The Summer Coronation Festival unfurled like a jewel across Caerwyn. Lanterns floated above the streets, music spilled from every tavern, and the palace courtyard bloomed with color. Nobles from every house arrived in silks and jewels, their smiles polished, their words sharper than any blade.
Crown Prince Adrian walked at his father's side, garbed in gold-embroidered velvet. At his arm was Lady Evelyne of House Cindral, radiant in crimson. Her beauty was undeniable, her voice gentle, but each step with her felt like a chain tightening around his throat.
From across the courtyard, Caelan watched, silent in his polished armor. His scar caught the torchlight, his jaw tight. Their eyes met only once, and the world seemed to fall away. But Adrian forced his gaze elsewhere. Tonight, he was heir to Eloria, not a man in love.
Selene, dressed in emerald silk, moved through the crowd like a storm barely contained. Elara was present too, standing beside her father, Lord Veyra, whose eyes lingered on the king with suspicion. The distance between the two women was only a few paces, yet it felt like an ocean. When Elara's lips curved into the faintest smile, Selene's heart ached with longing.
Dorian, meanwhile, was in his element. Surrounded by admirers, he laughed, drank, and danced with equal abandon. Yet even in revelry, he listened. Courtiers spoke too freely when drunk, and between the music and laughter, Dorian caught whispers: war sooner than expected… betrayal within the palace walls…
The festival was meant to be a celebration of tradition. Instead, it became a theater of masks, where love and lies walked hand in hand, and danger lurked just beyond the glow of lanterns.