The great hall of Lumeris was illuminated in gold and candlelight, the ceiling shimmering with banners that swayed gently in the warm air. Musicians played in the corner, their strings and flutes weaving a gentle melody over the low hum of conversation.
At the head of the banquet table, King Cidolfus rose from his seat. A hush fell across the hall as he lifted his goblet, his voice carrying with the weight of a ruler and the warmth of a father.
"Tonight," he began, "we gather not merely to feast, but to mark the turning of a page in our kingdom's story. My daughter, Midadol, comes of age thirteen years into this world, thirteen years under the light of Lumeris's sun. May she continue to grow in wisdom, grace, and courage… and may her heart ever remain as bright as the crown she shall one day bear."
A cheer rippled through the crowd. Midadol, seated to his right, offered a polite smile to the hall, though her eyes flicked briefly to her left, where Sylas stood at his post, just a pace behind her chair. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, his eyes scanning the crowd with a soldier's discipline, but she noticed the glint of something new at his hip.
The Queen rose next, her goblet in hand. Her voice was soft yet commanding, the kind that could still be a restless hall without effort.
"To my daughter," Queen Benedikta said. "May you always know the worth of your own heart. May the friends you keep be steadfast, and may your heart guide you down the path you were destined for."
The toast was met with warm applause and the clinking of cups. Then, as the music shifted to a lilting waltz, King Cidolfus offered his hand to Midadol.
"Come, my daughter," he said, smiling. "Let us dance."
She rose gracefully, placing her hand in his, and together they stepped onto the open floor. Nobles cleared space, watching as father and daughter moved in time to the music, his steps steady, hers light and sure. Laughter escaped her once or twice as he spun her, the sight drawing smiles from all who watched.
Sylas remained nearby, his gaze never leaving them, though his mind wandered briefly. She looked happy, radiant, even and he felt an odd mix of pride and something else he could not quite name.
When the final notes faded, applause swelled once more. Midadol curtsied to her father, cheeks flushed, and he bowed in turn before leading her back toward the table. But before they reached it, she touched his arm and murmured something softly. He nodded, letting her go.
She turned toward the tall glass doors that led to the balcony, her gown brushing softly over the marble. Sylas noticed instantly. Without a word, he slipped through the crowd, following at a respectful distance.
The cool night air met them beyond the doors, carrying the scent of summer flowers from the castle gardens below. Stars glittered across the velvet sky, and lanterns glowed faintly against the stone walls.
Midadol stood at the railing, hands resting lightly on the carved balustrade. She did not turn when she heard him approach, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
"I was wondering how long it would take you," she said.
"You should not be out here alone, my lady," Sylas replied.
"Oh? Are the stars a danger to me now?" she teased, glancing back at him. "Or were you afraid someone might spirit me away in the middle of my own birthday feast?"
He didn't answer that, only shifted his weight slightly.
Her eyes swept over him, the lamplight catching the polished lines of his uniform.
"You clean up well, you know," she said, a playful lilt in her tone. "If I hadn't known better, I might have mistaken you for a prince this evening."
Sylas blinked, unsure how to take the compliment. "I… thank you, my lady."
She laughed softly. "There it is again—my lady. You've called me that since we were children."
"I call the princess of Lumeris what she deserves to be called," he said, entirely earnest.
Her smile softened. "You're always so serious."
"I have to be," he replied. "Starting tomorrow, I'll be your personal guard on my own."
"You've always been guarding me," she murmured. "Even before it was your duty."
For a moment, the night seemed still around them. Then Sylas reached into his coat and withdrew a small velvet-lined box. There was hesitation in his movement, a flicker of doubt.
"I… know it's not much," he said quietly. "But I wanted to give you something."
She opened it slowly. Inside lay a delicate silver necklace shaped like an alstroemeria blossom. Her breath caught.
"You remembered…"
"I wasn't sure if it was right," he admitted. "You're royalty, and it's… simple. I thought perhaps…"
"It's perfect," she said, her voice warm.
He stepped closer, taking the necklace and moving behind her to clasp it around her neck. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin, and the pendant settled against her collarbone.
When he stepped back, she turned, her eyes lingering on him.
"You may be hopeless with words, Sylas Falcrest," she said softly, "but you have a good heart."
He blinked. "Hopeless?"
She only smiled and turned back toward the stars, fingertips brushing the pendant.
"Thank you," she said again, more quietly this time.
The moment broke when a low, distant rumble shuddered through the night air.
It wasn't thunder. The sound was heavier, closer, followed by the faint, unnatural glow of fire on the horizon.
Sylas stiffened. "Stay behind me," he said at once.
Before Midadol could reply, the first scream pierced the air from within the hall. Then came another, and another, swelling into chaos. The music inside had stopped entirely, replaced by the crash of splintering wood and the deep, echoing screams.
The balcony doors burst open. Sir Aldric stormed through, his sword already drawn, his voice a sharp command.
"Sylas! On guard!"
The hall beyond was chaos. Smoke drifted along the ceiling. Guests were scrambling away from shattered windows where black cloaked figures were pouring in faces masked, foreign weapons drawn, their movements swift and coordinated.
King Cidolfus had already gotten behind Sir Aldric, who was fending off two attackers at once. Queen Benedikta was being shielded by knights, but the enemy pressed hard, their numbers growing.
Sir Aldric's voice cut through the din. "Protect her, Sylas! No matter what, do not let her fall into their hands!"
Sylas didn't hesitate. Grabbing Midadol's wrist, he pulled her toward a narrow door concealed behind a tapestry.
"This way!"
They slipped through into darkness, the sounds of battle muffled but still following behind them. The air in the hidden passage was cold and stale, the stone walls close enough to brush his shoulders as they ran.
The training yard felt a lifetime away now every lesson boiling down to this moment.
And somewhere, deep in the pit of his stomach, he knew
This was only the beginning.