The ceremony was beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way.
I stepped carefully along the polished marble floor, my dress brushing against the surface so lightly that it barely made a sound. Behind me, the fox at my feet padded silently, ears twitching, alert to every movement. Birds that had perched near the windows fluttered nervously, circling above my head like nervous sentinels. Even with my small gift, I had never felt such pressure from a single place.
The hall was filled with noble mages and visiting dignitaries from neighboring realms, their robes shimmering with subtle enchantments. Candles floated like stars above us, casting shadows that danced across intricate murals depicting battles and legendary mages from centuries past. Their faces were expectant, their eyes sharp. They whispered quietly to each other, throwing occasional glances in my direction. I could feel the weight of judgment settling on me, pressing down harder than the heaviest robe in the world.
And then… he arrived.
I didn't see him at first. One moment, the hall was filled with murmurs and rustling fabrics; the next, all attention snapped toward the double doors at the far end. The air seemed to bend, the floating candles flickering uneasily as if reacting to his presence.
He stepped in with the kind of silence that made the room itself hold its breath. My fox growled low in my lap, and my birds flitted anxiously around my head. There it is again, I thought, my heart skipping a beat. That strange, heavy pull in my chest I had felt yesterday, when I first glimpsed him from the corridor, returned tenfold.
He was impossibly tall, his robes a deep violet that shimmered faintly with enchanted threads. His hair, dark as midnight, fell across sharp, angular features, framing a face that could have been carved from ice. And his eyes… oh, his eyes. Dark, polished, piercing, and so cold that it felt like they could slice through walls. He scanned the room with a measured gaze, and for the briefest moment, they landed on me.
I froze.
Every instinct screamed at me to bow, to shrink, to hide behind the fox and the small flock of birds circling above. But I couldn't. My legs locked, and my hands gripped the fabric of my dress. My throat felt dry.
He didn't smile. He didn't even blink. He simply looked. And in that gaze, I could feel the message clearly: You are insignificant. You are small. You do not belong here.
I tried not to flinch.
The wedding ceremony began formally, with speeches, exchanges of vows, and the recitation of our families' alliances. My voice trembled slightly when I spoke my own words, but the fox beside me pressed close, reassuring me with its warmth. Birds chirped softly, almost as if echoing my heartbeats. It was a small comfort, but enough.
After the formalities, the mage heir stepped forward, closer this time. I could feel the air around him hum with raw power, an almost visible energy radiating outward. People around me whispered his name with reverence or fear, and yet, I felt none of their protection. I was utterly alone in his presence.
He stopped just a few feet away. I dared to glance up. He regarded me carefully, as though measuring every inch of me, analyzing my posture, my expression, even the subtle glow of my power through the fox in my lap. And then… he raised an eyebrow.
"Your animals speak to you," he said, his voice calm, deliberate, and low, almost a whisper that carried through the hall. "Interesting."
I stiffened. Did he… know? Could he sense it? My cheeks heated.
"They do nothing more than I allow," I said cautiously, my voice small but steady.
He didn't respond immediately. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not in anger, but in curiosity. He took a single step closer, and I felt the air shift again, heavy and charged. My fox hissed, retreating slightly, sensing danger, but I placed a hand on its head, whispering for it to stay calm.
I swallowed hard. He is dangerous, I thought, more dangerous than anyone I have ever known.
And yet… there was something else.
A faint flicker of interest in the way he observed me. A subtle shift in the hum of power around him, almost imperceptible, but I felt it. The fox growled softly again, and the birds fluttered, uneasy. But my own pulse raced, not from fear, but from the inexplicable pull I felt toward him.
I hated it.
The mage heir finally spoke again. "You will live here now. You will follow the rules of this palace and obey them. That includes respecting your position… and mine."
His tone was flat, commanding, but not cruel. The words were heavy, precise, meant to remind me of my place. I bowed slightly, forcing my pride down.
"I understand," I whispered. My hands shook, but my fox nudged my lap reassuringly, giving me courage.
He regarded me silently for a moment longer, then turned, walking away with fluid, confident steps. Every eye in the hall followed him, and the candles flickered as if bowing to him. The weight of his presence lingered long after he left, and I realized something I hadn't expected: he had noticed me.
Later, as I was escorted to my quarters, I kept replaying the encounter in my mind. His eyes… that strange, cold gaze that seemed to strip away everything but the bare truth of me. The power he radiated was immense, terrifying, and yet… there was something else I couldn't place.
I peeked through the doorway at my fox. It nuzzled my hand. The birds circled above, their soft chirps like whispers.
"You think he's dangerous," I whispered.
The fox tilted its head, as if to say, Yes. And yet… you are clever.
I had always felt weak compared to humans, weaker still compared to mages. But even as fear and awe threatened to paralyze me, a small spark of determination glimmered in my chest. My animals, my cleverness, and my wit… they might be small, but they were mine.
And if I could use them wisely… maybe I could survive here.
That night, I lay awake in the palace, listening to the faint hum of magic through the walls. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a soft step, deliberate and measured, passing outside my window. My fox curled closer to me, ears twitching. The birds had settled for the night.
He is close, I thought. Watching. Judging.
I shivered, both terrified and inexplicably drawn to the presence that had already begun to dominate my life. I closed my eyes, whispering softly to my fox, "We'll be clever… we'll survive. And maybe… just maybe… we can make him see me."
The fox blinked, almost knowingly, and rested its head on my lap.
Yes, I thought. This is only the beginning.