I woke to a warm weight draped over my stomach and a snore directly in my ear.
"Kai," I groaned, voice thick with sleep. "You're drooling on me."
"Birthday gift," he mumbled into the pillow. "You're welcome."
I elbowed him off me, and he flopped onto his back with a theatrical groan, his hair sticking up in every direction like he’d been struck by lightning.
The sun had already crept past the drapes, casting golden stripes across the floor and pooling at the edges of my bed.
He rubbed his eyes, then bumped his forehead gently to mine. “Happy birthday, Sister.”
“Happy birthday, Lifeboat.”
We lay there for a moment, quiet and almost reverent. Nineteen. It didn’t feel like much had changed, but something had. A thread pulled tighter. A clock turned.
Kai rolled onto his side. “We’re old. Practically ancient. Should we start preparing for political marriages and scandal now or after breakfast?”
“You were born for scandal,” I said, stretching. “I was born to clean up after you.”
“Balance,” he declared. “Perfect royal symmetry.”
A knock interrupted the stillness. Bonnie’s voice came through the door, calm and precise. “Princess. Prince Kai. Your attendants are ready.”
Kai flopped dramatically onto the pillows again. “So much for peace.”
Maids swept in moments later, a flurry of silk, scents, and sunlight. Gowns in pale golds and silvers were laid out, perfumes uncorked. One of the younger girls brought in a silver tray of caramel pastries, honeyed figs, and tea steeped with lavender.
Kai eyed the tray. “Are we being fattened for sacrifice?”
“The banquet,” I said, grinning. “Try not to spill anything on your shirt.”
He placed a hand on his chest, affronted. “I’ve never spilled anything in my life.”
“You once poured soup into your boot.”
“That was tactical.”
I rolled my eyes, but the smile wouldn’t leave my face. There were many things I wasn’t ready for — power, politics, the sharp-eyed glances of the court. But this? This morning? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
And the day was just beginning.
The gowns were too stiff, the shoes too tight, the braids in my hair pulled a bit too sharply — but somehow, I didn’t mind. The air was already buzzing with preparations, servants fluttering through corridors with ribbons and silver trays, the scent of sweet wine and polished wood thick in every hall.
Kai had vanished the moment he was dressed, no doubt on some noble mission to sneak extra pastries or escape a second hair combing. I, on the other hand, had just escaped a flock of attendants who insisted my sleeves needed a final adjustment for the seventh time.
I slipped out through the eastern corridor, walking slowly to clear my head.
The sun had climbed high by now, streaming through tall windows and painting amber stripes across the marbled floor. The palace felt alive, like it was breathing through silk and laughter and candlewax.
I rounded a corner—and nearly collided with a lean figure draped in foreign elegance.
“Ah!” the voice gasped in mock horror. “My life! Gone in an instant. Killed on the morning of your birthday. Tragic. Beautiful. Entirely preventable.”
I blinked up into mismatched eyes: one gleaming gold, the other wine-dark violet. Sylas.
He looked entirely unbothered, as always — his silver hair slightly tousled, his coat asymmetrical and fastened with what looked like a feather carved from obsidian.
“You should really stop loitering in royal hallways,” I said, stepping around him.
“Loitering? My lady, I was being dramatic and mysterious. It’s very different.”
I kept walking. He matched my pace without being asked.
“Tell me,” he said, hands behind his back as he walked beside me. “Is it true you’ve come of age and intend to usurp the kingdom through sheer willpower and well-placed eye rolls?”
“No,” I said flatly. “Though I’ve heard rumors you plan to steal the crown using poetry and aggressive lounging.”
“That was only Plan C,” he replied. “Plan A involved juggling torches while seducing the council.”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “How’s that going?”
“Tragically,” he sighed. “They’re immune to charm. Or torches.”
I shook my head, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
As we neared the banquet hall’s eastern corridor, he tilted his head, giving me a mock-inspecting look. “You look very courtly today. Regal. Polished. Mildly intimidating. Is that a new dress or did you steal it off a goddess?”
“It’s just a dress,” I said, but his gaze lingered for a moment too long.
“No, it’s a declaration,” he said, quieter now. “And a very good one.”
The sudden sincerity surprised me — brief but real, like a glimpse of something buried beneath all the glitter and banter.
Then, just as quickly, he grinned again. “If I drop dead during your entrance, know that it was from aesthetic overwhelm. You’ll have to take the throne in my honor.”
I rolled my eyes and slowed near the grand chamber doors. “Shouldn’t you be finding your seat? Or plotting your father’s downfall?”
“Oh, I’m multi-tasking,” he said brightly, already backing away with a flourishing bow. “Don’t trip on the carpet, Princess. But if you do — make it look deliberate.”
Then he vanished around the corner like a breeze had caught him.
I let out a slow breath, brushing my hands down my skirt. The door to the banquet hall loomed before me now, carved in falcons and flowering branches, gold inlay catching the light like fire.
Time to be royal.
Time to begin.
The horns sounded.
A hush fell over the ballroom like a silken veil.
