“Elanil…Elanil!”

  I turned to see Princess Faelyn standing a short distance away, her golden hair catching the wind as it streamed behind her. Her blue eyes and small face sculpted like a perfectly formed star. She folded her arms, an amused glint in her eyes.

  “Are you daydreaming again?” she said. “One of these days you’re going to fall off this terrace—and when you do, I’ll laugh.”

  I looked back out over the city; the rooftops bathed in light.

  “Maybe I will jump, Princess,” I said with a quiet chuckle.

  She scoffed and gave me a sharp tap between the shoulders. “Ha. Very funny. But seriously—don’t you dare.”

  I turned back to her with a grin and took a deliberate step toward the railing, lifting one foot as if I meant to climb over.

  She grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

  “Stop being an asshole,” she said, laughing.

  “Okay, okay,” I laughed.

  I rested my forearms against the terrace railing, and the princess followed a moment later, leaning beside me.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, a gleam in her eyes and a smile she never bothered to hide.

  “That it is, Princess.”

  I looked out over the city. The white stone caught the light and reflected it back like a fallen star. Beyond the walls, the forest stretched wide and green, endless and alive. The scent of pine and oak drifted on the breeze.

  This was home.

  This was the great kingdom of Thiradell.

  Footsteps approached from behind us. A castle servant stopped a respectful distance away, hands clasped, head bowed.

  “M’lady,” he said, “the king requests your presence—along with Elanil’s.”

  Faelyn groaned. “Great. It’s probably another royal gathering Mother is planning, and Father got dragged into it.”

  She straightened her posture, the complaint already half-forgotten.

  “If your father is asking for me as well,” I said, my tone sharpening slightly, “then it may actually be something interesting.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I swear, being royalty sucks. Don’t ever become one, Elanil.”

  I smiled. “No promises, m’lady.” We headed back through the throne room and down the long stairway that led deeper into the castle.

  “You know Mother’s been talking nonstop about this feast she wants to do,” Faelyn said, carefully lifting the hem of her dress so she wouldn’t trip. “She wants half the other royals in the capital.”

  “I’m sure she does,” I said, keeping a careful step behind her. “Your mother probably wants your father to strengthen ties—keep everyone smiling and loyal.”

  We reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the seemingly endless hallways that led toward the king’s office. The castle had always been beautiful, its walls adorned with deep reds, clean whites, and rich purples that caught the light in shifting patterns.

  I glanced at Faelyn as we walked.

  It was strange, realizing how many years had passed since we’d first met. Back then, we barely spoke. I was always at her father’s side, watching doorways and shadows, my focus fixed on protection. Those had been harder times—quieter, but heavier.

  “What are you staring at?” Faelyn asked suddenly.

  I blinked. She had slowed just enough to look back at me, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

  Damn. She caught me.

  “Nothing, Princess,” I said quickly, offering a small smile. “I was just thinking about how long we’ve been friends.”

  She looked forward again, her gaze settling on the doors to her father’s office ahead of us. I could still see the faint blush on her cheeks as we stopped before the door.

  Faelyn raised her hand and knocked.

  “Father,” she said, her voice steady despite herself, “it’s Faelyn and Elanil. May we enter?”

  “You may,” came a stern voice from within.

  We stepped inside quietly.

  King Erlan and Queen Sune were already deep in discussion, their voices overlapping slightly as we entered.

  “All I’m saying,” Queen Sune said, her hands folded tightly in front of her, “is that if we invite them, there will be better understanding as to why we need to raise the crop brackets this year.”

  “Yes, my dear, I understand that.” King Erlan replied, rubbing his brow, “but raising the brackets will harm the smaller farmers. They’ve already endured a poor harvest this season. Increasing it now would almost certainly cause unrest.”

  He noticed us then and straightened, setting aside his weariness.

  “Ah. Come in,” he said, gesturing toward the chairs near his desk. “Please, take a seat. We were just discussing a few matters of state.”

  Faelyn sat, smoothing her dress. I took the chair beside her, remaining alert out of habit.

  King Erlan glanced toward the queen, then back to his daughter.

  “Faelyn,” he said evenly, “your mother believes we should host a feast for the approaching season.”

  “I just believe it would be best for the kingdom,” Queen Sune said as she took a seat across from Faelyn.

  Faelyn leaned forward slightly. “Who all would be there?”

  “Primarily royals and their advisers,” Queen Sune replied.

  King Erlan exhaled softly. “I may also extend an invitation to another neighboring kingdom,” he added. “Strengthening ties now could prevent greater troubles later.”

  It was clear from his tone that he was not entirely convinced by the plan.

  I shifted in my seat. “My king,” I said carefully, “there will be many people gathered in one place. I cannot guarantee the safety of you and your family under such conditions.”

  King Erlan looked at me fully then, his expression firm but calm.

  “I have no doubts,” he said. “You have served as our royal assassin for five years, Elanil. You know this castle better than most who were born within its walls. If anyone can protect this family, it is you.”

