The kingdom of Zephyrion was unlike any other realm in the known world. Its golden spires floated high above the earth, tethered to the clouds by shimmering vines of crystal. The air was alive with magic and every breath carried a hint of wonder. But for Princess Amara, the kingdom's beauty had long lost its charm.
"Another tea party with Duke Grimsby?" Amara sighed, pacing the marble floor of her tower. "He talks more about his velvet waistcoats than the plight of the villagers." She pressed her face to the window, watching as flocks of winged doves darted across the rosy sky. A sense of longing tugged at her chest, sharper than usual.
Her lady-in-waiting, Lila, bustled in carrying a tray of delicate pastries. "Your Highness, you'll give yourself wrinkles if you keep frowning like that. Besides, Duke Grimsby's not so bad… at least he doesn't smell of onions like Baron Thistlewood."
Amara groaned. "
"Lila, did you see that?"
"See what?" Lila asked, squinting at the sky.
Before Amara could respond, a loud crash echoed from the palace gardens below. Without a second thought, she grabbed her cloak and darted down the spiral staircase, ignoring Lila's protests.
The gardens were chaos. A strange contraption, a glider of sorts made of colorful canvas and spindly wood lay crumpled among the rose bushes. And tangled in its wreckage was a young man. His dark hair was windswept, his tunic torn, and his boots looked far too well-worn for a noble.
Amara approached cautiously, her heart pounding. "Are you hurt?"
The young man looked up, his hazel eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and embarrassment. grin. "The one who once smuggled herself into a peasant festival disguised as a shepherdess."
Amara's cheeks burned. "That was years ago. And how