It had been a week since Xandria moved into the palace. She had yet to adjust to the constant bowing and greeting of the maids and soldiers, the ever-present formality that clung to the walls like a suffocating fog. No one dared to speak to her unless it was required by their position. No one wanted to be friendly. Except Anaya.
Xandria lay wide awake on her bed, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting shadows that twisted and swayed like ghosts. Her mind was restless, as it had been every night since her arrival. Another dream. And this one was unlike the others. She saw a statue — a statue so familiar, so close. She couldn't ignore it. She had to find it.
She slipped out of bed, still in her nightclothes, and wrapped her robe around herself, securing it with the rope. She picked up a candle from her bedside, its flame flickering weakly. She needed to see the statue. It had been a constant in her dreams. Perhaps it held a deeper meaning, something she had yet to understand.
She crept out of her room, careful not to disturb Maltherion, who was in the room next door. Though they hadn't spoken much in the past week, the shared meals — breakfast and the occasional dinner — were the only times their paths had crossed. The rest of the time, he was busy. In court. Out of town. Always somewhere else.
With the flickering candle in her hand, she wandered the dark hallways, her footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone. She reached the staircase and ascended it carefully, the familiar path up to the roof. She had discovered this place once, while wandering the palace. The door to the roof was unlocked.
As she opened it, a sharp gasp escaped her lips. There, standing near the edge of the roof, was a lone figure — Maltherion. The moonlight glinted off the edges of his dark cloak, making him appear almost ethereal, like a creature made of shadow and light.
Just as she began to turn back, unsure whether to flee or confront him, his voice cut through the silence. "Where are you going?"
She froze, candlelight casting long shadows over her face as the flame sputtered out. She stood there, heart pounding in her chest, the cool wind whispering around her. "Your majesty," she greeted, her voice more mocking than she intended.
"Come forward," he called, and though his tone wasn't commanding, Xandria felt an undeniable pull. She couldn't resist. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped toward him, her feet feeling as though they were moving of their own accord.
She stopped just in front of him, her breath visible in the cool night air. "What are you doing here?"
He turned to face her, and in the dim light, his red eyes seemed to glow, his expression unreadable. "The same reason you are here," he said simply.
Xandria's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You had a dream," he stated, his voice steady. "About this statue."
Xandria's gaze followed his outstretched arm, landing on the statue standing tall before them. It wasn't like the other statues in the palace — not the gargoyles, not the beasts. No, this one was different. Perched on the highest point of the roof, its features were almost human, but strange. A solemn figure draped in stone, neither man nor beast. Its arms were outstretched, as if offering or surrendering to something unseen.
"Do you see it?" Maltherion continued, his voice low and soft, almost reverent. "The statue is of the Grand Gias. No one remembers who sculpted it, nor when it was placed. But it has always been part of the palace skyline."
Xandria stared at it, the unease in her chest growing. She knew this statue. She knew it from her dreams. The warmth, the pull toward it, it was all there — just as it had been in the visions.
"Legend says that during certain nights, when the moon is full and the stars burn bright, the statue glows with a golden hue," Maltherion continued. "Just for a moment, before it fades away."
Xandria shivered, her thoughts spinning. "Why am I here?" she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Why does it call to me?"
Maltherion's gaze softened, a strange intensity in his red eyes. "Because you are destined to stand here, with me. You are my queen."
The words struck Xandria like a blow, and she took a shaky step back, her pulse quickening. She had felt the pull in her dreams, the strange connection to him, but hearing it spoken out loud was different.
"I've had the same dream every night for the past week," Xandria whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the revelation. She didn't want to say it, but it had to be said. "About this statue. I felt... something pulling me toward it. But all I could see was you."
Maltherion was silent for a moment, his red eyes searching hers as though weighing something unspoken. "Don't you get it, Xandria?" he asked, his voice quiet but certain. "You are my queen."
She stood frozen, staring up at him as the reality of her words began to sink in. The dreams. The connection. The statue. All of it led her here, to this moment, standing before the man who was not just a king — but something else entirely.
"It's not about being your queen," she said, her voice shaking now, raw with emotion. "It's about what I want. I never wanted this life, Maltherion. I didn't choose this."
Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden, and she cried out for the first time, the weight of it all coming crashing down on her. "I don't want to be tied to this destiny. I never asked for it."
Maltherion moved toward her, his arms reaching out, pulling her closer. She didn't resist as her face pressed against his chest, her body trembling from the intensity of her feelings. "I had no choice, Xandria," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "From the moment I saw you, I felt it — the pull, the connection. I tried to resist, but it was impossible."
"I don't think I can be a good queen," she said softly, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She hesitated before saying his name. "Maltherion."
His name felt different now, as if it was meant for her to say. It slipped past her lips with a sweetness she hadn't expected, and in that moment, she realized how much it affected her.
"You are destined to be the queen of Alderyn," Maltherion said, his voice steady. "No one can take that from you."
Xandria remained in his embrace, the warmth of his body wrapping around her like a shield. It felt different now — warmer than before, more intense. It was the same warmth she had felt in her dreams, the power that made her hesitate, that made her question everything.
Her heart was torn, the questions swirling in her mind. What is he? The question that had haunted her for years, the one that no one had ever answered. What was the king truly?
She pulled away just slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Maltherion... what are you? What is the king?"
But before he could answer, the night stretched on, the weight of their bond pressing in on her chest, heavy and unavoidable.
And Xandria, for the first time, wasn't sure she wanted the answer.