"Announcing Their Highnesses, Princess Kira and Prince Malachi, in honor of their nineteenth birthday."
The great doors opened.
Kai and I stepped in together, arm in arm, beneath the vaulted ceiling of the banquet hall. Our matching royal blues glimmered in the chandelier light, and the silver-threaded falcons on our sleeves caught the fire of every glance. The room erupted into polite applause as we made our way down the grand steps, but it all blurred at the edges. My fingers tightened slightly against my brother’s. He gave mine a reassuring squeeze.
"They’re just nobles," he muttered under his breath, smile fixed.
"That’s exactly the problem."
We reached the base of the stairs, and the crowd swept around us like a tide, courtiers offering bows, compliments, and far too many sweet wines. I returned each smile with the politest version of myself I could muster.
After a few rounds of greetings, Kai was drawn into a conversation with a group of foreign envoys. I let him go, slipping past the edge of the crowd until I found a moment to breathe.
"There you are. I was beginning to think I’d have to storm the royal dais."
I turned.
Sylas.
He leaned casually against one of the marble columns, dressed in dark charcoal with threads of iridescent green that shimmered faintly when he moved. A single silver chain looped from his collar, and his hair looked like it had defied every attempt at order.
He gave a low, dramatic bow. “Happy birthday, your radiant doom.”
I blinked. “My what?”
“What else do you call a girl who walks into a room and immediately unsettles half the court with nothing but a glance?” he asked, grinning as he straightened.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“I try.” His gaze flicked over me, lingering slightly. “And here I thought I was the one causing chaos tonight.”
I laughed despite myself. Just then, Bonnie touched my shoulder with a subtle nod.
“Duty calls,” I said.
“Pity,” Sylas said with a mock sigh. “But very well. Go sit upon your throne of candles and judgment. I shall remain here, looking suspicious and unsupervised.”
I shook my head as I moved toward the main dais.
Cassian met me halfway up the steps.
"You survived the noble onslaught," he said with a crooked smile. His dark tunic bore the same falcon embroidery, though his was paired with the high-collared cloak.
"Barely," I muttered.
He extended an arm, and I took it as we made our way up.
"It’s good to see you back. You look like yourself again. Stronger."
"I feel stronger," I admitted. "But I missed this place. Even if it’s full of dangerous politics and people trying to out-smile one another."
Cassian chuckled. "It hasn’t changed much. Though you’ve missed me scolding half the guard in your name."
"I’m honored."
We parted with a light smile.
The feast was well underway.
Golden platters floated between tables, filled with roasted duck and jewel-toned fruits. Music curled through the air, threaded with laughter and toasts. I could feel the eyes on us at all times. It was the curse and blessing of being royal. But still, the buzz of celebration made it easier to breathe.
I spotted Adrian Lanovo near the wine table, his dark red curls smoothed back and his blue velvet doublet strikingly fine. He caught my eye and offered a dramatic bow before weaving toward me.
"Princess Kira," he said, taking my hand and brushing his lips against my knuckles. "The gods themselves would envy this sight."
"Hello, Adrian," I said, amused.
He smiled. "I was hoping for a dance later. If the royal schedule permits."
"We’ll see," I said with a small, careful nod.
He bowed again, overdone but harmless, and returned to his circle of nobles.
Kai was seated across the room, his silver goblet shimmering in the light as he raised it in toast to one of the visiting dignitaries. He flashed that infectious grin of his, the one that made people forget his sharp tongue and sharper temper. I caught his eye and gave him a small, teasing shake of my head.
"Don’t get too cocky," I mouthed.
He winked in return, raising his drink in mock salute before taking a generous sip.
And then—
It happened so quickly.
One moment, Kai was laughing; the next, his goblet clattered to the floor, wine pooling like spilled blood against the polished stone. He clutched at his throat, his body convulsing as if struck by an invisible force. The chatter in the room turned into a roar of panic, people scrambling away from him. My heart dropped, my body moving before my mind could catch up.
"Kai!" I screamed, shoving past startled nobles. My skirt tangled around my legs, but I didn’t care. I fell to my knees beside him, cradling his head as his eyes rolled back, his breaths ragged and shallow.
"Poison!" someone shouted. The word echoed like a death knell in the room.
I pressed my hands to his chest, desperation clawing at my throat. "It’s okay," I whispered, though I didn’t believe it. "I’ve got you. I’ll fix this."
My healing ability flared to life beneath my palms, a soft golden glow suffusing his pale skin. I poured everything I had into it, willing the poison to retreat, for his body to mend. But something was wrong. His body rejected my magic, the golden light flickering like a dying flame.
"No," I gasped, pushing harder, even as sweat dripped down my temple and my vision blurred. "Please, Kai, don’t do this to me."
His breathing stuttered, his body spasming again. I felt my strength waning, the magic pulling too much from me, but I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop.
"Kira, enough," a firm voice commanded. My father’s voice. But I ignored him, tears streaming down my face as I kept trying.
"Let me go!" I cried, pushing against the hands that grabbed my shoulders. My father’s hands. He yanked me back, breaking the connection between me and Kai. I screamed, fighting him, my body trembling from the effort I’d already expended.