  Had it really been five years already?

  I remembered running home from the academy, breathless with excitement, telling my mother that I had been chosen—that I was going to serve the crown as a royal assassin. At the time, it felt like the beginning of everything. Now, standing here, sworn to protect the royal family themselves, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

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  I looked to the king and inclined my head.

  “I won’t let you down, Your Grace,” I said. “I swear it upon the gods.”

  A small smile touched his expression. “That is good to hear, Elanil.”

  He turned his attention to his daughter. “Faelyn—what are your thoughts on the matter?”

  Faelyn had been absently twisting a strand of her hair around her finger, half-listening as she stared at the far wall. She straightened when she realized all eyes were on her.

  “I think it’s… fine,” she said, trying—and failing—to hide her lack of enthusiasm. “That’s really all I can say about it, Father.”

  “Faelyn,” Queen Sune said sharply, her composure finally cracking, “you need to take these matters seriously. You are royalty, the heir to the throne of Thiradell. These things matter.”

  Faelyn shot to her feet, palms slamming against the table.

  “I don’t want to be royalty!” she shouted. “It sucks. We’re always expected to be perfect—proper, quiet, well behaved—never allowed to just be anything else!”

  “Enough.”

  The word struck the room like a blade.

  King Erlan rose halfway from his chair, his fist crashing down onto the table with enough force to rattle the cups.

  “I did not call everyone here,” he said, his voice thunderous, “to listen to childish fighting. Not today. Not ever.”

  Silence fell immediately.

  “I’m sorry, Father…” Faelyn said quietly, her head bowed, her earlier fire replaced by shame.

  Queen Sune exhaled and softened. “My apologies as well, dear,” she said, her voice gentler as she stepped back from the argument.

  King Erlan leaned forward, his tone calm now—warm.

  “Faelyn, my love,” he said, “I know you dislike the gatherings, the politics, all of it. Believe me, so do I. You did not choose this life. You were born into it, and that was never your choice.”

  Faelyn said nothing, but she nodded.

  The king then turned his gaze toward me.

  “Elanil,” he said, lifting a hand slightly, “would you please escort Faelyn back to her chambers? The queen and I need a moment to speak.”

  “At once, Your Grace,” I replied.

  I stood and pulled Faelyn’s chair back for her. She took my hand as she rose, her grip light but grateful. Together, we left the room and stepped into the corridor beyond.

  The door closed softly behind us.

  “I hate it when she treats me like that,” Faelyn said as we walked, her expression tight with frustration. “I’m not a child. I know I’m the heir to the throne—but that doesn’t mean I want to be forced into everything.”

  I nodded, quickening my pace to keep beside her. “I understand,” I said carefully. “But Princess—slow down.”

  She didn’t.

  We turned a corner too sharply, and Faelyn collided with a servant coming the other way. Silverware clattered across the stone floor, ringing sharply through the hallway.

  “My apologies, Princess,” the servant said at once, dropping to one knee and scrambling to gather the fallen pieces. “I should have been paying more attention.”

  “No—no, it’s my fault,” Faelyn said quickly. “I was rushing and turned too fast.”

  She knelt beside her without hesitation, reaching for the scattered silver. I followed suit, lowering myself to help gather what I could.

  For a moment, there were no titles—only three people on a cold stone floor, quietly setting things right. I watched Faelyn as she knelt there, carefully setting the last pieces of silver back onto the cart. She might have been royalty, but—like her father—she cared more about people than appearances. About doing what felt right instead of hiding behind a title or pretending to be something cold and untouchable.

  “There we go,” she said softly, straightening the tray.

  “Thank you, Princess,” the servant said, bowing her head.

  “Of course,” Faelyn replied. “And I’ll try to pay closer attention when turning corners from now on.”

  The servant lingered a moment, still bowed, unsure whether to speak again.

  We started back down the hallway toward Faelyn’s chambers.

  “Have a good rest of your day,” Faelyn called back, lifting a hand in a small wave as we passed.

  The servant straightened at last, relief plain on her face.

  Faelyn had a way of easing tension without ever realizing she was doing it. We finally reached Faelyn’s chambers and stepped inside. The door closed softly behind us, shutting out the noise of the castle.

  Faelyn let out a breath she’d clearly been holding and sank into a chair near the window.

  “You know, Elanil,” she said, staring out at the city below, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like if I weren’t royalty. If I could walk through town without a guard. Travel to another kingdom without worrying about politics. Or just… leave.”

  I took the chair across from her, resting my forearms on my knees. “Where would you go,” I asked, “if you could go anywhere?”

  She smiled faintly, her eyes lighting with something softer.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Lonely Falls,” she said. “They say it’s a single waterfall deep in the Sewlin Forest, surrounded by trees and a ring-shaped lake. I’ve heard it’s beautiful. Quiet. I’ve wanted to see it for as long as I can remember.”

