the movement fluid and broad-shouldered. "Put it on, Sera. I wouldn't want my future wife to succumb to the chill."
He held my gaze for a heartbeat longer, before he finally withdrew his touch.
"I won't die from a little draft," Sera snapped, though she snatched the garment from his hands. She wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Come here, Eirlys, dear."
The tone was entirely different now. Soft, teasing, and filled with a warmth I hadn't known Cassian possessed. I turned to see Cassian opening his arms slightly, a silent invitation that had me flushing such a deep shade of rose that I feared I might combust. I hesitated for a trembling second before sliding into his embrace, tucking my head against his chest. The warmth of his body made me cry again, as I had forgotten what peace felt like.
Sera watched us, a genuine, soft smile tugging at her lips.
Hours bled into one another. The storm eventually relented, its fury replaced by a rhythmic, mournful patter of rain. I had succumbed to the exhaustion, my head resting heavily on Cassian's shoulder. Though I could tell, he hadn't moved; he simply watched me, his fingers periodically reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
Then, the heavy oak doors groaned open.
"Your Highnesses, the storm has passed," a servant announced, bowing low. "We are restoring the light."
One by one, the wall sconces and intricate bronze candelabras flickered to life, bathing the room in a warm, amber glow. Cassian stirred, shaking Eirlys gently. "Hey, Eirlys. Let's get you back to your room."
I opened my eyes and rubbed them. "Okay…" my voice raspy with sleep.
We retreated together, I was standing by the stairs to the second floor, my back to Cassian. I stared directly at Sera, my expression devoid of the warmth I usually wore. It was a cold, calculating look, the look of someone trying to uncover a dangerous secret. As I remembered the mission the masked man had given me.
As soon as our eyes locked, the expression vanished, replaced by a practiced, innocent mask as I turned to follow Cassian.