Lyana sat with her hands folded in her lap, casting a longing glance through the crystal ceiling overhead. The sky was just beginning to pink. It was her favorite time to sneak out of the palace. During sunset, in that brief moment when the light caught the city just right, the crystals blazed like a brooch made of diamond fire, aflame and sparkling, so bright they nearly blinded the eyes.
Instead, she was stuck here, at a table set for a hundred with a smile plastered to her lips, pretending to pay attention. And doing a sorry job at that. Though she looked the part of a princess in her ball gown made of sapphire lace and studded with pearls, her heart was that of an explorer and her mind never stopped its wandering.
"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, meeting the green eyes turned toward her in question, the only trait she and her mother shared. Lyana had her father's dark skin and rounded nose. Her ivory dove wings belonged to this house, whereas her mother, a former princess of the House of Song, had the saturated wings of a bluebird. But she was happy to have her mother's eyes, because it made it that much easier to recognize the emotion churning within them. Right now, Lyana read tired frustration with the warm edge of humor.
"My daughter, always with her head in the clouds…"
"I'm a bird." Lyana shrugged. "Where else should it be?"
Her father chuckled softly, nudging the queen with his elbow. "She has you there, sweetheart."
Her mother arched a pointed brow in his direction, the sort of look it seemed only a woman knew how to perfect. He tried to stifle his smile, but it didn't quite work. Lyana caught his gaze with a grin. The king, at least, was always on her side.
"With the trials beginning tomorrow," her mother said, "I'd hoped your feet would be firmly planted on the ground so we might at least, for a few days, fool the other houses into thinking we raised a well-behaved princess who would make a lovely queen."
Lyana stifled an eye roll and matched her mother stare for stare. "Like you were?"
The king snorted under his breath. Across the table, her brother bit his lip to keep the air puffing his cheeks from releasing, and Cassi, seated to her left, kicked her ankle in warning.
Her mother simply frowned. "Your grandmother never should've told you those stories. You didn't need the encouragement."
"I'm glad she did," Lyana countered, remembering the hours she used to spend in her grandmother's room, those wrinkled fingers folding her coiling ebony locks into tight braids. Her mother's mother was a queen of a faraway land, an isle Lyana had never seen. Her father's mother, however, was home. And even though it had been a few years since her passing, Lyana could still smell the coconut sweetness of her skin, could still feel the reassuring scratch of her nails against her scalp. Since her mother was fair-skinned and straight-haired, it had been her grandmother who'd helped Lyana through the awkward early teenage years, teaching her how to work with her body rather than against it. They sat before the mirror for hours while her grandmother enthralled her with countless stories—her favorite being the tale of her parents' courtship trials. "And I'd love to hear those stories again, Mother…if you still have the nerve."
The queen had one weakness, same as her daughter—the inability to back down from a challenge. Normally, that worked against Lyana, seeing as the challenge was most often keeping her unruly daughter in line. But right now, it might be to her advantage.
"Come on," she goaded. "I'm sure everyone would like to hear how you and Father chose each other. Ease my mind about what's coming tomorrow. Ease our minds."
Lyana glanced toward her brother. He was watching their mother, ever the doting son. "If you wouldn't mind, I would love to hear you tell it—you and Father both."
"It was so long ago, I hardly remember."
"Well, I do," their father cut in. "As is tradition, the House of Song was the first to present their offering to Aethios, and your mother was the first one through the door, squawking away to a tune only the gods could understand."
"I was not!" the queen quipped, blue wings brisling as she turned to slap the king's arm. "You love my voice."
"You're right," he agreed, eyes twinkling. "I do."
By now, the rest of the table had quieted to listen to their monarchs tell their love story. The mood of the House of Peace was a merry one, informal whenever possible to encourage a close bond. But when their king and queen spoke, they listened—out of loyalty, out of love, and mostly, out of respect for the rulers they held dear.
"Tomorrow night," her father began, "Lyana and Luka, my dear children, your courtship trials will begin with the parade of offerings, same as mine. The other houses will come to present their gifts to our god Aethios, the highest of them all, and you will receive them. Though it might not seem possible, I was once in your shoes, a nervous dove on the eve of his new life—afraid, excited, curious, so spun by my emotions I felt as though I were flying in the center of a raging tempest, letting the wind carry me where it may. And I can only pray to all the gods that you experience the same moment I did when your mother stepped through that door and into my home—a perfect sense of calm amid the storm."
