Metheea stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the nobles of Katarthan move in a dance she had never learned. It was something she should have mastered long ago as a princess of Katarthan, but she never had the chance.
Her chest ached as she realized again that she was not one of them. And she might never will.
The Katarthan Kingdom should have been a home to her, but even it's name only filled her with fear.
And now, she wasn't Princess Metheea Feylisse of Katarthan and Dythrid, borne from Queen Tilde of Dythrid and King Hasel IX of Katarthan, two kingdoms now on the verge of war.
For now, she was just Lisse Latrin, a girl from Dythrid sent to the Royal Academy of Katarthan to train as a proper wife after being forced into an engagement with Virry.
Her hair, once blonde, was now dark. Her eyes, once amber, were hazel. The changes came from Dythrid illusion magic, the kind that was dangerous even to the caster. But she hadn't had a choice. It was either this or die.
Like her mother always said, she was a target. And here, that danger was doubled.
Everyone around her was laughing and enjoying the welcome ball but she felt only dread. Every moment in that ballroom was a risk. One wrong word, one mistake, and someone could figure out who she really was.
"Lisse, do you want to dance?"
She turned to see Kairis and Erosian, the only people she recognized. Her heart jumped for a second, but their easy smiles helped her relax.
They were twins from a noble Katarthan family. She had first seen them and sat with them during the opening ceremony. They looked almost identical except for the length of their hair. What made them different was how they moved. Kairis walked lightly, every step careful and graceful and Erosian moved in a more relaxed way.
"I don't know how," she said quietly.
Kairis laughed. "Right. I forgot."
"We can show you," Erosian said, offering his hand.
She smiled a little but shook her head. "Maybe later. I need some air."
Kairis smiled softly as if sensing her unease. "Then find us when you're done,"
She nodded and turned toward the doors. As soon as she stepped outside, the noise faded behind her. She kept walking, picking up her pace, needing space and silence more than anything else.
The night was cold. She had no cloak, just soft shoes and a thin dress. The chill cut through her sleeves and the gravel paths pressed sharp against her soles. But she didn't stop.
The garden was quiet, and the moonlight made everything look magical. The roses climbed the marble columns, and the roses looked pretty under the moonlight.
"I—"
She jumped at the voice.
A man stood a few steps away. He was tall, with messy black hair falling over his forehead. She had to tilt her head back to see his face.
"Why would you do that?" she asked sharply, hand pressed to her chest. "You scared me."
He gave a sheepish smile. "Didn't mean to."
She took a step back, tense, watching him carefully for anything strange. Her heart was beating fast, and she tried to read his expression, his posture, and the way he held himself but nothing about him seemed threatening, yet something about the way he looked at her made her feel exposed. He was calm and closer than she was comfortable with. And yes, he was handsome, in that kind of effortless way that made it harder to think clearly, which only unsettled her more.
"Were you following me?"
He shook his head. "No. Just thought you looked like you needed company."
"If I did, I wouldn't pick you," she said, stepping back again, needing more space between them even though her voice stayed steady.
"I'm harmless."
She looked at his hand. It was bigger than her face. He can easily do damage to her if he wanted. "I don't know," she said quietly. "You're big enough to break me."
He noticed where she was looking and laughed, spreading his fingers. "You flirting with me?"
"Flirting?" she asked, the word strange in her mouth. "Is this called flirting?"
He leaned back, settling onto the edge of the fountain. "Hmm," he said, thoughtful but still smiling. "With a beauty like you, it can be. What's your name?"
The word hit her harder than she expected. No one had ever called her that before without reason or hidden meaning. She looked away quickly, not knowing what to do with the heat that rushed to her face.
She hesitated before giving her fake name. "Lisse."
"Nice to meet you, Lisse-who-likes-hands," he said with a grin.
"I don't," she said quickly. "They're just... really big."
He smirked at her clearly finding her amusing. "Big? You know what else is big?"
"Your ego," she answered quickly before chastising herself for even talking with this stranger.
"I was going to say my charm, but that works."
She took a step back again, eyes shifting toward the path behind her. "I should go," she said, voice soft but steady, hoping to end the conversation before she let it continue any further. Her body moved slightly sideways, testing for an exit, trying not to look like she was retreating even though that's exactly what she was doing.
He placed a hand over his chest. "Stay. I'll try to behave."
She stared at him, confused. Katarthans were supposed to be serious and harsh but this one was too relaxed, too casual, too quick to joke. She thought back to Kairis and Erosian too. Maybe they are the exceptions?
He grinned, eyes flicking over her again. "What's a goddess like you doing out here all alone?"
She blinked, caught off guard again, her breath stalling in her throat.
"Lisse!"
She turned to see Kairis and Erosian walking toward her.
"You've been out too long," Kairis said, walking to her as fast as she could.
Too long. Just long enough for someone to notice. "Ouch. The stones are too sharp. Let's go."
She glanced back, but the man was gone. Her brows furrowed slightly. What did he want from her? It hadn't felt like some casual conversation. He had shown up too suddenly, stayed just long enough to say the right things, and vanished before she could think twice. There was something deliberate in his presence and that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"I'm coming," she called, walking quickly to join them.
From the shadows, Prince Arzayel watched her leave. He hadn't planned to speak to her. He had only wanted to see the girl who arrived just as the princess vanished.
Part of him had hoped it was her but he couldn't feel the dragon blood in her. There was no pull.
Her appearance was wrong. Her hair and eyes didn't match the last record they had of the princess. Dythrid magic could change those things but still, nothing about her felt right.
"Your Highness," someone said behind him. A man knelt on the ground. "The mouse has left the building."
"Good," Arzayel said. "Follow him. He'll lead us to the rest."
"And the princess?"
"She was sent to Makutaye for her engagement. Rend followed the trail."
He said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
The agreement between the two kingdom when their rulers married was that he would inherit Katarthan, and Metheea, as his younger sister, would inherit Dythrid. It was supposed to be balance, a future they could control together. But now their mother had turned her into a pawn, shipping her off to another kingdom like a bargaining chip.
They would regret that.
But not yet.
He looked in the direction the girl had gone. "Look into her. Find out who she really is. And tell Rend. It's time to bring Metheea home."