The Silver Crown's eastern wing felt stifling, its polished stone walls a stark contrast to the open pines of Scorchvale Ridge. I, Ember, stood by a window overlooking the castle's archery range, the Moonscar Mountains' peaks catching the midday sun. The garden walk yesterday Haven's intense gaze, his words, "Ember, your fire weaves loyalty like a song, and your question challenges me" lingered, stirring a warmth I didn't understand, tempered by the shadow in his eyes when I'd spoken of Kadyn. Why did it darken? My pendant pulsed warm, its crescent moon cradling a star, as if the Old Spirits held answers I couldn't grasp. The full moon, three weeks away, hung like a promise, Haven's choice a weight on my heart.
Below, Sara joined me, her orange tunic soft, her shy voice breaking my reverie. "Ember, do you think Haven's outings will show him who we are?" Her eyes held hope, recalling his kindness at the performance and garden. "He sees your strength, Sara," I said, hiding a pang from misreading his warmth. "Your weaves tell stories." A faint breeze stirred the curtain beside me, unbidden, my pendant warming. The courtyard fountain rippled faintly, a pull to water I couldn't name, and the stone sill hummed under my touch, as if earth called too. The confusion gnawed, as if the Old Spirits whispered secrets.
In the archery range, a grassy field flanked by ancient oaks and targets painted with snarling wolf motifs, Haven led Riven, Liora, and Sable, his black tunic fitted for movement, a quiver slung over his shoulder. Cedric trailed discreetly, his gray cloak fluttering, spectacles glinting, while Vera watched from a shaded pavilion, her gray wool dress stark, her cat-like grace stirring a question—did she guard more than propriety? The air carried the twang of bowstrings and the scent of fresh-cut grass, the sun casting a warm glow. I watched from above, my heart torn between curiosity and the ache of not being chosen for this outing.
Haven handed each girl a bow, his voice warm. "Archery tests focus and strength. It's not just hitting the mark, but feeling the wind, the earth beneath your feet." He nocked an arrow, releasing it with fluid grace, the shaft thudding into the target's center. His golden eyes scanned the group, probing their hearts. "Tell me what shapes you," he said, gesturing to Riven.
Riven gripped the bow like an extension of her arm, her emerald tunic grounding her sturdy frame. Her arrow hit beside Haven's, a solid thunk. "Terra Fang value steadiness," she said, her voice blunt but respectful. "In the misty valleys, my father taught me to shape earth to shield our dens. It's endurance, standing firm against storms." Haven nodded, impressed, his golden eyes meeting hers with a warmth that spoke of mutual respect. "Endurance is a leader's gift, Riven. It grounds alliances, much like your earth." Riven's smile was rare but genuine, a spark of liking flashing—his strength mirrored her own, a connection that felt like kindred spirits, though maybe not romantic, a bond of equals that eased the court's pressures.
Liora stepped forward, her teal satin flowing, her bow held with grace. Her arrow struck near the center, fluid yet precise. "Aqua Paw waters heal," she said, her voice soft. "On volcanic ridges, my mother showed me how to draw streams to soothe burns. It's life, flowing through our hands." Haven smiled, her adaptability. "Healing is a mercy, Liora. Liora nodded, her pearls glinting, a subtle admiration, her grace a mirror to his thoughtful nature.
Sable, her crimson tunic bold, loosed an arrow that grazed the target's edge, her grin unapologetic. "Flame Fang fire is fierce," she laughed. "In Scorchvale Ridge, I sparred with my cousin Kadyn, taming flames into rings. It's passion, burning to protect." Haven chuckled, her boldness refreshing, but his gaze darkened slightly at Kadyn's name, a shadow of his fleeting unease. "Passion fuels leaders, Sable. What of Ember? Is she close to Kadyn?" Sable shrugged, her voice casual. "They're thick as thieves, pack through and through." Haven's smile tightened, the question vague but probing, Sable unaware of the tinge of jealousy it stirred.
As Sable's arrow struck, a shadow fell across the grass, and Fin Dracon, the royal guard leader, Havens' trusted friend, approached, his armor etched with wolf motifs, his dark hair cropped short. His steps faltered, his eyes locking on Riven, a wild-eyed stare overtaking him as the Old Spirits stirred. "MATE," he blurted, his voice rough, the bond igniting like a spark, confusion rippling through the group. Haven froze, his golden eyes wide, as Riven turned, her bow lowering, her gaze meeting Fin's with a confused smile.
"Fin," Haven said, clapping his shoulder, "what do you mean, mate?" Cedric stepped forward, his scholarly mind piecing it together, taking a moment to recall ancient texts. "A fated mate bond," he said, awed, pausing to recollect, "Rare—the Old Spirits haven't blessed a couple thus in decades. It ignites when both are near , binding souls, but the confusion is common, as the pull is sudden and overwhelming. The bond seals when both are of age, a testament to the Spirits' timing." Fin nodded, breath ragged, his wild-eyed stare softening as he focused on Riven. "It's her. I felt...something. I came for a border skirmish report… but then I saw her. The world shifted."
Haven clasped Fin's arm, joy for his friend mingling with his own search. "Congratulations, my friend. A fated mate, the Spirits smile on you. We'll handle the skirmish. As for Riven… we'll relieve her from the court." Fin nodded, his eyes on Riven, the bond a quiet fire that eased Haven's jealousy, a reminder that hearts found their way under the Old Spirits' gaze.
Vera approached, her gray wool dress stark, her silver wolf pin glinting. "Time to return," she said, her voice firm, her cat-like grace stirring a question in Haven's mind—did she guard more than propriety? As she led Liora and Sable back to their chambers, confusion rippled among the girls, whispers spreading: "Why is Riven staying with Haven?" Marina, lingering near Aria, murmured, "It's nothing—Aria's the true choice." I watched from above, my heart pounding as Haven led Riven away, Vera guiding the others, the confusion a storm I couldn't name. What had happened? The elements' pull—wind, water, earth—lingered, my pendant warm, as if the Old Spirits watched, weaving a destiny shadowed by secrets.