Chapter 1
“Sovereign King Cassian Norvil of Noctmere, and Royal-Blood Princess Xienna of House Norvil.”
The herald’s voice rang across the ballroom, and hundreds of eyes turned toward the grand staircase.
Cassian and Odelia stood at the top, framed by the open doors behind them. Odelia tried not to shrink beneath the weight of the crowd’s attention. She had never liked being watched, but Xienna did. Princess Xienna craved eyes on her, whether for admiration, envy, or scandal.
Odelia’s first instinct was to lower her face, but Cassian’s ringed fingers pressed hard around her hand. Pain shot through her knuckles. She did not react. She had learned long ago how to keep pain from reaching her face, especially in public.
“Do not hide,” Cassian hissed. “Xienna does not run.”
Odelia nodded once. Then she lifted her chin and shaped her mouth into the brightest, proudest smile she could manage.
Only then did she allow herself to look at the ballroom.
Though she had spent three days inside Veloria’s palace, this was the first time she had been placed in front of its nobles.
The room had been dressed in the colours of House Valemire: navy-blue banners fell from the balconies, gold thread catching in every fold. Yet the princess’s favourite colour had been allowed to bloom everywhere. Yellow roses filled the vases, pale ribbons curled around the chairs, and the candlelight warmed the room until even the stern royal blue seemed softer for her sake.
Guests from other kingdoms filled the hall as well, dressed in fabrics and fashions Odelia had never seen before. Dark, flushed, and pale faces moved beneath the chandeliers, framed by embroidered collars, jewelled sleeves, patterned skirts, and coats cut in styles foreign to Noctmere. She found herself staring despite herself.
It was the first time she had ever stepped outside Noctmere.
She had never known the world could be this beautiful.
Then Cassian dragged her forward.
Not like a father guiding his daughter, but like a warning made flesh.
“You are Xienna,” he muttered under his breath. “Do not look like some country girl who has finally crawled out of a filthy village. Behave yourself.”
There it was again. The name that was not hers. The reminder that nowhere in the world, not even beyond Noctmere’s borders, was she allowed to be Odelia. She should have been used to it by now, but the ache still came.
“We have been granted an audience with the royal family,” Cassian continued. “Pull yourself together. I will not have you ruin this for our family.”
Our family.
The words caught strangely in her chest. Odelia knew her understanding of family might not be the same as everyone else’s, but she had no other definition to compare it to. This was the only one she had ever been taught.
Cassian gave her no time to gather herself. He led her across the room toward the dais, where the royal family waited. Odelia struggled to match his pace, though not enough for anyone to notice. To the watching court, they must have looked like a father and daughter crossing the ballroom with elegance and grace.
Near the dais, she almost stepped on the hem of her own gown. Cassian stopped just in time, not because he had noticed, but because a line of guests stood ahead of them waiting to greet the king. Odelia released a small breath and quickly straightened before he could look down.
At the foot of the dais, the announcer repeated their titles for the royal family’s formal greeting. Odelia lowered herself into a graceful curtsy while Cassian bowed beside her.
“Your Majesty,” they greeted, then turned toward the prince and princess. “Your Highnesses.”
As Odelia lifted her head, her gaze accidentally met the royal prince’s eyes. Instinct told her to look away. Xienna would not. So Odelia held his gaze.
“King Cassian,” King Edric greeted, before turning to her. “Princess Xienna.”
King Edric de Valemire was known as the ruthless ruler of Veloria. Rumour claimed he had lost his wife to her deteriorating sanity, and that she had taken his heart with her when she fell into despair. Since then, people called him the cold king, a man carved more from duty than feeling.
Yet after three days in Veloria, Odelia had begun to doubt those stories. A cruel king could own a beautiful kingdom, perhaps, but Veloria did not feel unloved.
“Veloria welcomes you,” Edric continued. “I trust your stay thus far has been free of unpleasant inconveniences?”
“It has been nothing but pleasant, Your Majesty,” Odelia answered quickly.
“I am glad to hear that, Princess Xienna.”
