Peace had settled like a fragile veil over Vastelune, beautiful but brittle.Yet beneath the calm, the currents of emotion were shifting. Pride, loyalty, jealousy… and something harder to name.
The throne room stood silent as the princess entered. Her royal heels clicked with authority, her presence unchanged.
Almost.
Primira Vastelune was a mirror of elegance. Her curls shimmered like woven gold, her ice-blue eyes unwavering. But today, there was something behind them.
Not hesitation. Not confusion.
Conflict.
"You've changed," said Queen Vastelune softly, watching her daughter.
"Change is inevitable, Mother," Primira replied, not looking back.
"But I wonder… is it change from within, or is it because of him?"
The words struck like frost. Primira stiffened.
"What Ari Solen is or is not to me is irrelevant to my duty."
"And yet, you watch him like you would an invading flame—beautiful, dangerous… uncontrollable."
Primira clenched her gloved hands.
She remembered the gymnasium. The duel to death. She remembered how Ari never raised his voice, yet bent reality to his will.She remembered how he didn't just survive the battlefield—he governed it.
And now… Saphielle was getting close. Closer than Primira expected.
"He is not… easy to define," she said finally. "But I know this: I do not love him."
"Then why do you sound like you're convincing yourself?"
Primira didn't answer.Because somewhere deep inside, the Crown of Prismlight flickered.
Not with love. But with something worse—A loyalty not taught, not ordered.Earned.
By the outer gardens of the royal archive, Saphielle sat atop the fountain ledge, legs crossed, golden hair loose. She wore Aurelion's travel silks, but no guards followed her now.
"I read about you," she said casually as Ari approached.
"Dangerous thing to do," Ari replied.
She smiled. "They say you're a Threadless miracle, a war-changer. A devourer of Systems. A walking rewriting key."
"Sounds poetic," he murmured. "Too bad I'm just me."
"Is 'you' always this cryptic?"
He tilted his head. "Is 'you' always this direct?"
She laughed. "Not usually. But you break patterns."
Ari sat across from her, elbows resting on the edge of the fountain.
"Why are you really here?" he asked.
"To make amends. For what my kingdom did."
"You're a political pawn."
"Maybe. But pawns reach the end of the board, don't they?"
That made Ari pause.
"Are you trying to manipulate me?"
"Yes," she said with a playful shrug. "But the problem is, I think I don't have to."
Silence fell between them.
The fountain behind whispered as water spun in looping glyphs—residuals from Ari's earlier spellwork. They shimmered in the air like memory.
Saphielle touched the glyph-light with her finger. "Do you know what I envy?"
"Envy?"
"Them. The four. The way they follow you—not because they must, but because they choose to. I wonder… what would it take for you to choose someone?"
Ari didn't respond.
His obsidian-gray eyes studied her, quiet and unreadable. Not cold—but ancient. She almost imagined the world turning behind his gaze.
"I don't choose," he said softly. "I accept."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if you're walking beside me… it's because I already trust you to keep up."
Primira watched from the upper balcony, arms crossed tightly. Cerys leaned against the railing beside her, expression unreadable.
"She's bold," Primira said flatly.
"So were we," Cerys murmured.
"Do you think… he'll choose her?"
Cerys glanced at her. "Ari doesn't choose like others do. You know that."
From the shadows behind them, Eluin's voice floated like dream-silk.
"She's not his. Not yet. But she might be."
"And what about us?" Primira asked.
Eluin only smiled faintly.
"We're already part of him. That cannot be undone."
He stared at Saphielle's reflection in the water.And for the first time, he didn't see just a treaty.
He saw someone who looked at him not with reverence or fear…But curiosity.
And that was rare.