Davinia wakes up surprised by the warmth beside her. Kaelum is still there. His hair is tousled against the pillow, lips parted slightly in sleep. She watches him for a few breaths too long. But he's peaceful like this. And undeniably beautiful.
Before she can look away, his eyes open.
They stare at each other in the quiet golden morning light. The tension is immediate. She opens her mouth to say something anything but Kaelum beats her to it.
"Staring, Princess?"
She flushes, turning quickly away. "No. I was just… surprised you stayed."
"Would you rather I didn't?" he asked.
"I'm not sure yet."
That earns a low sound from him almost a laugh. Almost.
Then comes a knock at the door. Tamila's soft voice. "Your Highness, the Queen has requested your presence in the courtyard for the ancestral rites. Both of you."
Kaelum sighs, sits up, rakes a hand through his hair.
.
.
.
The palace grounds had been transformed into a ceremonial courtyard. Lanterns hung from tall iron stands, flickering gently in the early dusk. A great woven mat stretched out before a stone altar, where white smoke curled lazily from incense bowls.
Davinia stepped into the space in silence, following Tamila's guiding hand. She wore a deep maroon gown, simple but elegant, with gold thread stitched into the hem an Avalorm design meant to show humility before the ancestors. Her hair was pulled back, adorned with thin chains of gold across her forehead, matching the light bindi dot between her brows. She had never looked more royal, even if she didn't feel it.
Beside her, Kaelum walked with quiet steps, dressed in a ceremonial robe that dragged slightly behind his boots. He looked like he hadn't slept. His jaw was tight, his eyes straight ahead. He didn't offer his arm. But he didn't walk too far ahead either.
He was just there. Present. And for some reason, that small thing felt like progress. The two of them approached the center of the mat, where high elders and members of the Royal Council sat legs crossed in a wide circle. Other nobles lined the outer edge. There were no thrones, no cushioned chairs only low wooden stools and the stiff upright posture of old tradition.
King Aaron was already seated at the top of the circle, flanked by Queen Corelia and his eldest son, Henry. A priestess in a white hood stood between burning incense pots, chanting softly in the old tongue. The smell was sharp earthy and herbal.
"Sit," the priestess said, gesturing to the center of the mat. Kaelum lowered himself first without a word. Davinia followed, adjusting her gown carefully as she sat beside him. Her knees felt sore before the rite even began.
"Today," the priestess continued, "we call upon the blood of our ancestors to bless this union, to watch over this bond. The rite has been observed by every royal pair for the last ten generations. What is joined in sight of blood and land must be honored with loyalty and duty."
Kaelum's brow twitched like he was holding back a sigh. Davinia kept her eyes forward, unsure where to look, unsure what to feel. Only two weeks ago she was a stranger to this court. And now she was the wife of a prince who barely looked her way and yet had, oddly, come to her defense just the day before.
Why?
Why speak up for her in front of the princesses? Why choose to sleep in their chambers now? Why say things he couldn't possibly mean? She didn't understand him. Maybe she never would. The rite continued.
At one point, the priestess handed them both clay bowls filled with wine made from black grapes. They were told to drink at the same time without looking away from each other.
Kaelum took his cup first. Davinia hesitated, but followed. Their eyes met for the briefest moment as they sipped. And though there was no warmth in his gaze, there was something else a flicker of awareness. A shared understanding that they were both trapped in the same performance.
She finished her drink, heart beating faster than she wanted to admit.
The incense smoke hung thick in the air, curling around them like silent witnesses. The priestess raised her hands, her voice echoing in the solemn courtyard.
"Now, as is our tradition," she said, "the pair shall share a single secret with one another. This is not for counsel or confession, but for connection. Speak it quietly, and let the ancestors bear witness."
Davinia stiffened. No one had told her this would happen. Her fingers clutched her dress beneath the folds, her heart stumbling in her chest. Kaelum didn't hesitate. He leaned toward her, so close that the edge of his robe brushed her arm, his breath brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered with a tone so serious it felt like he was delivering a war strategy.
"I'm scared of peacocks."
Davinia blinked. Did she hear that right?
Peacocks?
She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh that bubbled up her throat, her shoulders trembling with the effort. Her face burned with suppressed amusement, and when she dared a glance at him, Kaelum was already watching her, an arched brow lifted, the corner of his mouth betraying the smallest twitch of amusement.
The priestess, unaware, continued her slow chanting before the fire, incense curling in the air. Around them, elders murmured, the solemnity of the rite thick in the atmosphere. But to Davinia, it all faded for a moment.
"Your turn," Kaelum murmured under his breath, the challenge in his eyes now more playful than cold.
Davinia swallowed hard, her mind scrambling. She hadn't prepared for this. Tamila never mentioned anything about secret sharing. Everyone around them whispered with straight faces, ancient tradition, deep confessions of bloodlines, sacred vows… And all she could think of was how ridiculous yet oddly sweet his fear of peacocks was.
