I stood beside Caliza among a small crowd gathered outside the entrance hall, Kiva at my back. The massive wooden doors were pinned open, revealing the circular courtyard beyond leading to the north gates and the main road between the Thereal and Caravel Wings.

Caliza’s handmaid had helped me dress, as I didn’t have my own. A lifetime spent wearing pants and shirts made it unnecessary, especially when I often rose earlier than the castle staff to train, and most Rhodairen dresses were simple enough that it wasn’t needed.

While I couldn’t care less about impressing the prince, there was no denying the dress Caliza had commissioned was beautiful. It was made in simple Rhodairen fashion, with several silvery tiers of sheer cloth layered like the petals of a rose over a gray base.

I’d almost worn gloves. After the fire, I’d worn them constantly to hide the bandages, and later, the scars. Most people refrained from asking me exactly what’d happened, but almost everyone stared. Kiva had talked me into going without them once, and I’d left them behind since.

The late afternoon sky mirrored the gray of my dress, turning the air humid and threatening thunder.

Caliza wore a swirling steely dress lined in white that complemented my own. I imagined us from Ericen’s perspective, two storm clouds drifted down from the sky, and my confidence surged.

This was my territory, my home. Whoever Ericen was, I could handle him.

Horses rounded the bend ahead, followed by a navy-blue carriage and several more mounted soldiers. The carriage was elegant, bedecked in gold that sparkled even in the filtered sunlight. The horses were beautiful, massive creatures, larger than any I’d ever seen, with glistening coats of pure black. The soldiers made for imposing figures on their broad backs, clothed in dark armor and armed to the teeth.

Caliza slipped her hand into mine. Before I could pull away, she squeezed it gently and let go. I released a breath and forced my face to go blank. I refused to be impressed or intimidated.

The procession pulled around the courtyard, the carriage stopping directly before us. My chest constricted, my fingers drumming on my leg. Two soldiers dismounted and approached the carriage door. I curled my fingers into my dress. The carriage door glided open.

Prince Ericen was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen. With a short crop of black hair and eyes brighter than a bluebird’s feathers, he was all crisp, clean edges and rich, manicured Illucian style. Near my age, he had broad shoulders and a lean build, and although tall, he was still shorter than Kiva.

The prince approached, flanked by two guards. His cold eyes scanned the crowd, the castle, the grounds—evaluating, judging, and duly unimpressed. His lip curled, a sneer spreading across his face.

A man standing beside Caliza bowed and said, “May I present Prince Ericen Rulcet.”