BOOK 2
THE GILDED COURT: THE WHISPERS OF THE CROWN
Prologue
The morning mist clung to Aurora Lake like a veil. The air carried the scent of pine and wet earth, the kind of stillness that belonged only to early spring. Along the shore, a young woman guided her mare carefully through the shallow reeds, her cloak trailing behind her like a spill of silver.
Princess Sophia of Ravenscroft breathed in the cold air and let it fill her chest. The silence here was a rare comfort. At home, the corridors of Ravenscroft Castle were full of plans and whispers, every breath weighed by duty. Out here, the only voice was the gentle lapping of water against stone.
She stopped beside a weathered pier and dismounted. The wooden planks groaned beneath her boots. For a while, she simply stood there, watching the faint ripples on the surface. Peace was fragile in their world, a truce between kingdoms that had spent decades circling war. Aurora Lake was supposed to be the symbol of that peace. Yet even the lake, for all its beauty, could not hide the cracks beneath its reflection.
Her peace was broken by the sound of hooves behind her.
Sophia turned sharply, her hand tightening around her reins. A dark horse emerged from the trees, its rider tall, straight-backed, dressed in the dark blue and gold of Eldora's royal crest. The man dismounted with practiced precision, every movement too deliberate to be ordinary.
"Your Highness," he said, his tone even, his words perfectly measured.
Sophia's brow lifted. "You are late, Prince Edward."
Crown Prince Edward Lancaster regarded her with a steady, unreadable gaze. His voice was deep, smooth, and clipped. "You expected me early?"
"I expected you on time."
He gave the faintest hint of a smile. "Then I have disappointed you already."
"You do seem rather skilled at that."
He tilted his head, as though considering whether her remark deserved an answer. "I am told I am not very good at pleasing anyone."
Sophia crossed her arms, unable to resist the smallest smile. "At least you know yourself."
That earned her a quiet glance, something almost like amusement in his eyes before he turned to tether his horse.
It was strange, standing beside him again after so long. They had met only twice before, both times at court gatherings, where every word was a performance and every smile carried a cost. He had seemed so cold then, like a statue carved from duty. Yet here, in the stillness of the lake, she caught glimpses of something gentler beneath the armor.
Edward stepped toward the pier and looked out across the water. "Aurora Lake looks smaller than I remember."
Sophia joined him. "Perhaps you grew taller."
"Or wiser," he said.
"You give yourself too much credit, Your Highness."
He glanced down at her, one brow lifting slightly. "You speak very freely for a princess."
"Freedom is a habit in Ravenscroft," she replied lightly. "You should try it sometime."
He said nothing for a while, only watched the mist roll over the lake. The silence between them was not heavy but careful, as if both knew that words, once spoken, might shift the air too easily.
Finally, Edward broke it. "You asked for this meeting."
"I did," Sophia said, straightening. "I wanted to discuss the grain tariffs on the western border. The farmers of Eldora are struggling after the frost. If we reduce our export duties, it would—"
He raised a hand. "You think I do not already know that?"
Sophia met his gaze. "I think you know, but you do nothing. Knowing and acting are not the same."
His expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened. "There are laws, Princess. Treaties. If I bend one, the council will demand another in return."
"Then bend it anyway," she said quietly. "People are starving while you wait for permission."
He turned away, his voice low. "You speak as though the ruling were so simple."
Sophia took a step closer, her voice softer now. "And you speak as though compassion were weakness."
That made him look at her again. Their eyes held her warmth against his restraint.
For a moment, neither moved. A breeze lifted the edge of her cloak and carried the faint scent of lilacs toward him. Edward swallowed, his composure wavering just enough for her to see the man behind the prince.
Then thunder rolled in the distance. The first drops of rain fell against the lake's surface, turning the reflection into ripples.
Sophia looked up. "You brought the storm."
"I told you I am not good at pleasing anyone," he said.
She laughed softly, the sound breaking through the tension. "Then we are even, Your Highness. I am not good at being silent."
The rain began to fall harder. They hurried toward the old boathouse nearby, taking shelter beneath its slanted roof. Inside, the air smelled of cedar and damp earth. A single bench stood against the wall.
Sophia shook the water from her cloak, her laughter still faintly echoing. "The great Crown Prince, hiding from the rain. I never thought I'd see the day."
Edward leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Not when someone listens," she said.
He glanced at her again, and this time he didn't look away. There was something steady in her gaze, something that disarmed him in ways the battlefield never could.
Outside, the rain softened to a hush.
Sophia sat on the bench, her hands folded in her lap. "You could do good things, Edward. Real things. If you wanted to."
He watched her for a long moment. "And if wanting is not enough?"
"Then try," she said simply. "That is what courage is."
The words lingered between them like a promise neither was ready to speak aloud.
When the storm finally cleared, sunlight broke through the clouds, spilling across the lake.
Sophia rose and turned to him with a faint smile. "Perhaps next time, you will arrive on time."
Edward's lips curved, almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps next time, you will let me speak."
"Unlikely," she said, her eyes glinting.
He followed her out into the light, the lake behind them gleaming like polished glass. Somewhere in that reflection, the first whisper of something fragile and rare took shape, not yet love, not yet trust, but the beginning of both.
And the lake, silent and golden, remembered.