When Lord Sylas's smooth voice faded, the hall erupted once more into murmurs and speculative whispers.
Delegates leaned toward one another, their words weaving through the chamber like restless winds.
Some nodded at the suggestion, others frowned, and yet, amidst the uproar, one figure glowed with unrestrained delight.
Lady Calista.
Her face brightened like dawn breaking over dark waters. At last, fate had shifted in her favor. Yes, she thought, her chest tightening with exhilaration. Yes, this is what I have always wanted.
Aurelia had always stolen the light that should have been hers.
Both daughters of Azarion, both born on the same day...yet Calista's birth had been little more than a whisper beside the triumphant celebration of Aurelia's arrival.
She had come into the world scarcely an hour earlier, but what did that matter when Aurelia's mother was the Flame Lord's true wife, while hers was not?
From the very beginning, Aurelia's name was exalted, her presence cherished, while Calista's needs were pushed aside.
It worsened at the age of five, when their fire awakened.
Calista's flames burned the ordinary red and gold of their line, but Aurelia… Aurelia's fire blazed a searing blue, hotter than lightning, fiercer than any seen in generations.
A genius, they called her. The child of fire itself.
And once more, Calista was overshadowed.
Envy had festered, bitter and sharp, until it became part of her very soul.
She remembered the first time she had seen Neris Winterbourne, years ago...a boy already striking, his poise regal, his eyes like shards of winter sky. Her young heart had thudded wildly, and she knew, in that instant, that she wanted him.
But when she tried to draw near, to claim even a sliver of his attention, she found his gaze fixed elsewhere...on Aurelia. Always Aurelia.
Who wouldn't be drawn to her? Calista thought now, her lips curling faintly. Aurelia, with her beauty and brilliance, was adored by all. Even by the one Calista longed for.
When news came of their betrothal, she had wept until her chest burned raw. She could still recall her mother Isadora's soft, sharp words that day as she stroked her daughter's hair.
"Do not cry, my beautiful child. What is meant for you will return to you, but only if you are willing to fight for it. If you falter, if you give up… then you lose everything."
It was a lesson Calista had never forgotten. She and her mother had done much...more than anyone knew...to secure her place. And now, at long last, the tide had turned.
The Calestarch, Orien Valehart, rose from his seat, his voice deep and calm, a current guiding the chamber back to order. His golden robes shimmered faintly in the torchlight.
"Lord Neris Winterbourne," he addressed, his gaze steady on the young lord, "do you take issue with the suggestion? Would you accept Lady Calista Flameborne in marriage, to preserve the oath and the peace between North and South?"
A hush fell.
All eyes shifted to Neris. He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he regarded Calista.
She was beautiful, undeniably so...the same red hair, the same proud features as Aurelia, but without the spark that had once drawn him.
His mind flickered back to Aurelia as he had known her before: radiant, fierce, untouchable.
Then his gaze moved, unbidden, to her now, her face marred by the cruel curse, her head bowed in shame. Pain stabbed his chest, though he kept his expression carefully schooled.
Slowly, he drew in a breath, and his decision fell from his lips.
"No. I have no issues."
Aurelia's breath caught. The words pierced her heart deeper than any blade.
Tears welled and spilled silently down her cheeks. Never had she felt so small, so unworthy, so discarded.
Across from her, Calista's lips curved upward into a smug, satisfied smile. Her eyes met Aurelia's, gleaming with triumph, as if to say, I have won at last.
The Calestarch turned then to Lord Azarion, his voice calm, but weighted with authority.
"Lord Flameborne, the logic holds. The peace between North and South has long rested upon marriage ties. You have two daughters. Lord Neris has agreed to honor the oath with your second. Will you, then, accept the exchange?"
The hall seemed to lean forward collectively, waiting for his reply.
Azarion's face was stone. His heart thundered in his chest, not from hesitation, but from fury.
He knew the truth none of them did...the prophecy. It could only be Aurelia. Only her blood, woven of all five nations, could fulfill it. Calista was useless to him, a pawn of no worth in the greater scheme.
"No," he said flatly.
The chamber erupted in disbelief, voices rising in outrage, confusion, and shock.
Orien Valehart lifted a hand for silence, his eyes narrowing. "Why not, Lord Flameborne? You yourself declared that the alliance rests upon marriage. Why, then, do you refuse?"
Azarion's mind raced. He could not speak of the prophecy. He needed another reason, one that would sway hearts and draw sympathy.
His eyes narrowed, and he spoke with the sharp edge of righteousness.
"And what of Aurelia? What becomes of her if her sister is wed in her place? Have you considered that? Already her reputation lies in tatters after this mockery of a trial.
She will be mocked, ridiculed, her life destroyed before it has even begun. And if her sister is given to the man she was once betrothed to..." He swept a hand toward Calista, his voice rising.
"...then Aurelia will be left with nothing but shame. Is that the justice of this council?"
A hush fell again. The weight of his words struck Aurelia like stones. Every gaze turned upon her, pity mingling with disdain. She kept her head bowed, her tears falling freely now, her body trembling.
Neris's face tightened, a flicker of conflict shadowing his otherwise cold composure. He knew Azarion was right. Aurelia's life after today would not be an easy one. The thought unsettled him, though he crushed it quickly.
Then, into the silence, came a voice...clear, young, but brimming with conviction.
"You do not need to fear for Lady Aurelia, Lord Flameborne."
Heads turned sharply. A boy stepped forward from where he had been standing behind his father.... Vaelric.
He stood straight-backed, proud, his resemblance to his father unmistakable. His blonde hair caught the torchlight, and his blue-gray eyes shone with determination far older than his years.
"The safety and future of Lady Aurelia will not be abandoned," he declared, his voice steady and strong.
"She will be under the protection of my father...Valerian Stormborne, Lord of Virelia and Warden of Valkoron!"
Gasps swept through the chamber. Whispers hissed like fire through dry grass. All eyes turned to Valerian, whose stern face betrayed nothing.
But Azarion… Azarion stiffened, shock and fury colliding within him. His hand tightened into a fist. Of all the men to claim Aurelia's protection, it had to be Valerian Stormborne.
The hall trembled with the weight of revelation, and for the first time that day, it was Azarion who faltered.