Chapter 3: Secrets in the Snow
The following morning, Ilyana awoke before dawn. Sleep had come fitfully, plagued by strange dreams of flames encircling her, only to be smothered by a creeping frost. It left her feeling restless, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The palace, usually filled with the warmth of crackling fires and the steady hum of life, felt unusually still.
She rose from her bed, draping a scarlet cloak over her shoulders to ward off the morning chill. The palace halls echoed with the soft taps of her boots as she made her way to the garden, seeking solace in the one place that usually offered her clarity.
Stepping outside, Ilyana was greeted by the warm glow of the rising sun spilling over the palace walls. The gardens, lush with fiery blossoms, stretched out before her like a sea of flame. The air smelled sweet, tinged with the heat of the early morning sun, but there was a sharp contrast to the inner chill she couldn't shake.
Her mind drifted back to Prince Draelen. His icy demeanor had unsettled her, yet there had been moments during the feast when she glimpsed something deeper—something more than just a cold, calculating prince. His words from the night before echoed in her mind: "Perhaps you are meant for more than mere duty, Ilyana."
How could someone who embodied frost understand her so well? The thought unnerved her. She didn't know if she could trust him—or if she should.
A movement caught her eye. Near the garden's edge, standing as still as a statue, was Draelen himself. His silver hair glinted in the sunlight, and his pale blue cloak made him stand out against the vibrant surroundings. He seemed lost in thought, staring at one of the flaming flowers that bloomed in the Kingdom of Fire, a sight that must have been foreign to him.
Ilyana hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to approach him or leave him to his contemplation. But something urged her forward, a pull she couldn't quite explain.
"You're up early," she called out softly, stepping onto the gravel path leading to him.
Draelen turned slowly, his eyes locking onto hers. "I could say the same about you, Princess," he replied, his voice calm but not unkind.
"I find mornings offer a certain... peace," she said, coming to stand beside him. "A quiet before the duties of the day take hold."
Draelen nodded, his gaze drifting back to the flower in front of him. Its petals glowed a deep crimson, flickering softly as if the fire within was alive. "Your kingdom is... unlike anything I've seen. I can see why you would find comfort here."
"It's home," Ilyana said simply. "I know nothing else."
Draelen studied her for a moment, as if weighing his next words. "And yet, you don't seem entirely content here."
Ilyana stiffened slightly. "What makes you think that?"
He turned fully toward her, his icy blue eyes unwavering. "You speak of duty like it's a burden, not a responsibility you embrace."
Her pulse quickened. "You speak as though you know me."
"I don't claim to know you, Ilyana," Draelen replied, his voice quiet but firm. "But I recognize someone trapped by expectations—someone who feels the weight of a crown before they've even worn it."
Ilyana's chest tightened. She wanted to deny it, to defend herself, but the truth lingered on the edge of her mind. He had seen through her mask, and the vulnerability of it made her feel exposed.
"And what about you?" she countered, trying to regain her footing. "You seem perfectly content with the role you've been given."
Draelen's expression darkened slightly, a shadow crossing his face. "My role is clear, and I do what is necessary for my people. But contentment... that is something I no longer seek."
Ilyana frowned. "Why not?"
"Contentment is fleeting," he said, his voice low. "Especially in a world where power and survival are intertwined. In my kingdom, we do not have the luxury of peace like your people do. The Frost Kingdom is harsh, unforgiving. I was taught from a young age that duty comes before everything else—even desire."
The bitterness in his tone surprised her. He wasn't as detached as he appeared—there was a depth to his cold exterior that she hadn't anticipated. "But what do you desire, Draelen?" she asked, her voice softening.
He met her gaze, and for a moment, his expression softened. "I don't know anymore," he admitted. "I've been groomed for this alliance for as long as I can remember. But that doesn't mean I understand it—or that I accept it."
Ilyana studied him, the tension between them palpable. There was a shared understanding, a mutual sense of entrapment by their roles. She had spent so much time thinking of herself as the only one burdened by this union, but Draelen carried his own chains.
The air between them seemed to crackle, not with fire or ice, but with something unspoken.
"Then why agree to it?" Ilyana asked, the question escaping her lips before she could stop it.
Draelen's jaw clenched slightly, and he looked away, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon. "Because I have no choice," he said, his voice laced with resignation. "My father—King Aeric—believes that this alliance will save our kingdom. The Frost Kingdom has struggled for years, with food shortages and the harsh climate taking a toll on our people. He sees this union as our last hope."
Ilyana felt a pang of sympathy. She had never considered what was at stake for Draelen's kingdom. She had only thought of the alliance as a political maneuver, but for him, it was survival.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know."
Draelen turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You couldn't have known. And you owe me no apology. We are both bound by the needs of our people, and that is all that matters."
Ilyana's heart ached at the cold truth of his words. Duty, survival, sacrifice—it was the same for both of them. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be more to their lives than this.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, Ilyana took a deep breath. "Perhaps we don't have to let duty define us," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draelen's gaze softened, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something other than ice in his eyes—something warm, uncertain, and vulnerable.
"Perhaps," he murmured. But even as he said the words, Ilyana could see the doubt in his expression.
They stood there in silence for a moment longer, neither of them willing to break the fragile connection that had formed. But the world around them was already pressing in, the weight of their responsibilities looming large.
"I should return," Draelen finally said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "My advisors will be expecting me."
Ilyana nodded, though a part of her didn't want the moment to end. "Of course."
As Draelen turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at her one last time. "Ilyana... I hope that, in time, we can learn to trust one another."
Her heart skipped a beat. "I hope so too."
With a final nod, Draelen disappeared into the palace, leaving Ilyana alone in the garden. The warmth of the sun surrounded her, but the chill from their conversation lingered in her bones.
For the first time, she realized that Draelen wasn't just a prince of frost—he was a man carrying the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders. And somehow, in the midst of their shared burdens, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to navigate this together.
But in the distance, a storm was brewing, one that neither of them could yet see.