The rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed as thirteen magnificent horses advanced through the Kingdom of Anemoi. Each rider was cloaked in black robes, their faces hidden beneath hoods, a display of calculated anonymity. At the front of the procession, a local guide held the flag of Helios aloft, leading the foreign envoy into the heart of Felicity, the capital city of Anemoi.
The procession passed through bustling streets, where townsfolk paused their errands to watch the spectacle. Though foreign envoys were not uncommon, they always drew attention. Whispers fluttered through the crowd like leaves in the wind, growing louder with each stride of the horses.
"Do you think the prince is among them?"
"They say the youngest of Helios might be here…"
The carriages trailing behind the riders bore ornate designs and gilded accents, leading many to believe that royalty lay hidden within. Yet, unbeknownst to the crowd, the carriages carried no royals—only treasures and gifts for the palace. The Grand Prince of Helios, Dylan de Helios, preferred a subtler entrance, blending in among his people with strategic anonymity.
As the envoy approached the grand palace gates, Burke, one of the councilmen, glanced over his shoulder with growing unease.
"Your Highness," he whispered sharply. "We are nearly at the palace. It would be best if you…"
His words trailed off as he noticed two horses, previously occupied, were now riderless. His brows knitted together as he hissed, "Where are they? Where are His Highness and Xavier?"
Another councilman, Hank, leaned closer, his face pale. "Not again! What are we to do?"
Burke sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "We shall improvise. Hank, you will take the prince's place in the grand carriage."
Hank's eyes widened in horror. "Me? But—"
"No 'buts.' Sit in the carriage, close your eyes, and pretend to be asleep. None of the royal family is here to greet us; no one will know."
"This is treasonous!"
"It is called loyalty," Burke snapped, ushering Hank toward the grand carriage.
Meanwhile, in the heart of Felicity, the Grand Prince Dylan wandered through the lively marketplace with his loyal aide, Xavier, at his side. His dark navy robe blended seamlessly with the commoners, though the glint of his hazel-gold eyes beneath the hood betrayed his regal demeanor.
Xavier, in stark contrast, wore white robes, his fiery red hair peeking out from beneath his hood. His arms were crossed, his expression stern. "Your Highness, what is the purpose of this detour?"
Dylan glanced back at him with a mischievous grin. "To see the kingdom for myself, of course. You don't learn much from grand receptions and diplomatic meetings."
"This is highly improper. The regent and the princesses are expecting you."
"I doubt they are eagerly awaiting my arrival," Dylan muttered, his tone growing wistful. He gazed at the vibrant stalls and the chatter of merchants. "Besides, I find this far more enlightening."
They wandered into a pub, the smoky interior filled with murmurs of gossip. Dylan's sharp ears picked up fragments of conversation—complaints of rising taxes, land seizures, and the rumored tyranny of Duke Nabal, the acting regent.
At a corner table, an elderly man sobbed into his cup, lamenting the loss of his floral shop. Dylan approached him gently, inquiring about his troubles.
"It's that damned Duke Nabal," the barkeep interjected. "He's ruined us all. Taxes, land grabs—you name it. The queen's passing left a void, and he's filled it with his greed."
"What about the princesses?" Dylan asked, his voice calm but probing.
The barkeep hesitated before leaning in conspiratorially. "Haven't seen much of them these past years. They stay hidden away, attending the rare ball or gathering, but never among the people. It's said the eldest, Princess Astrid, stepped down from the throne to avoid the burden entirely."
"Interesting…" Dylan murmured, his eyes narrowing.
Before he could ask more, a loud commotion erupted outside.
"Make way! Make way!"
A grand carriage adorned with the royal crest of Anemoi rolled through the street, its coachman shouting for pedestrians to clear the way. The crowd parted, murmuring with curiosity.
Inside the pub, Dylan and Xavier exchanged glances. "Is that one of the princesses?" Xavier whispered.
Dylan said nothing, his gaze fixed on the carriage.
The carriage suddenly stopped as a young boy tripped and fell into its path. The coachman snarled at the child, his harsh words silencing the crowd.
From within the carriage, a slender hand adorned with jeweled rings pulled back the curtain. A young woman with striking silver hair and delicate features peeked out. Her beauty drew audible gasps from the crowd, but her expression was cold, her voice cutting.
"Why are you wasting time yelling at a child? If he's in the way, move him. We're late."
The boy froze in fear, his scraped knee trembling. Dylan's jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, lifting the boy into his arms and glaring at the coachman.
"Mind your tone," Dylan said sharply.
The coachman sneered, but the woman in the carriage interrupted. "Peter, just go." Her voice dripped with irritation, and she rolled her eyes before retreating into the shadows of the carriage.
Dylan watched as the carriage rolled away, his hands tightening into fists.
"Your Highness," Xavier whispered, his voice laced with concern. "Was that the Crown Princess?"
"No," Dylan replied firmly, his hazel eyes darkening. "She is not the Crown Princess."
Dylan crouched down beside the boy, gently patting his hair as the child sniffled, wiping his tears.
"There, all done," Dylan said softly, his golden-hazel eyes crinkling with warmth. "Be more careful from now on, all right?"
