The night before the royal banquet shimmered with restless anticipation across the Ariann Kingdom.
Elena sat by the wide window of her chamber, her chin resting lightly against her palm as she stared out into the sea of glittering lights that made up the capital city. The kingdom was one of the three greatest powers in the known world, advanced enough that airships hovered in the skies like watchful birds and tall glass towers stretched toward the heavens, yet ancient enough that its throne was still held by bloodline and prophecy.
She brushed back a strand of her soft raven hair, her delicate features illuminated by the glow of the neon lamps outside. It wasn't vanity to admit she was beautiful—her beauty was a fact. Even her detractors whispered it. Large doe-like eyes the color of twilight, lips like rose petals, and a quiet grace that followed her whether she walked through crowded marketplaces or noble courts.
But it wasn't her beauty that weighed on her heart.
It was the prophecy.
The prophecy spoken generations ago by the last Oracle. A child shall be born beneath the twin stars, a daughter who will shape the fates of kingdoms and awaken powers unseen since the ancient dawn.
Elena had been that child.
For seventeen years, the title clung to her like a cloak she couldn't shed—the Child of Prophecy. Wherever she went, people bowed in reverence or stared with expectation. She was a symbol, not just a person. And tomorrow, she was to be presented formally to the royal court, where her betrothal to the First Prince of Ariann would be announced.
A quiet knock broke her thoughts.
"Elena! Are you daydreaming again?"
The door creaked open and a girl her age slipped in, her cheeks flushed from the cool night air. Her name was Lira, daughter of a minor duke, known for her sharp tongue and brighter wit. Behind her trailed another companion, softer in presence, with warm brown eyes that seemed to drink in everything—Selene, Elena's handmaiden since childhood.
Lira plopped onto the edge of Elena's bed without hesitation. "Don't tell me you're sulking on a night like this. Tomorrow, you'll meet all ten princes of Ariann at once. Some girls would sell their dowries just to attend a banquet like that."
Elena sighed. "That's precisely why I'm anxious."
Selene chuckled gently, setting down a tray of tea. "She doesn't mean it that way, my lady. But Lira has a point. Tomorrow is… monumental."
Lira leaned closer, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Then let's rehearse. You know nothing about these princes—you'll embarrass yourself if someone asks you which one commands the Sky Legions or who broke the Eastern Siege last year."
Elena tilted her head, curiosity winning over her nerves. "Then tell me. I only know of Damon, the First Prince. The rest are shadows to me."
Lira grinned as though she had been waiting for this all evening. "Where do I even begin? Fine, listen carefully. Ten princes, ten different mothers. The king was never lacking in ambition—or appetite."
Selene gave her a scolding look, but Lira ignored it.
"The First Prince, Damon—you'll meet him soon enough. Everyone already knows he's brilliant and dangerously arrogant. He inherited the purest line of the Flame Bloodline, said to rival the sun itself. When he speaks, nobles fall silent. When he fights, enemies tremble. And yet…" she smirked, "he enjoys making people feel small. Don't let his smile fool you, Elena. It hides fangs."
Elena frowned slightly. "He is… to be my betrothed."
"Exactly why you must be careful," Lira shot back.
Selene quickly interjected, her voice soft but firm. "Not all is bad. Damon is respected, even by his rivals. He might be sharp and proud, but he does care for the kingdom. Some say he already governs behind the king's back."
Elena let the words sink in. She had imagined Damon countless times, the golden prince everyone admired. But hearing both admiration and warning unsettled her.
"What about the others?" she asked quietly.
Lira's eyes sparkled. "Ah, the others. Let's see. The Second Prince is a scholar—weak in battle but a genius in strategy. The Third commands fleets at sea, flamboyant as they come. The Fourth is said to charm women across the realm; half the noble daughters pray their fathers marry them off to him. The Fifth… ruthless, obsessed with military conquest."
She hesitated before continuing.
"And then there's the Sixth Prince. Miguel."
Elena perked up. "Miguel?"
Lira leaned back, lowering her voice again as though speaking of a ghost. "The invisible one. No one knows what he looks like. Some say he was scarred in childhood, others that he hides his face by choice. He never attends banquets, never competes in public tournaments. He's… unsettling. Cold, calculating, if the rumors are true. There are stories that even Damon respects him—or fears him."
Selene shivered slightly. "I've heard whispers too. That he carries the same bloodline as Damon, perhaps even stronger, but keeps it hidden. Some call him the Shadow Prince."
Elena frowned. "If he is so powerful, why would he remain unseen?"
Lira shrugged. "That's the mystery. Some think he plots in silence. Others believe he simply doesn't care for courtly games. Whatever the case, if you see an average-looking man trailing behind the royals tomorrow, it's probably one of his subordinates. They say his followers act in his stead."
Elena absorbed every word, a knot forming in her chest. Ten princes, each with their own strengths, ambitions, and secrets. And she, a girl born of prophecy, was to step into their world as if she belonged.
"Enough," Selene finally said, pouring tea into Elena's cup. "If you overwhelm her now, she'll collapse before tomorrow even arrives."
Lira laughed, standing and stretching. "Fine, fine. But remember my words, Elena. The banquet is not just a feast—it's a battlefield. Smiles sharper than swords, glances heavier than spears. Stay alert."
Elena managed a small smile. "I will. Thank you… both of you."
As the night deepened, her friends departed, leaving her once again by the glowing window. She sipped her tea slowly, the city humming below, and whispered to herself, "A battlefield of princes and princesses… and I am to walk among them."
She did not yet know that fate had other plans. Plans that would not bind her to Damon's brilliance, but to the shadow hidden in plain sight.
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