Chapter Nine
The palace shimmered with candlelight, chandeliers scattering diamonds across marble floors. Music floated through gilded corridors, laughter blending with the rustle of silk and the clink of silverware. Courtiers swirled in practiced patterns, while servants moved like shadows, attending to every need. Tonight, the palace celebrated not just my approaching birthday, but the presence of esteemed guests—nobles and emissaries from neighboring kingdoms.
I moved along the shadowed walls, cloak brushing the marble, senses alert. My hands trembled faintly beneath my sleeves; the warmth beneath my skin pulsed, restless, whispering that it would awaken fully soon. I had to learn to control it, to master it, before I was forced into a destiny not my own.
Earlier, while making my way to one of the hidden chambers to gather information, I overheard a conversation meant for no ears but my own. My mother's voice trembled with pleading.
"…it is her eighteenth year," she said softly. "And yet you would send her away? She is still so young. She cannot be bound to a life she does not choose."
My father's reply was calm, sharp, a steel edge beneath politeness. "The kingdom requires alliances. I will not risk another war. If I must sacrifice my own desire to secure peace, then I will. She will understand in time."
I pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering. Even these few words revealed the cruel truth: I was to be offered as a pawn, my life dictated by politics and alliances.
Then, the voices of the elders and witches—the advisers my father trusted—joined in, low and conspiratorial.
"Her education, her presentation… it must be flawless," one murmured. "The alliance will succeed only if she is ready to fulfill the expectations laid upon her."
Another added, sly and cold, "She will be guided. She will be molded. Every gesture, every choice, even her thoughts, can be shaped for the future we see."
I swallowed hard, trembling, unsure whether to feel rage or fear. They were planning my life without my consent, molding me for a future I did not want. Yet I did not hear the exact date, nor did they speak of my eighteenth birthday. Still, it was enough. Their intentions were clear.
I retreated to my chambers, chest tight, hands trembling faintly with the warmth beneath my skin. I dressed for the ball in a gown of muted silver, shimmering under candlelight but practical enough to allow movement. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity—not for celebration, not for diplomacy, but for action. Everyone's attention would be on the ballroom, on the guests, on the music. Tonight, I would slip away, leave the city, and seek the building described in the ancient scrolls. Perhaps there, I could find the Guardian, or at least the knowledge I so desperately needed.
The music began to swell as I stepped onto the balcony overlooking the great hall. The ballroom was alive with laughter, conversation, and the shimmer of silks and jewels. Guests from distant cities and kingdoms mingled, their polite bows and cordial smiles masking ambition and hidden agendas.
Among them, I noticed a group of princes, each handsome in his own right, moving with poise and ease. Then, our eyes met.
He stood among the others, yet he seemed different—taller, poised, radiating a quiet intensity that made him impossible to ignore. When he glanced upward, I felt as if the world had narrowed to the space between us. For a heartbeat, neither of us looked away, caught in the gravity of that gaze. My pulse quickened, warmth rising faintly beneath my skin, though I reminded myself that I did not even know if he was the one my father intended for me.
And yet… I could not deny the strange pull, the curiosity, the instant fascination. His presence stirred something within me, a flicker I had never felt before, a spark that whispered dangerously of distraction.
I shook my head subtly, forcing the thought away. This was not the time for attraction. Not now. My purpose, my destiny, my power—they were far more important than a prince or a fleeting glance. I pressed my hands lightly to the railing, feeling the faint warmth pulse beneath my skin, and let my gaze shift from him to the swirling crowd below.
The ballroom, the guests, my father, my mother, Lady Mireya's plotting—all of it faded into the background of my planning. I memorized guard patrols, mapped escape routes in my mind, and calculated the precise moment when I would step into the shadows and beyond the city walls.
The warmth beneath my skin pulsed again, insistent, as if urging me forward. I clenched my fists, forcing control, allowing only a faint shimmer to escape, careful not to draw attention. Soon, I would turn eighteen, and soon my power would awaken fully. Tonight, I had to test restraint, precision, and cunning. Tonight, I had to ensure I could move freely and survive without interference.
Every step, every observation, every careful glance was part of the plan. The building described in the scrolls waited somewhere beyond the city walls, unremarkable from the outside yet unmistakable to me from ancient descriptions. Inside, I hoped to find the Guardian—or at least the means to master my power, to uncover the truths that could protect the kingdom and thwart Lady Mireya's child.
The night stretched before me, full of uncertainty and danger, but also promise. Soon, my power would awaken fully, and no one—neither palace nor prince nor conspirator—would be able to ignore it. But tonight, I would move with purpose, with focus, with intention. Tonight, I would take the first step toward mastering the gift that had always been mine.
The ball continued below, music and laughter masking my plotting. Outside, the streets were silent, lanterns flickering weakly, guards moving predictably along their patrols. All of it—every obstacle, every danger—was something I had considered, something I could navigate. I would not be bound. I would not be sent away blindly.
Tonight, I had chosen.
Tonight, I would no longer wait.