Three Days Later – Dravendor Borderlands
The procession was grander than anything Elira had ever seen. Black and red banners bearing the imperial phoenix snapped in the wind as armored soldiers rode ahead of her carriage, flanking her like a prisoner rather than an honored guest. The road was silent. No cheers. No flowers.
Only steel.
She peered through the curtain. Dravendor's lands were stark—bare hills, stone cities, and skies tinged with ash. It was beautiful in a ruthless way, so unlike Velanthia's soft green fields and blooming orchards. A land built for war, not dreams.
"Elira," came her handmaid's voice, low and fearful. "You've gone pale."
"I'm all right, Lysa," Elira replied gently, offering her a smile. "I must look composed when I meet him."
"Him," Lysa muttered darkly. "The prince who ordered the execution of a hundred prisoners without blinking."
Elira closed her eyes. She had heard the stories too—how Crown Prince Kaelion Draeven led his armies into conquest without mercy. How he never allowed anyone to touch him, how he never smiled. A prince forged of ice and blood.
And now he was her future husband.
The carriage stopped.
Her heart jolted, but she stepped out gracefully, sunlight catching on her silver-trimmed veil. A line of soldiers stood at attention before the black gates of the Imperial Fortress.
And there, mounted on a coal-black horse, was him.
Crown Prince Kaelion Draeven.