The days after my contract with the gods passed in a haze.
I remained in bed, though my body no longer felt as broken as it had before. My strength returned slowly, like water dripping into an empty cup. The markings across my skin still burned faintly, the black-and-white tattoos twisting like vines.
The symbol of music on my forehead glowed whenever I closed my eyes. And my hair—long, white, heavy—reminded me with every movement that I was no longer who I had been.
My family kept me guarded. Servants whispered and hurried through the halls with lowered eyes. My father allowed no one near unless he trusted them, and even then, his hand never strayed far from his sword. My siblings lingered in my room more than ever before, though they hid their concern behind sharp words and cold tones.
But even the strongest orders cannot bind a loose tongue.
The physician.
He had been the first to see my body twist and change when the gods remade me. He had watched as my hair turned white, as my eyes burned with light and shadow, as the marks carved into my skin glowed with otherworldly fire. He had fallen to his knees that night, whispering words of disbelief.
And yet, though he swore loyalty before my father, he carried what he saw beyond our walls. In the dark of the following night, he slipped from the manor, riding his thin horse through the forest paths until he reached the capital. There, beneath the cover of silence, he was brought into the royal palace (Elarion).
He knelt before the king and queen.
"My liege," he whispered, his hands shaking as he bowed low. "I bring you tidings from House Duskbane. The youngest daughter… she has changed."
The king leaned forward, his crown heavy with jewels, his eyes sharp with hunger. "Changed? Speak plainly."
And so the physician spoke of me. He described how my powerless body had been remade. How my hair turned white, how my eyes carried the marks of gods, how tattoos twisted across my skin. "Three gods," he said, his voice trembling. "Death. Life. Music. She has contracted all three."
The queen gasped, her hand pressed to her jewelled chest.
The eldest princess leaned forward, her lips curving into a smile. "Impossible," she said softly, though her eyes glittered. "And yet, if it is true…"
The younger princess tilted her head, her golden earrings catching the candlelight. "If it is true, then she cannot be left to her own family. She must be brought here, under the protection of the crown."
The crown prince said nothing at first. He sat tall in his chair, his dark eyes unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice even. "If this girl truly holds such power, she cannot remain unbound. She must be tied to the throne."
The king's smile was slow, thin, and dangerous. "Yes. We will bind her. Through marriage."
The next morning, Caelum met with Father in the dim light of his private study. The fire burned low, shadows stretching long across the shelves of old books and maps.
"She saw him," Caelum said quietly, his arms crossed. "She described him to me. A boy with fire in his eyes, a crown that hovered above him."
Father's face darkened. He poured a cup of wine but did not drink. "She described him."
"The son of the murdered king," Caelum said flatly. "The one no one dares speak of. The one the usurper locked away." For a long moment, only the crackle of fire filled the air.
Finally, Father spoke, his voice low and sharp. "If the gods show her him, then the world will burn when she finds him. Do you understand, Caelum? If she pulls him from the shadows, every kingdom will tremble. And the king who now sits on the throne will not forgive it."
Caelum's jaw tightened. "Then we must decide if we will hide her or help her."
Father's eyes burned with a mixture of fear and pride. "She is my daughter. I will not hand her to vultures. But if she chooses to seek the boy… then the road ahead is steep with blood."
Later, I was told about the boy, even though I had already heard it, I could see everything from where I was, and also hear it, but I didn't tell any of them. I lay in my room with my sisters sprawled across the wide bed beside me. Selene lounged with grapes between her fingers. Diana toyed with a dagger, tossing it lightly from hand to hand. Maris nestled closest, eating cherries and watching me with quiet eyes.
The room smelled sweet from bowls of fruit, the windows thrown open to let in the autumn air. It was then that my father entered, Caelum at his side. Their faces were grave, their eyes heavy with secrets. "Daughters," Father said, his voice even. "There are things you must hear."
We sat up at once, though my sisters tried to mask their curiosity with disdain. I leaned forward, white hair spilling down my shoulders, my strange eyes fixed on him.
He told us then. Of the murdered king. Of the boy who had been hidden away by his uncle, the usurper. Of how his name had been struck from records, his existence erased from songs and tales.
And as he spoke, I knew. The boy I had seen. The boy the gods showed me. It was him. My destiny was already chained to his.
Before I could speak, the horns sounded. We rushed to the windows, my sisters pressing close as we peered out through the glass. The royal convoy had arrived.
Banners of gold and crimson snapped in the wind. Horses clad in silver armour clattered up the long path. At the center rode envoys dressed in silks, their cloaks trailing on the ground, their heads held high with false pride. Behind them rolled carriages overflowing with gifts, chests of jewels, silks spilling like waterfalls, baskets of fruits from far-off lands.
"They come to buy you," Diana muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing.
Selene's lips curved faintly. "Or to chain you."
Maris clutched my hand without speaking, her fingers trembling. Below, in the great hall, my father and Caelum stood outside waiting to receive the envoys. Their postures were rigid, controlled, but I could see the tension in their shoulders even from above.
"The royal family wastes no time," Mother said as the convoy halted.
The lead envoy stepped forward, bowing low but not humbly. His voice rang out. "On behalf of His Majesty the King, His Grace the Crown Prince Alaric, and Their Highnesses the Princesses, we come bearing gifts for Lady Elara Duskbane, favoured of the gods."
My father's face did not move, though his jaw tightened. "The gifts are received."
"And an invitation," the envoy continued, drawing forth the scroll with crimson wax. "Lady Elara is to accompany Crown Prince Alaric to the Grand Ball. She will be his honoured guest."
From above, I watched with stillness. My sisters leaned close, their whispers sharp in my ears.
"They mean to claim you," Selene murmured."They will not stop," Diana hissed."They are already afraid of you," Maris whispered, her voice trembling.
I stared at the convoy, at the glittering gifts, at the heavy weight of the scroll. The royal family wanted to bind me to their throne.
But I had seen another crown. And I knew already that their chains would not hold me.