The grand hall of Oakhart Castle shimmered with candlelight. Massive chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their crystals scattering reflections that danced across polished stone floors. Banners of Oakhart's roaring lion draped the walls, and long banquet tables bowed beneath roasted meats, fresh bread, rare fruits, and imported wines. Musicians played soft, lilting tunes in a corner, though the hum of conversation and clinking goblets nearly drowned them out.
Lyra entered the hall alongside her mother, Lilith—each step measured, her ceremonial uniform gleaming beneath the golden glow. Medals and ribbons adorned her chest, trophies earned on blood-soaked fields. Nobles and knights alike turned to look, some with admiration, others with subtle calculation. Whispers followed in her wake: the hero who returned victorious… yet refused the King's marriage proposal.
Lilith's hand rested lightly on Lyra's elbow, both protective and quietly controlling. Her eyes swept the hall with the practiced acuity of a strategist.
"Steady," she murmured. "Every glance, every word—they are tests. Anything here can be used as a weapon if handled poorly."
Selene had arrived with the army, though the hall's grandeur pressed on her lungs like a weight. She stayed close to Shawn, Rory, and Elise—small and careful amid the tide of nobles. Shawn already looked bored, contrasting sharply with Rory's wide-eyed awe and Elise's calm, grounding presence.
"This place… it's enormous," Rory whispered. "Woah—look at all the food. Am I even allowed to eat that?"
"The King ordered all of this for the celebration," Shawn said, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. It's all for us. You're part of Lyra's company. Our job is to eat and drink. Well… maybe no drinking for you."
He spotted Captain Rita and excused himself with haste.
When Rory made to wander off, Elise stopped him gently.
"Stay close," she said, kneeling to his height. "You're part of General Lyra's company. Nobody will interfere. Go get food—but don't stray too far."
Selene shifted nervously, her gaze drawn again and again to Lyra. The general moved through the crowd like a tide—commanding attention without effort. Every smile she offered, every polite laugh, felt impossibly heavy in Selene's chest, stirring emotions she could neither name nor control.
Nearby, a group of nobles whispered.
"A year is a long time for a general to dally," one lord muttered. "Surely the Princess's hand is a greater prize than chasing ghosts along the borderlands."
Lyra's gaze remained steady.
"Our peace is fragile," she said. "A ghost is harmless—until it becomes an army."
Surprise flickered across the lord's face. His thin smile faltered as he bowed away.
Lilith observed everything quietly, her mind weaving through possibilities. Allies, rivals, the King's favor… and Selene's subtle presence—unknown to much of the court. One misstep could shift alliances. One careless word could become a blade.
At the far end of the hall, Princess Kylie arrived. She moved with graceful confidence, a vision in deep blue silk that shimmered with each step. Her intricately braided hair framed delicate features. Lyra's eyes met hers for a heartbeat—enough to stir a faint, uneasy pang of guilt. Kylie's smile was soft, polite, but her eyes held a complicated blend of hope, hurt, and lingering curiosity.
She approached at last. Nobles nearby quickly dispersed, sensing the personal nature of the moment.
"Congratulations, Lyra," Kylie said, voice low and sincere. "I'm glad you've returned safely."
Lyra's guard eased at the sound—yet her tongue felt uncharacteristically heavy.
"Thank you, Kylie. It's… good to see you again. I…"
"You don't have to explain," Kylie whispered, touching Lyra's arm with tentative fingers. "I know this isn't what you wanted. I wouldn't wish this life on anyone. But I had hoped… it could be with you."
The breath between them tightened. Lyra felt the weight of those words. Her heart already belonged elsewhere—yet she hated the pain in Kylie's eyes.
"I—" Lyra began, then stopped. Nothing she could say in a hall full of ears would be gentle enough. She simply nodded, soft but resigned. "It's good to see you again."
Kylie's lips pressed into a faint line—understanding and sorrow flickering across her features.
"I will not stand in your way, Lyra. But know… I will not forget this feeling."
Before the moment could deepen, Princess Rayah bounded toward them with her usual bright energy.
"My good friend! Come—tell me your adventures. All of them! Don't you want to hear them too?" she asked Kylie.
Kylie's smile softened. "Yes. I always do."
Lyra managed a small laugh. "Alright."
From a distance, Lilith watched, eyes narrowed. She catalogued everything—the exchanged glances, the tension, the Princesses' interest, Selene's hidden presence. A thousand strategies flickered through her mind. She would have to intervene soon, quietly, before affection and politics intertwined too tightly.
After a time, Lyra excused herself from the sisters. The weight of the hall pressed on her—admiration, expectation, scrutiny. She moved through the crowd with trained precision: a smile here, a nod there, a silent thanks to those who had fought beside her.
Rory, seated beside Elise, was enraptured by the spectacle. He didn't grasp the politics, but he sensed the tension—subtle glances, hushed whispers. Elise, ever alert, kept a steady hand on his shoulder.
Time dragged as goblets clinked and murmurs spread. Selene leaned closer to Elise and Rory.
"I… I can't stay in there long," she whispered. "It's too much. Too loud."
Rory frowned, still happily watching a combat play with fancy moves.
Eventually, Selene whispered, "I need air."
Elise understood instantly. She guided Selene toward the balcony doors—slipping through the crowd unnoticed—then nodded and left her there, trusting Selene to be safe. Rory, however, seemed to have already wandered off again.
Outside, cool night air rushed over Selene like a balm. The clamor of the feast dulled behind her, replaced by rustling wind and the glitter of distant city lights. She finally breathed.
"I… didn't want to be in there," she murmured. "Too many people. It felt… suffocating."
Lyra stepped from the shadows, her presence warm, grounding.
"It's alright," she said gently. "Crowds can overwhelm anyone. It doesn't make you weak."
Selene's green eyes shimmered. "Your mother… she doesn't like me. I feel… trapped," she whispered.
Lyra's chest tightened. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she would make you feel that way."