He glanced at the queen, meeting her eyes as a brilliant smile widened her lips. The room seemed to warm with their love. Lyana's chest swelled. Her heart skipped a hopeful beat, and she leaned forward in her chair, eager for more. The rest of the world fell away—the other guests, the crystal walls, the setting sun—until she felt as though she lived in the picture her father's words painted.
"She must've been accompanied by her brothers, but I don't remember. All I see when I think on that moment is a girl with the brightest wings I'd ever seen, bluer even than the sky on a clear sunny day. Her face was covered by a mask of feathers, but she was still so beautiful she stole my breath. And as her voice traveled down the entrance hall, echoing off the walls and filling the crystal palace with the most beautiful music I'd ever heard, I knew I had to have her as my queen. She was the first princess through the door, but all it took was one. I didn't even see anyone else that night. I only had eyes for her."
"That's easy for you to say now, dear," her mother commented wryly, a slight smile on her lips. "Though as I recall, you didn’t ask me to dance once at the welcome ball that evening—and I was waiting."
"I was too worried I'd trip over my own feet! You had me awestruck."
"You danced with the princess of the House of Paradise quite well."
Luka coughed to hide a laugh as their father's jaw dropped. A few other soft snickers trickled down from the other end of the table.
"It was all a ruse to fuel your ire." The king winked. "And it worked, if I remember correctly."
"Well, after being ignored by you for most of the night, I had to do something to save my honor," her mother countered, peachy skin flushing pink, enlivened by the memory. "The first test the next morning just happened to be my best—"
"Archery," her father cut in to explain. "Which also happened to be my worst."
"So after sinking my first three arrows into the center ring of my target to prove my skill, I happened to glance down the line to where your father's empty target stood, and I thought I might do him a small favor."
"She landed that arrow right in the center of my ring—still the best shot I've ever seen—and I was in love."
"Well, I got your attention, to say the least."
"So," Lyana commented, tone a hair too innocent. "You might say that a little rule-breaking was worthwhile, given the circumstances."
"I was lucky," her mother answered firmly, seeing straight through her daughter's words. "Had your father been any other man, he might've been insulted by my stunt. He might've chosen a different mate, and my chances would have been destroyed. I would've had to return home to marry a noble from the House of Song with my reputation disgraced. Let this be a cautionary tale to choose wisely."
"Good advice, dear," the king smoothly added, softening her mother's harsh tone for their guests. The conversation was veering a bit too personal for such a public setting, though her father had a natural way about him that made people feel at ease, something Lyana liked to think she'd inherited. He raised a glass, meeting a hundred eyes with a single glance, making the whole room feel welcome. "To our children on this most glorious night, the prince and princess of this blessed house who have provided so much joy to us and to their people, we leave you with this—choose wisely. Think hard on what you hope to find in your mates, and keep those wishes at the forefront of your hearts and your minds. The next few days will pass in a blur, but if you use hope as a guide, it will lead you down the right paths, to the right mates who will give you everything you dream, as your mother has given to me."
"Hear hear!"
"In Aethios's name!"
"By his blessing!"
Lyana took a sip of hummingbird nectar as the cheers of her people rang throughout the banquet hall, letting the fizzing bubbles calm her nerves as she fought the other static charge brimming beneath her skin at her father's words. She glanced down to where her fingers were still clasped beneath the table, a subtle golden shimmer lighting her skin before she stifled it completely.
Her magic.
Powerful. Beautiful. Godly. And completely forbidden.
Choose wisely.
The words meant more than her parents could ever understand, though Cassi and Luka must have known the way they'd settle in her gut. Her brother met her gaze across the table, honey eyes more somber than the expression on his face seemed to allow. Her friend placed a palm over her hands and squeezed tightly. They were the only two people in the world who knew her secret, but if she chose wisely, maybe there would be a third person she might one day trust enough to tell. If she chose poorly, it could mean her life.
Maybe that was why she liked to push the boundaries—her entire existence was one massive act of defiance. And though it wasn't what her mother would want to hear, Lyana knew what she'd be looking for in a mate tomorrow. Another rebel, just like her. Someone who didn't mind if she broke the rules. Maybe even someone who broke them with her. An accomplice. An ally. A mate, yes, and hopefully a friend, but most of all someone who would accept her exactly as she was.