The soft sound of the violin filled the room, its melodious notes drifting through the air like whispers of a distant memory. Dastan stood in the center, clad in a crisp white shirt paired with bright pants and a fur cape draping down his left shoulder, exuding an otherworldly aura. The room itself was bathed in a warm glow, the soft flicker of candlelight casting dancing shadows on the walls.
As they awaited Noori's arrival for their practice session, Dastan's impatience grew palpable. He glanced at the ornate clock on the wall, its hands ticking away the moments with agonizing slowness. The delay was beginning to annoy him, as he was eager to depart for The Mourning Place, where he had made reservations with Silvia. The anticipation of their meeting weighed heavily on his mind, fueling his eagerness to leave.
"Do I have to wait all day?" Dastan's voice carried a hint of impatience as he turned to the guard beside him, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. The guard bowed his head respectfully before responding, "The Princess will be here in no time," he assured, his tone calm and reassuring.
Just as the guard finished speaking, the grand doors swung open, and Noori's figure emerged from within. She was a vision in crimson velvet, the luxurious fabric hugging her strong frame with regal elegance. Adorning her neckline was an array of elegant jewellery, each piece shimmering under the soft glow of the palace lights. Atop her head sat a dazzling crown, its intricate design complementing the intricate braids that adorned her hair.
With a touch of light makeup accentuating her features and a bold red lipstick adding a hint of allure, Noori exuded a captivating presence. Dastan couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty as his gaze lingered on her, the frown that had once etched his features melting away in her presence.
"My apologies for making you wait. I had matters to manage at the Oseris palace, so it took me longer than anticipated," Noori explained in her casual, hoarse voice.
"Hmm," Dastan responded with a brief nod. The music, which had momentarily ceased, resumed its melodious tune as the choreographer stepped in. "Now that both of you are here, let's start the preparations," he announced, casting a curious glance at Noori. He hadn't expected the fierce Minister General to appear as she did in person. To him, Noori was akin to a fierce beast with claws and fangs, yet in reality, she was quite different—a strikingly unconventional beauty though she looked tough that didn't steal from her appearance, .
She stood out from the delicate Solayrian beauties, who were often portrayed as fragile and soft-spoken, akin to delicate flowers. However, Noori embodied a different kind of beauty. If he were to compare her to a flower, she would resemble the rare Rossilia Rose, a fiery blossom capable of withstanding any winter, that only bloomed in the Duke's Estate that was situated on the peak of the Rossillia hill.
"Get into your positions," the choreographer instructed, clapping his hands for attention. Dastan and Noori stood opposite each other, the silence stretching between them thicker than the air itself.
Noori extended her hand first. It wasn't tentative — it was confident, practiced, almost instinctive. Dastan hesitated before taking it, his grip uncertain as his other hand came to rest around her waist. Their eyes met, the air between them charged with the same awkward tension that had followed them since morning.
"Please, act more naturally," the choreographer said with exasperation. "You can't convince anyone if you look like you're waiting to be executed."
Dastan exhaled sharply, trying to loosen the stiffness in his shoulders. The melody began — soft, haunting, the kind that carried old memories from forgotten times. The rhythm was slow, ceremonial, every step meant to symbolize devotion and unity. It was the Solyrian Vareen, a dance once performed only between bonded souls before the gods.
"One, two, three… one, two, three…" the choreographer murmured, pacing around them.
Dastan followed the count, guiding Noori's steps clumsily at first. But then, something shifted. Noori's body began to move with perfect timing — not just following the rhythm but anticipating it. Her turns were flawless, her hands tracing the air with deliberate precision, her posture aligned exactly as the old songs described.
He faltered mid-step. "You… you've done this before."
Noori didn't answer immediately and then missed one beat. "What do you mean? i just learned it." she gave him a plain look. Dastan was not convinced, especially becasue the traditonal dance was not soemthing one could learn just by seeing it one time.
The choreographer clapped his hands, delighted. "Wonderful!"
Dastan barely heard him. He couldn't tear his gaze from her, But she wasn't from Solyria. She wasn't supposed to know any of this.
When the music ended, she stilled gracefully while he remained rooted in place, staring at her as if trying to solve a puzzle that shouldn't exist.
This time, Noori was the first to stop. Her body froze mid-turn, eyes fixed on the doorway. Dastan, still holding her hand, felt her go still and turned instinctively.
A woman stood framed in the entrance — tall, poised, her long dark-blue hair spilling over her shoulders like a shadowed river. Her eyes, sharp and glacial, mirrored the same shade — the same piercing hue Noori had once known too well. For a moment, Noori forgot to breathe. The resemblance wasn't just uncanny; it was unnerving. The tilt of her head, the faint curve of her lips, even the way she held herself carried a familiarity that shouldn't exist here.
Dastan noticed the sudden shift in Noori's composure. Her shoulders had tensed, and something unreadable flickered in her gaze — sorrow laced with something colder. Fear, perhaps. His pulse quickened as he followed her stare and recognized the intruder.
Silvia.
She stood at the threshold, watching them with a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
The realization struck Dastan so abruptly that he released Noori's hand as though it burned him. He took a step back, guilt tightening in his chest though he didn't know why.
"Greetings to the royal couple," Silvia said smoothly, her voice slicing through the silence. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt your lesson. I wasn't aware anyone else was using the hall."
Her gaze slid toward Noori, slow and deliberate, studying her from head to toe before returning to Dastan as if weighing the room itself.
"It's all right," Dastan replied, struggling to sound unaffected. "We were just practicing for the banquet. What brings you here?"
Silvia offered a polite bow of her head. "The Queen asked me to attend today's practice. But I wouldn't want to intrude."
"No need," Dastan said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "You can join us."
Silvia blinked, feigning surprise. "I can?" Her eyes flickered to Noori. "Then, before we begin, I should properly introduce myself to your wife."
Something about her tone made the air tighten. Noori stood very still as Silvia approached.
"Your Highness," Silvia began, her voice laced with an almost mocking grace, "I am Silvia Silver, daughter of Duke Farris Silver." Her eyes locked with Noori's, the words carrying a quiet weight that no one else in the room could decipher.
Noori's expression didn't change, though her fingers twitched at her side. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Silvia. I am Noori Azar Solana, Princess of Nuria." Her tone was calm — too calm. The tension between them spoke louder than words.
"I've heard quite a lot about you," Silvia replied with a faint, provoking smile.
"I wouldn't be curious to know what you've heard," Noori answered softly.
Dastan glanced between them, a frown creasing his forehead. He could sense something buried beneath their polite exchange — a history neither was willing to name.
"Silvia," he interjected, trying to steer the atmosphere back to neutral, "you mentioned dancing. Do you have a partner?"
Silvia's eyes glinted. "I would love to," she said smoothly, "but only if Her Highness allows it. I wouldn't dare steal someone else's man." Her smile widened as she looked directly at Noori.
Noori stepped aside without hesitation. "Please, go ahead. Enjoy yourself," she said, her voice level and unreadable.
Something dark flickered across Silvia's face — irritation, maybe disappointment — but it vanished as quickly as it came. "Then I will. Thank you for your kindness," she said, stepping closer to Dastan.
Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, fingers almost too familiar, and Dastan felt a strange discomfort rise within him. The air grew heavy, the space around them thick with tension that neither music nor courtesy could mask.
Even the violinist faltered, his bow trembling against the strings as if the melody itself could feel the unease.