"We carry the ghosts of the places we are not allowed to belong."— Ella the Silvertongued Princess
Dove.
The days blurred into each other, thick as the steam that drifted endlessly from the hot springs.
It had been at least a week, maybe longer, lying here under the careful watch of Raven.She sat at my side most days, weaving little braids into her own hair, humming songs so soft they almost sounded like the water itself.
She smiled more now.Laughed easier.Exhaled without that brittle edge she'd carried the night I first woke screaming.
Today, she dared to ask more.
"Dove," she said cautiously, tracing idle patterns across the blanket covering my legs, "where are you from?"
I smiled — a brittle thing, all splinters and sadness.
"Nowhere anymore," I said, my voice hollow in the humid air. "It's all burnt to the ground."
A half-truth.The safest kind of lie.
Raven's face fell slightly, but she caught herself.She tucked her leg under her with a small grunt of pain and offered instead, "I'm from the Emerald Isles."
There was something in her tone — a pride that hadn't been entirely broken yet.
"I've been to the Emerald Court once," I said softly, staring up at the fractured light spilling through the mosaic ceiling.Twice, if I was honest.But the memories tangled together now — one bright, one bitter.
I closed my eyes and let the tide of memory pull me under.
--
Dove, age 7.
The water glittered around us, alive and laughing, as our boat cut its way through the lagoon.
Beside me, Cecilia leaned out over the rail, her golden hair whipping in the sea breeze.Mother stood behind her, elegant fingers combing lovingly through her curls.
I edged closer, desperate to share the warmth of that touch.
But Mother's hands never strayed to me.
I clutched the railing tighter, fighting the hollow ache that had already begun to grow in my chest even then.
The castle loomed ahead, rising like jagged green teeth from the sea. Jade spires crowned in silver mist.
I quivered with excitement.The Emerald Court.
Father's arms swept me up suddenly, warm and safe.
"We're almost there, sweet girl," he said, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Will I really get to meet my new brother?" I chirped, bouncing in his arms.
Father chuckled, a deep sound that made my heart soar."Sweet girl," he said, "we're here to introduce Cecilia to her betrothed."
I pouted, confused.
"Doesn't that make him my brother too?"
Father only smiled and pointed skyward, steering my gaze to where a great white dragon glided above the castle towers, its wings gleaming like pearls in the sun.
"Look," he whispered. "Wild things. They don't belong to anyone."
I watched, wide-eyed, as the dragon soared higher, shrinking into the clouds.Gone before we even touched the shore.
I wanted to call it back.To keep it.But the dragon didn't belong to me.
Neither did the boy waiting at the dock.
The docks were swept clean for our arrival, gleaming black glass meeting the golden sand.
A procession stood waiting: women in sea-green silks, men with weathered skin and sharp, intelligent eyes.Their hair was darker than ours, their eyes gleaming shades of blue and silver.
The boy — Cecilia's betrothed — was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.His hair shone like black glass, his eyes a pale, shattering blue.He wore a tunic the colour of young leaves, cinched with a simple leather belt.
As our boat bumped gently against the dock, my heart leapt with something fierce and yearning.
I scrambled to follow Cecilia forward — to meet him too — but Father's strong hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"Stay behind, sweet girl," he murmured. "Where they won't see you."
I shrank back, the words slicing through me sharper than any blade.
At the end of the dock, Cecilia's small hand disappeared into Francesco's.
Their eyes met, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
I watched from the shadows behind my family.
Unseen.Unclaimed.And for the first time, I understood:
Some things were never meant for me.
Not dragons.Not brothers.Not belonging.
--
Dove.
I blinked back to the present — to the cracked ceiling and the steam and the damp ache burrowed deep in my bones.
Raven watched me quietly, sensing the shift in my mood.
She didn't ask again.
She only offered me a piece of bread wrapped in cloth, warm from the kitchens, and a cup of thin, honeyed tea.
I took them both with shaking hands.
In the Aviary, you learned quickly:
Some hungers would never be fed.
And some cages you carried inside yourself, no matter how far you ran.