The palace grounds transformed overnight. Where once there was the muted hum of daily life, now there was a vibrant chorus of activity. Tents adorned in royal colors dotted the sprawling gardens, while carriages bearing the crests of neighboring kingdoms arrived in an endless procession. Nobles, envoys, and royals alike descended upon Evirthnia, their presence a reminder of the monumental occasion to come.
The weddings would span twelve days—a ceremony grand enough to reflect the alliance it symbolized. For twelve days, the palace would play host to feasts, dances, and rituals steeped in centuries of tradition. And for twelve days, I would have to wear the mask of composure, hiding the storm that churned beneath.
Renial's return had been a quiet affair, typical of him. His absence over the past several months had been necessary—a diplomatic assignment in the Northern Provinces to maintain alliances. Though he often grumbled about being sent away, his sharp mind and sharper tongue made him uniquely suited for such tasks. He had only just returned to his post as my bodyguard days earlier, just in time for the chaos of the wedding preparations.
"You're awfully quiet for someone whose prince charming is arriving today," Renial drawled, leaning against the doorframe of my chambers. His smirk was as infuriating as ever, his sharp eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't tell me you're nervous. That'd ruin the whole Ice Princess image."
I rolled my eyes, adjusting the hem of my gown with deliberate care. "I'm not nervous, Renial. I'm tired. Tired of listening to you."
"Ah, tired. Of course," he said, sauntering into the room with all the grace of a cat who knew he wasn't supposed to be there but didn't care. "Nothing to do with Lucien arriving today. Absolutely nothing."
"Renial, if you don't stop," I began, my tone a warning.
"You'll what? Have me banished?" He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I'll have you know, I'm rather irreplaceable. Who else could keep you on your toes?"
"Literally anyone," I shot back, glaring.
"Does Lucien even know he's marrying you?" Octavian's voice cut through the exchange as he strolled in, his expression laced with his usual sardonic amusement.
Renial laughed outright. "Oh, that's the best question yet. Imagine his face when he finds out. Priceless."
"Both of you," I snapped, glaring at them in turn. "Out. Now."
Octavian raised his hands in mock surrender, but not before muttering, "I'll leave you to your brooding. Seems to be your specialty."
Renial followed suit, though his grin remained intact. "Try to smile for him, Princess. You don't want him thinking you're entirely made of stone."
I threw a cushion at his retreating back, but the door had already closed behind them.
Later that evening, the sound of trumpets echoed through the courtyard, heralding the arrival of Lucien's family. From the upper balcony, I watched as their procession came into view. The carriages gleamed in the late afternoon sun, their dark wood polished to perfection and adorned with intricate gold and silver accents. The horses moved with regal precision, their manes braided with ribbons in the family's crest colors. Behind them, a sea of attendants marched in perfect harmony, their uniforms crisp and immaculate.
My heart raced. Without thinking, I turned and hurried toward the grand staircase. My mother's voice called after me, but her words barely registered. By the time I reached the main hall, my family was already assembling to greet our guests. Renial stood to my right, his usual smirk replaced with a more neutral expression as he prepared for the formalities. I smoothed my gown and took my place beside them, my chest heaving as I tried to steady my breath.
The first carriage door opened, and Lady Anastasia Goldsinger stepped out. She was as commanding as I remembered, her sharp gaze sweeping across the courtyard with the precision of someone accustomed to assessing battlefields. Her presence alone silenced the gathered crowd. Dressed in a dark green gown trimmed with silver—the colors of Ovkosnia—she exuded the grace of a woman who had led armies and forged victories. Every step she took seemed deliberate, a reminder of the authority she wielded.
Next came Lord Fulbrik, her elder brother and Lucien's uncle. Known throughout the realm as "The Shield of the Ovkosnian Front," his reputation as a master strategist was legendary. His graying hair and weathered features only enhanced his commanding presence as he stepped from the carriage, his sharp eyes surveying the scene with practiced ease.
Finally, Lucien emerged. He descended with the effortless grace that had always set him apart, his lapis-blue hair catching the sunlight. His expression was warm yet composed, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He paused at the base of the carriage, his gaze sweeping across the gathered nobility before landing on me. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of us.
Renial cleared his throat beside me. "Mother, it's good to see you," he said, inclining his head in a small bow, his tone surprisingly genuine.
Anastasia's sharp gaze flicked to him, her expression unreadable for a moment before a faint smile curved her lips. "Renial," she said, her tone carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken reprimands. "You've not been shirking your duties, I trust?"
"Never," Renial replied, the picture of innocence. "Though I can't say the same for Lucien."
"Still finding ways to needle your brother, I see," Fulbrik said with a chuckle. "Some things never change."
Lucien, approaching, caught the end of the exchange. "What have I done now?" he asked, his tone light as he joined us. "Or is Renial inventing offenses for me?"
"Only the usual," Renial said. "Though you've made it easy, what with the endless stream of admirers."
Lucien's grin widened. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, brother."
Before Renial could fire back, Lady Anastasia raised a hand, cutting through their banter with ease. "Enough, both of you. There will be time for squabbling later."
"Yes, Mother," they said in unison, though Renial's smirk lingered.
As their exchange continued, light and teasing, my mother stepped forward to greet Lady Anastasia and Lord Fulbrik with all the dignity and grace befitting the occasion. I barely registered their formalities, my attention fixed on Lucien as he stopped before me.
"Princess Ophelia," he said, his tone formal yet warm, every word carefully measured. "It is an honor to see you again. The years have only added to your grace."
"Lucien," I replied, matching his tone with my own practiced poise. "Welcome to Evirthnia. It has been far too long."
"Far too long," he agreed, his smile softening as his eyes held mine. "Though I must say, time has been remarkably kind to you."
I felt my cheeks warm, though I forced a polite smile. "And you've perfected the art of flattery. I trust your journey was pleasant?"
"Pleasant enough," he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to be personal. "Though I daresay seeing you here makes it worth every mile."
The words lingered, carrying a subtle weight that sent my pulse racing. But then, as if he had sensed it, he stepped back, his expression lightening.
"You look radiant, by the way," he added. "Though I'm sure you're accustomed to hearing that."
The dismissal, subtle but deliberate, stung more than I cared to admit. Still, I returned his smile with the same practiced grace I'd honed for years, determined to mask my disappointment.
"You're too kind," I said. "I trust you'll find the festivities to your liking. They've been planned with great care."
"I've no doubt," he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned to greet the next member of my family.
I exhaled softly, a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. His words had been perfect. So perfectly polite, perfectly measured, and yet they left me feeling strangely hollow. Why did I expect more? Something deeper...something he clearly wasn't offering? No matter how charming Lucien could be, his warmth was a mirage—inviting but untouchable.