AERIS
"What did you just say?" Aeris's green eyes snapped to Soren, who lingered by the doorway—his boots quiet against the old wood, his shoulders stiff as iron. He didn't meet her eyes like he usually did. Instead, his gaze held fast to the vase of wildflowers on the tea table, the petals trembling ever so slightly in the draft.
"Lady Selene," he said again, voice low, rough like wind scraping stone, "has been taken into the barbarian prince's chambers."
The apple in Aeris's hand slipped, thudding softly against the rug as she sprang to her feet. Her breath caught in her throat, as she made for the door—but Soren was quicker. As if he'd been waiting for this, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back firmly against him.
"Let me go!" she hissed, twisting and clawing at his arm, her fingers digging into the heavy wool of his tunic. "Soren, what are you doing?"
He held fast, unmoved. He'd always known when she was about to break loose—and he was always there to stop her. "You can't, Aeris," he murmured near her ear, his breath warm. "Your family… they are trying to keep you safe."
Her struggling faltered. She turned in his grip, heart pounding like hooves on dry earth. "What are you saying?"
Soren's expression cracked—just a little. His eyes, as blue as glacier melt, widened at the sight of her face. Then, with a soft sigh, he released her.
"I shouldn't speak," he muttered, turning his face aside.
"You will speak, Soren." Her voice sharpened like the snap of a winter twig. She stepped into his space, finger pointed at his chest, chin tilted high. "Or I swear to the stars, I'll never speak to you again."
His lips parted, trembled. The weight of her words settled into him like brick. She knew he could never bear her silence. Not Aeris. Not his Aeris.
"The barbarian prince has demanded your hand—or the heads of your two brothers," Soren blurted out.
Aeris froze. For a long moment, all she could feel was disbelief, cold and absolute. Zerek hadn't chosen Selene. He had chosen her.
Her family had done everything to prevent this. They'd scolded her, warned her, even threatened to leash her like a wild thing if she so much as stepped near the great hall. All to keep her out of Zerek's sight.
But it hadn't worked.
Zerek had seen her. Had heard her contempt. He knew she hated him, knew she'd spit in his face if he ever came groveling. And still—he had chosen her over Selene, who at least knew how to mask her fury, as all Duskari nobles were taught.
"So that's how it is," Aeris murmured, her voice low, a crooked smile forming as her eyes narrowed toward the door. "That heathen prince thinks I'm the weakest of the lot. I'll show him what comes of underestimating me."
She didn't wait another heartbeat. In one swift motion, she crossed the room and seized the sword mounted on the wall—placed there by her father, who had thought it symbolic. He never knew she trained in secret, night after night, with Soren as her shadow.
"Aeris!" Soren was right behind her as she threw the door open. It slammed against the stone wall with a crack that echoed through the hall.
"You can't go!" he cried. "If you go now, all of Lady Selene's plans will be for nothing."
"What plans?" Aeris scoffed, her steps echoing as she stormed down the corridor. "You think I don't know my sister? She's going to throw herself on the fire again for the so-called greater good. For family." Her lip curled. "As if I'd ever allow that."
She glanced at Soren, voice thick with a thread of mischief. "If Prince Zerek wants me as his wife, then he's asking for trouble—and as you well know, Soren, I'm full of it."
Soren let out a breath that could've been a laugh and jogged to match her stride. "Aye, that you are. But what are you even planning to do with that sword?"
She didn't look at him. "A man who wants to marry me? He'll have to fight me first."
Her words cut clean and cold as steel. She marched down the stone halls, chin high, the sword strapped at her side like it had always belonged there.
Maids paused in their tasks, eyes wide. One dropped a tray. Others turned and scattered, skirts flying as they went to fetch her brothers or sound the alarm to her father. But Aeris didn't stop. Not for them. Not for anyone.
She reached the heavy archway that led to the wing the barbarians had claimed. You didn't need signs to know it—the air changed here. There was something thick in it. Musky, wild. The scent of fire-smoke, leather, and sweat. The energy buzzed low and brash.
Men lounged along the walls like wolves half in skin. Their clothes—if they could be called that—hung loose, torn and carelessly slung. Their faces were sharp-edged and full of heat, eyes following her every move with a mixture of hunger and surprise.
Still, Aeris didn't flinch. She walked straight through them, unshaken, her gaze locked ahead. Soren's hand hovered near his blade, shoulders stiff, but she didn't spare him a glance.
"Prince Zerek!" she called, her voice ringing off stone. "Where is your prince? I dare him to come out and face me!"
For a breath, silence answered.
Then, a man stepped forward—a thick-set brute with hair like straw and a jaw like an anvil. He laughed, rough and grating, the sound crawling beneath the skin.
"Well, well," he said, voice rich with mockery. "If it isn't the youngest princess come to grace us with her royal temper."
"Where is Prince Zerek?" Aeris demanded, her voice sharp as the blade she leveled at the man's chest. "If he isn't a coward, let him come out and face me."
The man only laughed again. But he lifted a hand, and with a nod, the other men stepped aside, clearing a path down the corridor.
"Please, Princess," he said with a mocking tilt of his head. "Right this way."
Aeris stepped forward, but something tugged at her—Soren's fingers curled into the hem of her shirt, holding her back with quiet force. She turned to look at him, and his eyes—always calm, always sure—were clouded with worry.
She gave him a small smile, soft and brave. "Don't worry," she murmured. "I'll be fine."
She pulled free gently, and her boots struck stone as she marched on, her spine straight, shoulders squared. The barbarian walked ahead, heavy and unhurried, until they reached the end of the corridor. He pushed open a thick wooden door with a creak.
What Aeris saw froze her blood.
There, in the warm golden light of the room, her sister Selene stood with her back half-turned—bare shoulders exposed just a second before she yanked her dress up and turned away, shielding herself.