Edric regarded her from his seat upon the dais. His gaze was cold enough to send a chill down her spine, and her shoulders stiffened before she could stop them.
“This is my son, Royal Prince Lucien de Valemire,” he said, gesturing to the prince at his left.
Lucien was almost a reflection of the king: silky black hair, sharp features, and icy sapphire eyes. Yet his gaze seemed to carry more warmth than Edric’s.
Possibly.
Lucien stepped forward and bowed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” Then he turned to Cassian. “Your Majesty.”
Odelia curtsied again, careful despite the stiffness in her legs. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”
Lucien straightened. His smile was handsome and courtly, almost harmless if one did not notice the sharpness beneath it.
“I must confess, Princess Xienna,” he said, “Veloria has heard quite a lot about you.”
Odelia kept her smile steady. “Only quite a lot? How disappointing. I thought Noctmere had done better than that.”
A few courtiers nearby laughed softly.
Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, it has. I only thought it kinder not to repeat everything. Some stories are better left out of polite company. Especially the ones that make people wonder how a princess manages to survive without ever learning shame.”
Odelia’s smile nearly slipped.
The insult was not aimed at her. It was meant for Xienna—the loud, arrogant princess whose name she wore. Still, it stung. Perhaps because she stood there in Xienna’s place. Perhaps because cruelty sounded the same no matter whose name it hid behind.
Cassian’s grip tightened around her hand.
Odelia did not look at him, but she understood. He was angry. His precious daughter had been insulted before a foreign court, and since he could not show offence in front of King Edric and half the gathered nobility, his temper sank into his fingers instead.
A thought rose before she could stop it.
If it had been my name his highness mocked, would Father have cared this much?
She buried it quickly. This was not the time to be Odelia.
So she laughed, light and pretty, as though Lucien had amused her.
“Then I shall thank Your Highness for his kindness,” she said. “Though I hope Veloria does not judge every guest by rumours alone. It would make conversation terribly dull.”
The tension softened. A few courtiers smiled, and Cassian’s grip eased just enough to tell her she had not failed.
Lucien, however, looked unimpressed. His smile thinned, as though she had taken the edge from his insult and left him with nothing useful. He opened his mouth again.
“Lucien.”
King Edric’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the moment cleanly.
Lucien stopped.
Edric’s gaze remained on his son. “Enough.”
The word itself was enough to make the warning clear. This was not how a prince greeted the woman who would one day become his wife, even if she came from Noctmere.
Lucien lowered his head slightly. “Of course, Father.”
When he turned back to Odelia, his tone had softened, though not enough to become kind. “I hope Veloria proves worthy of your stay, Princess Xienna.”
For the briefest moment, his gaze flickered to her hand in Cassian’s grip. Then his smile returned, smoother than before.
Odelia curtsied. “I am certain it will, Your Highness.”
Edric turned toward the young woman standing at his other side. “And this is my daughter, Royal Princess Liora de Valemire.”
Princess Liora stepped forward with a grace too calm for someone so young. She had the late Queen Elowen’s soft blonde hair, touched with a gentle yellow tint beneath the candlelight, and emerald eyes bright with shy curiosity. In her yellow gown, standing between her cold father and sharp-tongued brother, she looked like the one warm light in the storm.
Liora curtsied, her cheeks already pink. “It is an honour to meet you, Princess Xienna. Thank you for coming to my birthday banquet. I hope the journey has not made the evening too tiring.”
Then her gaze flickered toward Lucien, and her blush deepened. “And I apologise if my brother was… a little rude.”
Lucien suddenly looked as though the ballroom ceiling had become very interesting.
Odelia almost smiled for real.
For one brief, dangerous moment, she did not know whether to answer as herself or as Xienna. Liora seemed too lovely to meet with arrogance, but Xienna would not soften so easily. So Odelia chose something in between.
“You need not apologise for Prince Lucien, Your Highness,” she said, confident but warm. “I am certain he only wished to make the evening memorable.”
Liora blinked, then laughed behind her gloved hand.