She leaned in, her voice soft and nervous. "My first kiss… was on our wedding day."
Kaelum stilled. His eyes flicked to hers for a moment, really flicked. There was something she couldn't quite fathom in his gaze, but not cold this time. Not mocking either. Then he looked ahead again, masking it all with his usual calm.
She pulled back slowly, pulse skipping. No comment, just nothing, like hadn't heard her.
After the rites concluded, the gathering shifted from solemn to celebratory. The courtyard was now lit with lanterns swaying gently in the breeze, casting golden glows over carved stone pillars and flowing silk drapes. The air smelled of honeyed yams, and fermented palmwine as servants moved between the elders and guests with large wooden trays stacked high with platters.
Kaelum and Davinia sat beside each other on cushioned stools beneath a grand tent, their ceremonial garments still intact. The drumming began low and steady.
Davinia's eyes sparkled with curiosity as the dancers appeared, graceful women in traditional wraps, their waists adorned with beads that clicked rhythmically as they moved. They danced in tight formation, arms sweeping in the air, feet gliding against the earth with such precision that it looked like a spell woven with movement.
Davinia leaned slightly forward, captivated. Kaelum noticed, his gaze flicking to her instead of the dancers. He remained quiet, but his wine cup stayed full, untouched.
Soon, an elder woman approached their section, her face mapped with age but her smile strong. She held a carved staff and wore layers of coral beads that clinked gently as she moved.
"Davinia," she said warmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The spirits and stars favor you."
Davinia blinked, surprised.
The elder chuckled. "Yes, princess. The fire revealed it when we burned the blessed leaves. You and this brooding husband of yours…" She gave Kaelum a knowing glance. "Shall fall madly in love. And you will bear twins."
Kaelum almost choked on his breath.
The elders nearby burst into laughter, slapping their knees and nodding in agreement.
Davinia's cheeks flushed, somewhere between embarrassment and amusement. She glanced at Kaelum who had gone unusually still, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.
Another elder leaned in, his voice loud with wine and wisdom, "But don't wait two years, oh! If the bed is cold too long, the blessing may run away!"
More laughter.
Davinia tried to laugh with them but swallowed instead. She reached for her wine and took a sip to steady herself. The atmosphere was festive, light, and filled with tradition, but the mention of children, of consummation, sent a strange flutter through her stomach. Not just from nerves… but something else. Something she hadn't dared name.
Across from her, Kaelum finally took a sip of his wine. He leaned close and murmured, "Twins?"
She gave him a helpless shrug, whispering back, "That's what the fire spirits say."
Kaelum tilted his head slightly, watching her face with quiet thoughtfulness. Then he leaned back again, with the tiniest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
For the first time that night, Davinia allowed herself to smile freely.
.
.
.
The morning sun poured warm light over the red stone walls of the inner palace as Davinia adjusted the light veil over her head. Her outfit was simple, flowing linen dyed a soft teal, with embroidery stitched along the hems in silver thread. Milena had picked it out for her, claiming the color made her look "less serious."
"Ready?" Milena asked, peeking in from the corridor, her usual mischief already dancing in her smile.
Davinia nodded, grabbing the small pouch of coins Tamila had tucked into her hands. "More ready than I've ever been."
"Good, because if you didn't come willingly, we would've dragged you out." That came from Princess Evangeline, Jasiel's wife, gliding toward them in a cream dress, her dark curls pinned up with golden sticks, face glowing with excitement.
It had been unexpected, but comforting, how Evangeline had taken to her. After the beading classes, they'd stayed behind once, chatting about everything from court gossip to hair oils. Since then, Davinia had looked forward to their time together.
The guards opened the gates and the three women stepped into a covered carriage drawn by two men. The ride was surprisingly smooth, filled with light banter and jokes about palace life.
"You know," Milena said as she peeked out the window, "the last time I went to the market I found this old woman who swore she sold magical soap that would make any man fall in love with you."
Davinia laughed. "Did it work?"
Evangeline snorted. "Clearly not. Jasiel still looks at me like I stole his horse."
They all erupted into laughter.
The town was alive with energy when they arrived. Colorful stalls stretched along the winding stone streets, each bursting with goods, ribbons, spices, dyed fabrics, and fresh fruit. The scent of roasted nuts, lavender, and something sweet fried in oil hung in the air. Children darted between legs, merchants shouted for attention, and the occasional lute played in the distance.
It was nothing like the polished, echoing halls of the palace. "This way," Milena grinned, grabbing Davinia's hand and pulling her toward a stall draped in shimmering scarves. "You're not leaving without at least one ridiculous market find."
Evangeline followed with a roll of her eyes, but her hands were already picking through delicate earrings made of colored glass.
As they strolled through the maze of vendors, something in Davinia loosened. She was no longer just the new bride of the cold prince, not to the woman handing her roasted honeyed figs with a wink, not to the little girl tugging on her skirts asking if she was a princess, not to the sweet old couple who told her she looked just like one of their daughters. She felt… herself.
