The morning arrived far too quickly.
I woke to the soft flicker of enchanted lanterns, their golden light mimicking the early sunrise outside my windows. The sky beyond my balcony was still painted in gentle hues of violet and pink, but even in the quiet of dawn, I could feel the weight of the day ahead.
I had barely moved before my chamber doors opened, and a group of maids entered with precise efficiency. They worked wordlessly, drawing open the curtains, setting out freshly prepared tea, and arranging the day's outfit on the nearby divan.
A deep navy dress embroidered with silver threads. High-collared, elegant, and just as absurdly regal as every other outfit in my wardrobe.
I sat up slowly, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from my eyes.
One of the maids approached, carrying a golden tray with delicate breakfast pastries, fresh fruit, and a warm cup of spiced milk.
"You have a long day ahead, Princess," she said softly. "Your mothers requested that you eat before they come to fetch you."
I sighed. "Because they expect me to be perfect today."
She hesitated before nodding. "It is a… significant occasion."
That was an understatement.
My grandparents were coming.
Not one pair.
Two.
Both Verania's and Sylvithra's parents two generations of conquerors and warlords, rulers who had once held the empire in their hands before passing it to their daughters.
I had never met them.
Not once in my four years of life.
And now, suddenly, they were descending upon the palace to see me for the first time.
It was hard to tell whether that was a good thing or a terrible omen.
I picked at my breakfast, my appetite lukewarm at best. The maids continued their work, fixing my hair into an elegant half-up style, weaving silver pins into the strands.
By the time I was dressed, the tension had settled deep in my bones.
There was a knock at the door.
"Enter," I said, already knowing who it would be.
Verania strode in first, her crimson coat sweeping behind her as she moved with effortless confidence. Sylvithra followed at a more measured pace, her silver robes flowing with a quiet grace.
They both looked impossibly composed, like the weight of the day didn't affect them at all.
I didn't believe it.
"You are ready," Sylvithra observed, her eyes flicking over my appearance with sharp precision.
Verania gave a satisfied nod. "As expected of our daughter."
I sighed. "Am I supposed to be nervous?"
Verania laughed. "Nervous? No. You are the heir of Velmoria. It is they who should be eager to meet you."
Sylvithra's gaze softened just slightly. "But they are formidable. Do not mistake their affection for weakness."
I had no intention of making that mistake.
I exhaled slowly, schooling my expression into something unreadable. "Let's get this over with."
Verania beamed, resting a firm hand on my shoulder. "That's the spirit."
Together, we left the chamber, making our way toward the grand hall where the meeting would take place.
The palace halls were busier than usual, servants and guards moving with sharp efficiency, ensuring that everything was in place for our guests. The closer we got, the heavier the air became, thick with the presence of powerful figures arriving in our domain.
We stepped through the final set of doors.
And there, waiting for us, were the people who had ruled before us.
Four figures stood in the vast chamber.
Two on Verania's side. Two on Sylvithra's.
I studied them quickly, committing every detail to memory.
On Verania's side—
A towering woman with the same golden eyes as my mother, her presence fierce enough to command a battlefield without saying a word. Her hair was cropped short, streaked with fiery red and silver, her frame encased in battle-worn armor despite the formal setting.
Beside her stood a man, broad-shouldered and sharp-jawed, his expression unreadable. He carried himself with unshaken confidence, the kind of presence that only came from years of leading armies.
On Sylvithra's side—
A woman dressed in deep navy, her silver hair braided intricately, her eyes a piercing shade of violet that seemed to cut through the very air. She stood with the kind of unshaken grace that spoke of quiet, lethal intelligence.
The last figure was an older man, his hair a soft shade of ash, his gaze calm but undeniably sharp. He wore layered silks embroidered with silver sigils, his posture effortlessly poised.
Four rulers. Four warlords.
And all of them had come to see me.
I stepped forward, meeting their gazes without hesitation.
The silence stretched for a moment too long.
Then the woman in armor Verania's mother grinned.
"She has her mother's fire," she said, voice rich with approval. "I like her already."
I inclined my head slightly. "It is an honor to meet you."
The other woman Sylvithra's mother tilted her head. "She speaks well."
"She speaks perfectly," Sylvithra corrected. "As she should."
Verania's father chuckled. "Of course she does. She is ours."
Their reactions were not unkind.
But they were assessing.
Studying me, weighing me.
Testing to see if I was worthy of their legacy.
I met each of their gazes without flinching.
Sylvithra's father finally spoke, his voice smooth as silk. "We have heard much about you, child."
I gave him a polite smile. "All of it true, I'm sure."
There was a pause.
Then Verania's mother let out a booming laugh. "Oh, I like her."
Sylvithra's lips curled just slightly. "Naturally."
The tension in the air didn't fade entirely, but it shifted.
This was not a battle.
Not yet.
But it was a test.
And I had passed the first part.