The boy blinked up at him, his earlier fear replaced by awe. "Thank you, mister!"
Dylan chuckled, standing upright as he watched the boy rejoin his friends. Xavier, ever the composed aide, stepped closer, his arms crossed.
"Your Highness?"
"Yes?" Dylan replied, a playful smirk already forming.
Xavier narrowed his eyes. "If she wasn't Her Highness the Crown Princess, do you recognize who she was?"
Dylan tilted his head slightly, his tone nonchalant. "Isn't it your job to know such information?"
"You were glaring at her," Xavier pressed. "Naturally, I assumed you had some inkling of who she might be."
Dylan scoffed, adjusting his cloak. "Did you not observe her manner? Her demeanor alone warranted my glare. Now, enlighten me—who was she?"
With an exasperated sigh, Xavier began, "If she's not the Crown Princess, then I suspect she's Princess Karen, Duke Nabal's only daughter."
"And why, pray tell, should that name mean anything to me?" Dylan asked as they resumed their leisurely walk toward the palace gates.
"Your Highness," Xavier groaned, "I briefed you extensively before our journey. Princess Karen is the cousin of the Crown Princess, celebrated for her beauty. Tales of her loveliness have reached beyond Anemoi's borders."
"Her beauty?" Dylan's brow arched as his voice carried a hint of disdain. "If beauty is what they praise, I must say their standards are alarmingly low."
"You are… an unusual case, Your Highness," Xavier remarked dryly, though his lips quirked into a faint grin.
Their banter was short-lived as they arrived at the grand palace gates, where two burly guards stood sentinel. Dylan stepped forward, his demeanor commanding yet unassuming.
"We are part of the Helios envoy," Xavier declared, his voice crisp. "Kindly allow us passage."
The guards exchanged dubious glances before bursting into mocking laughter.
"Helios envoy? You mean the group that arrived hours ago?" one sneered. "The prince is already inside, probably snoring away in his chamber. Be gone, impostors."
"Scram before we decide to rough you up," added the other with a smirk.
Xavier's face darkened, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. "You dare—"
Dylan raised a hand, silencing him. His gaze, though calm, held a glint of mischief. "There's no need for dramatics," he murmured. Turning to Xavier, he added, "Follow me."
Without another word, Dylan led them away from the gates, weaving through the gardens that lined the palace walls.
"Your Highness, this is unacceptable," Xavier fumed. "They insulted you! They insulted Helios!"
"They were merely doing their duty," Dylan replied with a shrug, his tone light. "Now, help me climb this wall."
"What?" Xavier stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "You wish to sneak into the palace like a common thief? Have you considered the scandal this could cause? Your reputation—"
"Xavier," Dylan interjected, his expression turning impish. "Are you going to help me, or shall I do it alone?"
Muttering under his breath, Xavier reluctantly hoisted Dylan up. The prince vaulted over the wall with practiced ease, only to land unceremoniously atop someone.
"OW!"
The feminine yelp startled him, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, his hazel-golden eyes meeting a pair of vibrant emerald ones.
Before him stood a young woman with long, raven-black hair that shimmered in the sunlight. Loose petals clung to her tresses, and her modest black dress suggested anything but royalty. Yet there was an elegance about her, a quiet grace that belied her plain attire.
"Can you kindly remove yourself?" she demanded, her glare as sharp as a blade.
Flustered, Dylan stepped back and extended a hand to help her up. She ignored it, rising on her own and brushing off her dress.
"You've ruined my sandals," she muttered, searching the ground.
Dylan spotted the overturned sandals near a bush. Kneeling, he retrieved them and held them out to her.
"Here," he offered, his voice softer.
"…Thank you," she murmured, slipping them on. Her gaze flicked to his face, curiosity evident in her eyes. "You're not injured, are you?"
"No harm done," Dylan assured her. "May I know your name?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard. "I think the real question is—who are you?"
Her tone was suspicious, and Dylan's heart sank as he remembered Xavier still on the other side of the wall.
A loud thud announced Xavier's arrival as he tumbled over the wall, nearly colliding with the girl. Dylan instinctively stepped between them.
"Your Highness," Xavier groaned, brushing dirt from his robes. "You'd protect a stranger over your loyal aide?"
The girl raised a brow. "Strangers sneaking into the palace. How quaint. Should I scream for the guards?"
Dylan pressed a hand over her mouth, his eyes pleading. "Please don't. It's… complicated."
She pulled away, her gaze skeptical. "You don't seem particularly dangerous," she muttered. "Fine, I won't alert anyone. But I'd suggest you leave before someone less forgiving finds you."
Dylan inclined his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, my lady."
"Don't thank me. Just go."
As she turned to leave, Dylan called out, "Forgive me, but… have we met before?"
Her step faltered, but she didn't turn around. "I don't think so."
She walked away, her raven hair swaying with each step.
"Who was she?" Xavier whispered as they were led away by a maid named Rosa.
Dylan didn't respond immediately, his mind replaying the encounter. Her eyes… they reminded him of someone he once knew.
"Your Highness?" Xavier prompted again.
"She was… intriguing," Dylan murmured, his gaze distant.
As they approached the palace, Dylan's thoughts were consumed by a single name: Lyra.
Could it be her?