They laughed over beading supplies, bargained for spices Milena swore made the best tea for cramps, and even watched a group of young dancers performing a traditional Avalorm festival dance.
"I'm glad we came," Davinia said softly, biting into a sugar dusted pastry.
Evangeline smiled. "You needed this."
Milena nodded. "Sometimes, in a place like that palace, it's easy to forget who you are. These streets? They remind you."
But even in that joy, Davinia caught whispers as they passed a group of older women:
"Is that the prince's new wife?"
"She's prettier than I expected."
"But can she hold him? That Kaelum is colder than winter."
"Poor girl. Do you think they've even shared a bed yet?"
"I give it until midwinter before the crown arranges a second match."
Davinia's smile faltered.
Milena looped her arm through hers tighter, and Evangeline's lips thinned as she turned toward the women with a pointed glare.
"Keep walking," Milena said under her breath. "If I respond, I'll ruin the fun."
But Davinia had already heard enough. Still, she held her chin a little higher. Kaelum may not have loved her yet. But she was no fragile leaf that would break at just gossips.
As the three princesses were walking Milena suddenly stopped, narrowing her eyes down a narrow side alley. "Do you see that?"
Davinia followed her gaze and froze.
A group of men stood huddled near the end of the alley, voices low and shoulders tense. But that wasn't what made her stomach clench, it was one of the men.
She took a cautious step forward, squinting. "Prince Merritt?"
"What?" Evangeline asked, catching the shift in her tone.
"I think that's… Merritt," Davinia whispered, unable to look away. "What the hell is he doing here? And with them?"
Milena raised her brows. "You mean Prince Merritt? The always-grumpy, never-blinks, definitely-sleeps-with-his-sword Merritt?"
Davinia nodded, blinking fast. "But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm imagining things."
"No," Evangeline interrupted, her eyes sharp and focused. "That's definitely him. I've seen that scowl too many times."
Just then, the men shifted, turning down the alley. Davinia watched Merritt glance over his shoulder for half a second, eyes scanning and their group ducked quickly behind a stall of woven baskets.
"Gods," Milena breathed, peeking out. "They turned the corner. Come on."
"Wait, no," Davinia grabbed her arm. "We can't just follow them. That's, dangerous. What if it's nothing? What if."
"If it's nothing, we'll turn right back around," Evangeline said with an all-too-casual shrug. "But things don't happen for no reason."
"And besides," Milena added with a mischievous grin, "this is the most exciting thing I've seen all week. I'm not letting it go."
Despite Davinia's protests, the girls were already on the move. Heart pounding, Davinia followed, whispering prayers under her breath.
They turned the corner just in time to catch Merritt and the others slipping into a crooked building with faded blue paint and a carved sign swaying above the entrance.
"Welcome to The Crooked Horn."
"The Crooked what now?" Milena murmured, her nose wrinkling.
The sound of music, if it could even be called that, thudded from inside. It was chaotic, raw, nothing like the refined lute and harp music of the palace. Something between drums and stomping boots and raucous shouting.
They hesitated only a moment before slipping through the door. Inside was a whirlwind of clinking mugs, spilled ale, off-key singing, and the scent of roasted meat and pipe smoke. A man in the center of the wooden floor was dancing wildly, kicking up his heels, mug raised high above his head. Another stood on a table, shirt undone, declaring something about goat theft in dramatic fashion.
It was… insanity.
"This place is feral," Milena said, eyes wide with delight.
"Why are they dancing like drunk cowboys?" Evangeline asked, mouth half open.
"They are drunk cowboys," Milena whispered back.
A jug of something dark and frothy was thrust in Davinia's direction by a passing man who winked. She dodged it, cheeks flaming.
"We are not supposed to be here," Davinia hissed as they slipped through the bodies, pressing toward the back of the room.
They found a small table tucked away near the back, mostly hidden by thick shadows and a swinging tapestry. Milena flopped into the seat, already people watching like a hawk.
Davinia stayed standing, eyes scanning the crowd with growing anxiety. "Where is he?"
"There!" Evangeline pointed.
Across the tavern, Merritt sat at a long table with the men they'd seen earlier. He wasn't drinking, and he wasn't smiling, but he was talking. His body language wasn't the rigid, prince posture she was used to. He looked… relaxed. Focused. Like this was familiar ground.
"What is he doing here?" Davinia whispered.
Milena leaned in. "Plotting a secret wedding? Running a band of shirtless thieves? Taking dance lessons in secret?"
Evangeline snorted. "All valid guesses."
But Davinia's thoughts were already racing, spinning faster than the flicker of lanterns on the tavern walls. Why would Kaelum's brother and prince of Avalorm be doing here? Who were those men? What did this mean? She didn't know. But she was certain of one thing, this night was only just beginning.