Odelia turned fully to her. “Thank you for welcoming us. I wish Your Highness a joyful birthday, and a debut beautiful enough to be remembered long after tonight.”
Liora’s cheeks flushed brighter. “That is very kind of you, Princess Xienna.”
Kind.
The word sat strangely in Odelia’s chest.
Edric seemed satisfied enough to continue. “My eldest son is unable to join the formal greetings at present. Duty has stolen him somewhere among the nobles, I am afraid. He will offer his respects later.”
Odelia did not need him to say the name.
Crown Prince Aurean de Valemire.
Cassian had made her memorise them all before the journey. Lucien was the betrothed. Liora was the jewel. Edric was the king. But Aurean was the danger she had been taught to fear by name.
Avoid him. Do not draw his attention. Do not let him look too closely.
The rumours called him cold, unreachable, and impossible to deceive. Yet when Odelia had first seen his portrait in the Noctmere library, she had stared in disbelief. That was the terrifying crown prince? He looked almost golden, with Queen Elowen’s soft blonde hair and his father’s icy sapphire eyes.
Then she had turned page after page.
Not one portrait showed him smiling.
The ballroom returned around her: music, candlelight, watching nobles, and Cassian’s hand still closed over hers.
Odelia smiled. “That is no inconvenience, Your Majesty. A crown prince devoted to duty is hardly something to apologise for.”
Edric studied her for a moment. “Graciously said, Princess.”
The formal greeting ended soon after. Liora was drawn away by young nobles waiting to congratulate her, and Odelia watched as the girl brightened among her friends. Her shyness softened into laughter. Her smile came easier. Beneath the yellow roses and golden light, she looked less guarded, more alive.
Veloria’s jewel.
Odelia understood the title then.
Before she could watch any longer, Edric summoned Cassian aside. Advisors, rulers, and important ministers had begun gathering near the edge of the dais, their expressions already turning from celebration to politics.
Cassian released Odelia’s hand at last.
Relief rushed through her, though she dared not show it.
“Behave,” he murmured.
Then he left her with Lucien.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The music shifted into something slower, and couples began moving toward the centre of the ballroom.
Lucien glanced at them, then back at her. His smile returned—not cruel exactly, but not kind either.
“Princess Xienna,” he said, offering his hand, “since the court seems eager to celebrate our engagement, shall we give them something to watch?”
Odelia looked at his hand.
A dance.
Of course there would be a dance. She had trained for this, practised the steps, memorised the rules. Still, the sight of his waiting hand made her chest tighten.
At least he did not grab her.
That small mercy gave her enough time to breathe, to bury the old reflex before it reached her face. Xienna would not hesitate. Xienna would accept as if the whole ballroom had been waiting for her.
So Odelia placed her hand lightly in his.
“How thoughtful of you, Your Highness,” she said. “I was beginning to worry Veloria had run out of entertainment.”
Across the ballroom, Crown Prince Aurean de Valemire watched.
His gaze moved through the room with quiet precision: nobles laughing too loudly over their wine, ministers speaking in low voices near his father, foreign rulers gathering where celebration had already begun to turn into politics. Guards stood along the walls, some alert, some too relaxed. Servants hurried between guests with trays of wine and sugared fruit. Liora stood among the young nobles, flushed and smiling as they adored her with birthday wishes and compliments.
Then Aurean’s eyes found Lucien.
His brother was leading the Noctmere princess toward the centre of the ballroom.
Only then did Aurean truly look at her.
Princess Xienna of House Norvil.
For a moment, the noise of the ballroom seemed to fade.
Aurean studied her the way he studied battle reports and political treaties—searching for what lay beneath the surface.
Bright smile. Proud chin. Careful eyes.
Nothing unusual. Nothing threatening. Nothing that should have drawn his attention at all.
Yet something did.
A flicker of instinct. A warning he could not explain.
His gaze lingered a second longer. Then another.
And for the first time that evening, Crown Prince Aurean de Valemire felt certain of only one thing.
The Noctmere princess was going to be a problem.