  I considered her for a moment, then leaned back slightly.

  “I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” I said. “We get through whatever feast your mother has planned—and afterward, I’ll personally escort you to the Lonely Falls. Just the two of us. Deal?”

  Her head snapped up.

  “Really?” she said, a grin spreading across her face. “Hell yes—deal.” She turned back toward the window, her gaze settling on the city below. This time, she was smiling.

  “And Elanil,” she added without looking at me, “stop calling me Princess. Just Faelyn is fine. We’ve known each other for years. Honestly, the formality is stupid.”

  I hesitated for half a breath.

  “…Alright,” I said with a smirk. “Faelyn.”

  Her smile widened, just slightly.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “You may enter,” Faelyn called.

  The door opened, and King Erlan stepped inside.

  I rose at once, offering him my seat and bowing my head. “Your Majesty.”

  “Elanil,” he said gently, “would you be so kind as to give us a moment?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right outside.”

  I stepped into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind me.

  I remained close enough to hear the tone of their voices through the thick wood, even if not every word.

  “Faelyn, my dear,” the king said softly, “are you alright?”

  “Yes, Father,” she replied. “It was just a petty squabble between Mother and me.”

  A pause.

  “I know the two of you do not always see eye to eye,” he continued, “but I would appreciate it if you cooperated with her—for the time being.”

  There was the faint sound of movement. I could picture her rolling her eyes.

  “If I must,” she said at last. “But I would like to go out for a while. Just to clear my head. Please.”

  Another pause.

  “Very well,” the king said. “But Elanil goes with you. And you will be back before sundown. Otherwise, I will send the guards to retrieve you.”

  A beat of silence—then:

  “Of course, Father.” I heard footsteps approaching the door and pushed myself off the wall, straightening at once.

  The door opened, and King Erlan stepped out.

  “Elanil,” he said, resting a firm hand on my shoulder, “forgive the family drama, my boy.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, Your Majesty,” I replied, lowering my head slightly. “Disagreements are bound to happen between family. I should know.”

  A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “Ah, yes,” he said. “And how is your family these days? Your mother and sister — are they well?”

  “They are well, Your Majesty,” I said with a nod. “My mother keeps busy, and my sister refuses to listen to her, as always.”

  The king chuckled softly.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” His expression shifted, growing more thoughtful. “And what of you, dear boy? There has been much unrest lately. You haven’t had the chance to return home as often as you should.”

  “I’m doing well, Your Majesty,” I said with a small smile. “Sleep has been… difficult lately. But I’ll manage.”

  The king studied me for a moment.

  “I’ll see what can be done about that, my dear boy. Perhaps we can arrange time for you to rest properly.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I replied. “But I’ll be fine.”

  The chamber door opened again, and Faelyn stepped out with a light, hurried stride. Sunlight from the windows caught in her golden hair as she joined us.

  “Now,” the king said, turning to me, “I will allow Faelyn into the city. But she is to return before sundown.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  I glanced toward Faelyn. She was trying to contain her excitement, but the grin spreading across her face betrayed her completely.

  The king shifted his gaze to her.

  “I trust you will be safe with Elanil,” he said evenly. “But if anything feels wrong, you return immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Father,” she said, nodding.

  She looked at me again—bright, hopeful, alive. “Alright, you two may go,” the king said.

  That was all Faelyn needed.

  With a quick tug at my sleeve, she pulled me into a brisk walk down the corridor.

  “Eee—I can’t wait!” she said, nearly bouncing as we moved. I had to lengthen my stride just to keep up with her.

  She was glowing.

  “We’re going to the square first,” she said, counting on her fingers as we walked. “Then the tavern, the library, the lower city market—”

  We turned another corner and descended a wide set of stairs.

  “—then the bathhouse, the armory, the bakery—”

  I caught her wrist lightly.

  “What is it?” she asked, spinning toward me with exaggerated impatience.

  “I need to grab something from the armory,” I said. “It’s just down this hall to the left. I’ll be quick. Then we’ll go.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine. But don’t take forever.”

  We turned left and stepped into the castle armory. I crossed to a rack mounted along the stone wall. Among the polished blades and ceremonial steel hung a smaller dagger — simple, balanced, easy to conceal.

  I took it down without hesitation.

  When I stepped back into the corridor, Faelyn was leaning against the wall, arms folded, wearing the look of someone who had been waiting an eternity.

  “Took you long enough,” she muttered.

  I held the dagger out to her.

  “This is just in case,” I said. “I doubt anything will happen. But if we get separated, you’ll need something more than harsh language to defend yourself.”

  She arched a brow, then took the blade.

  “I don’t need saving every second of the day,” she said — though she tucked the dagger neatly into the folds of her dress all the same.

  “Humor me.”

  She gave me a sideways look, then grabbed my sleeve again.

  “Come on.”

  We moved quickly through the corridor and into the castle courtyard, sunlight spilling across the stone.

  Beyond the gates, the city waited.