Queen Dalia of Hittities slung lazily on a wooden merry-go swing in the royal garden, legs hooked over the edge, the slow creak of the ropes the only sound accompanying the pale hush of the morning. A white rose twirled between her fingers, flawless, delicate, and cold, just like her. Though the chill bit at the air, it didn't touch her. Her breath didn't fog, and no goosebumps marked her skin. The cold had long stopped being her enemy.
Aldo stood beside her, one hand on the swing's rope, the other holding a parchment scrawled with updates. His voice was low but steady, like a loyal shadow.
"The king of Shem sent a raven," Aldo began, pushing the swing gently as Dalia leaned her head back to look at the grey sky. "He demands the return of his son… again. Their alliance with Hivites seems to have ended. Rumor is they've cut off the water supply completely."
Dalia's smile deepened, not out of joy, but from something colder. "Good," she murmured, brushing a rose petal free. "The boy is learning well. And what of the other kingdoms?"
"They're falling in line. A few still play neutral. The new recruits… they're progressing. A few show signs of summoning already. We've begun restocking, grain, firewood, water. Winter won't catch us unarmed."
The wind picked up, tossing her curls and scattering a few rose petals at her feet as her eyes narrowed her eyes toward the horizon.
"Let's see, dear brother," she whispered with venomous calm, "how you and your precious people survive this winter."
***
Lord Hugh's manor was tense as Lord Cassian had come, unannounced, demanding to see his betrothed.
The maids whispered. The guards stiffened. The air itself felt uneasy.
"What's he doing here," one murmured.
Lord Hugh stood in the hallway, face stone-cold as Cassian approached with that ever-present smirk.
"You are not welcome here," Hugh said sharply.
Cassian's eyes flicked around, unimpressed. "And yet, here I am."
"The engagement does not give you reign over my house."
"No," Cassian said, voice like a blade, "but the king's seal does."
Lord Hugh's nostrils flared. Before he could speak again, a maid stepped in.
"My Lord… Lady Ixora says she will receive him."
Cassian turned, smug. "Of course she will." Then to Hugh, a smirk: "After all, she knows where her future lies."
Hugh didn't answer, only watched with a burning gaze as Cassian made his way inside.
Lady Ixora descended the staircase slowly, her floral gown swaying with each step, petals of embroidered silk brushing against her ankles. She looked every bit the noble daughter, delicate, poised, and utterly annoyed.
Cassian's eyes flicked up, slow and assessing. "Charming as ever, my lady."
"Lord Cassian," she said with a cool nod, her tone polite but hollow.
He extended his arm. "I thought we'd take a stroll through the city. See what the common folk chatter about. It's good for a future Lady of Cassian to be… seen."
Before Ixora could respond, her father cut in.
"She is not going anywhere with you."
Cassian didn't even look at Lord Hugh. "I'll return her," he said casually.
Ixora's eyes narrowed, and Lord Hugh's jaw clenched.
"Treat her like property again," Hugh warned, "and even the king's seal won't protect you."
Cassian only smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it."
He turned to Ixora with mock gallantry. "Shall we?"
With a reluctant breath and a sideways glance at her father, Ixora took his arm, her fingers like ice.
They arrived at The Gilded Promenade, a refined stretch within the heart of Hivites, a place known for its artisan shops, crystal chandeliers hanging from wrought-iron arches, perfume vendors, and gold-threaded canopies shading polished stone benches. Nobles strolled with parasols and velvet gloves, exchanging gossip over candied fruits and brewed petals.
Cassian led her through the bustling yet elegant walkways, holding her arm like a prized relic, making sure everyone saw them.
Ixora kept her chin high, face unreadable. But inside, her thoughts were a whirlwind. Every glance from him felt like a display. Every smile was too wide, too practiced.
"You're quiet," he said, pausing to pick a sugared rose petal candy from a vendor.
"Maybe I don't find the company that entertaining," she replied sweetly.
He smirked, unfazed. "You'll get used to me."
"I doubt it."
The only reason she had agreed to the calling was to save her father's face, after all, he was a Lord, and it was her duty to the crown, no matter how bitter it tasted.
Cassian popped the candy into his mouth and chewed slowly, watching her.
"You really think your father can keep you from marrying me?" he asked, voice low and casual.
Ixora didn't answer. She simply turned away, staring at a gold brooch behind a glass window, hiding the tremble in her hands.
As they walked past the bustling square, Cassian leaned in, his voice smooth like poisoned wine.
"Our union will be good for the realm," he said, eyes raking over her. "Noble sons with your looks and my mind… when the cure for barrenness is found, of course. And with Lord Hugh's lands added to mine, well, we'd be unstoppable."
Ixora was chafed. He didn't even try to hide it. To him, she wasn't a bride, just a pawn—But he was wrong—terribly wrong. She would never let him claim what wasn't his.
Ixora's eyes narrowed slightly. "You may marry me, Lord Cassian," she said coolly, "but you will never inherit my father's lands. That legacy isn't yours to touch."
Before he could mask the flicker of irritation in his eyes, she dipped her head in a mocking curtsy. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've had enough of pretending."
She turned and walked away with her head held high. How dare he presume she would bear his heirs as if she were a mere vessel! How dare he mock her, treating her like a possession! Though her mother was nothing but a concubine, she would never accept such a fate for herself. She refused to be just another token in a man's game. She longed to be seen, heard, and loved for who she was. She wouldn't marry for duty or duty alone. With fierce determination, she vowed to fight for her voice, her freedom, and her rightful place.