"He’ll die!" I sobbed.
"You’ll die if you keep this up," Father snapped, his voice cracking with a rare emotion—fear. He pulled me into his arms, holding me back as I sagged, too weak to fight him anymore.
Kai’s body stilled, and for one horrible moment, I thought we’d lost him. But then his chest jerked, his back arching unnaturally. A dark crimson glow began to emanate from his veins, spider webbing across his body like molten fire. The air grew heavy, oppressive, and I could feel the sheer force of magic radiating from him. Chairs scraped. Nobles scrambled. No one knew whether to flee or fall to their knees
"What…what is that?" Cassian’s voice was a mix of awe and horror. Our older half-brother had always been composed, but now he looked shaken, his usual mask of indifference shattered.
Mother’s hand covered her mouth, her sea blue eyes wide with dread. "It can’t be…" she whispered.
Kai’s breathing slowed, the crimson light fading as his body went limp. The hall was deathly silent except for the sound of my ragged breaths. High Mage Ariston knelt beside him, his face grave as he examined the faint traces of magic still lingering on Kai’s skin.
"Blood magic," he murmured, the words sending a chill through the room.
"That’s impossible," Father said, his voice hard. "Blood magic has been lost for centuries."
Ariston shook his head. "Not lost. Dormant. And now awakened."
I stared at Kai, my twin, my other half, lying unconscious and pale as death. The crimson glow had saved him, and had fought back the poison in a way my healing couldn’t. But at what cost?
"How long will he be like this?" I asked, my voice trembling.
Ariston’s expression softened, but his answer offered no comfort. "His body is recovering from immense strain. The magic is ancient, and its toll is great. He could sleep for days, weeks…perhaps longer."
The weight of his words crushed me. My hands trembled as I reached for Kai again, needing to feel his warmth, his heartbeat, anything to reassure me he was still here.
Father gently pulled me back. "You’ve done enough, Kira. Rest."
I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. "I’m not leaving him."
Mother knelt beside me, wrapping me in her arms. "We’ll take care of him," she whispered, though her voice wavered. "But you need to take care of yourself, my love."
I wanted to argue, to scream that I wasn’t the one who mattered, but my body betrayed me, collapsing against her. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was Kai’s still face, and the faintest flicker of crimson light beneath his closed eyelids.
Darkness swallowed me whole, soft and suffocating, and for a moment I drifted — not in pain, not in peace, but somewhere in between. Beneath the black, something stirred. A flicker. A memory that wasn’t mine. Or not yet.
The world tilted.
Colors bent and bled together until the edges of everything I knew fell away.
When my feet touched solid ground, I wasn’t in the palace.
I was standing in a vast forest — tall and ancient, older than any map could name. Mist coiled low around my ankles, silver and cool, curling through the moss like breath. The trees stretched toward the heavens, their bark carved with runes I couldn’t read but somehow understood. Wind passed overhead without touching me, rustling the leaves with whispers too soft to catch.
And in the clearing ahead, it waited.
The throne.
I’d seen it before — a glimpse, once, when I’d pushed my magic too far. A vision like a whisper. But this time, it wasn’t distant. It was real. Clear.
Carved from twisted roots and pale stone, the throne rose from the earth like it had grown there. Vines wound around its arms, flowering with pale blue blossoms that pulsed faintly, as if beating with the forest’s heartbeat. Light streamed down from no visible source, catching on the silver shimmer embedded in the stone, and magic hung in the air — thick and ancient.
Someone sat on it.
A figure cloaked in flowing robes that shifted like smoke and water, flickering between firelight and moon-glow. Their face was hidden — not by any hood, but by a veil of shadow that seemed to ripple with the throne’s pulse. Still, I felt it: their presence. Regal. Terrifying. Familiar.
I took a step forward.
The forest exhaled.
My pulse echoed in my ears, but the rest of the world was silent — waiting, expectant. As if the forest knew what I was about to do before I did.
I moved closer.
Leaves rustled beneath my bare feet, though I hadn’t noticed losing my shoes. The air chilled, heavier with every step. The ground pulsed under me, soft and unsteady, like it was alive.
And the figure on the throne lifted their head.
I couldn’t see their eyes, but I felt them. Felt them land on me like a blade made of light. It wasn’t pain, not exactly — just the overwhelming sense that I was being seen, entirely. That I was no longer just a girl in a dream.
Water stirred.
At first it was just a hum beneath my skin, then a rise — streams of it lifting, curling around my arms like silk spun from riverlight. It swirled, delicate and alive, whispering a language I didn’t know, pulling me forward.
My hand lifted.
The figure still hadn’t moved, but I couldn’t stop. The throne called to me — and the water answered. I was almost there. I could almost touch it. My fingers hovered just above the stone, breath shallow, heart pounding—
A tremor rocked the earth.
Cracks spiderwebbed through the moss, light bleeding from them like veins of fire. The air sucked into my lungs too fast. Cold. Real.
The figure rose.
The water around my arms tightened, as if bracing to hold me there.