Davian bowed with exaggerated flair. “At your service, oh wise and benevolent High Priestess. I was half expecting you to trip on your way up here like you did at the Spring Festival last year.” His grin widened as Alara’s cheeks flushed. “Do you remember how red Father’s face was?


    She shook her head, suppressing a groan. “Yes, and I also remember you being conveniently absent when he found out it happened because someone had loosened the ribbons on my dress.”


    Davian laughed unapologetically. “What can I say? I’ve always had impeccable timing.”


    Rasa cleared her throat, her gaze flicking back and forth between the Alara and Davian. When both turned their attention to her, she extended her hand toward the boy with a polite yet curious smile. “Prince Davian, I presume?”


    “Ah, yes,” he replied, his grin broadening as he took her hand and brought it to his lips with an exaggerated flourish. “And you must be Rasa. I’ve heard much about you. It’s a shame we haven’t met before now.”


    His tone shifted, carrying a playful edge as he continued, “Father keeps sending me off to Stormhold, insisting I can learn a great deal from Caldric about how to run a kingdom. But all I’ve really learned is how uptight a king is expected to be.”


    “Speaking of which,” Alara interjected, her gaze flicking pointedly to his hand, which still held Rasa’s in a loose grip, as though he had forgotten to let go. “Why are you back so soon? I thought the Asterians only allowed travel through the Inner Sea every six months at most.”


    She spoke casually, but beneath the surface, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion simmered. It wasn’t like Davian to appear unannounced. In fact, Father always informed her of his return months in advance, ensuring she had plenty of time to prepare for his visits. To show up without warning was entirely unheard of. These are strange days, Elias’s warning echoed in her mind.


    “It’s nothing to be concerned with,” Davian said quickly, waving his hands as though brushing the matter away. In the motion, he finally released Rasa’s hand, which she retracted with a raised eyebrow. “Caldric is hosting talks with the Asterians over the next month for a new treaty, and, well… the reality is that my presence there would make those discussions more… difficult.”


    Alara nodded thoughtfully, her mind turning over his words. She didn’t know much about politics—it wasn’t her place—but she knew enough to understand the dynamic at play. Vesperia, where Caldric ruled, had a much better relationship with Asteria, the country that separated Vesperia and Emeresia on the horseshoe-shaped landmass of Marino.


    Once, in her father’s lifetime, the island had been a united nation. But the war had shattered that unity, and relations between Asteria and Emeresia had never truly recovered. The scars of distrust ran deep, leaving Emeresia isolated while Asteria forged their alliances elsewhere with only the treaty holding their lives together. Adding to Davian’s sudden, unexplained return... Strange days, indeed.


    “So the Asterians allowed you passage so they could meet with King Caldric without your prying eyes?” Rasa asked bluntly, voicing the exact question Alara had been turning over in her mind.


    Alara smiled softly, watching the exchange with quiet amusement. Most people would hesitate to question a prince so directly, but Rasa had never been one for deference when it came to titles. It was one of the things Alara admired most about her—Rasa’s boldness was unwavering, regardless of the company she kept.


    “Not exactly,” Davian said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Uncle Caldric may have arranged for me to take... an alternative route.”


    Both Alara and Rasa raised their eyebrows, silently urging him to elaborate. He sighed, the weight of their expectant gazes pressing on him. “Fine. Follow me,” he muttered, gesturing toward one of the darker, shadowed corners of the room.


    The girls exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, but they followed him without question. The din of the banquet seemed to fade as they reached the dimly lit corner. Davian leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.


    “Uncle has a man who handles his... dirtier work. Unofficial business. His name is Rufus Faulkner. He’s an… interesting man, to say the least.”


    Alara frowned, the name unfamiliar but the implication clear. Beside her, Rasa’s expression remained unreadable, though her eyes sharpened slightly.


    “What does that have to do with you?” Alara asked finally, breaking the silence when it became clear Davian wouldn’t continue without prompting.


    “Well,” he began, “Rufus has connections throughout all the cities in Marino—or so I’m told. He used those connections to smuggle me through one of the Asterian blockades and delivered me safely to Port Sylen. Father’s men retrieved me from there.”


    “He smuggled you?” Rasa repeated, her eyebrows arching as an awkward laugh escaped her. “How does one smuggle a prince? Wouldn’t anyone of importance know what you look like? You’re Emeresia’s heir, for Aedre’s sake.”


    Her tone was incredulous, but there was a sharp edge of curiosity beneath it. Alara found herself nodding slightly in agreement, her own questions bubbling to the surface. Davian’s face was unmistakable—how could anyone manage to hide him in plain sight? The idea seemed impossible.


    “I also happen to fit in a fish barrel quite nicely,” Davian admitted with a sheepish smile, his embarrassment evident.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Both girls stared at him in stunned silence, the absurdity of his statement hanging in the air. Then, it clicked.


    “He put you in a barrel and covered you in fish?!” Alara blurted, her voice louder than she intended as disbelief overwhelmed her.


    Davian’s eyes widened, and he quickly gestured for her to quiet down. Leaning in, he whispered hurriedly, “We leave that part out when we talk to Father about it. I think that may technically be treason or something.”


    Rasa bit her lip, stifling her laughter, while Alara pinched the bridge of her nose, caught somewhere between horror and exasperation. But as she looked up, her breath hitched.


    In the far corner of the room, she thought she saw something—a shadow shifting against the wall, barely visible in the dim light. She straightened, her attention fixed on the spot, straining to make sense of what she saw. But whatever it was had already vanished.


    Another trick of the light? she wondered grimly, unease curling in her chest. The thought pulled her back to what she’d seen at the fountain earlier that day. Does this prove that I''m seeing things?


    And yet, she couldn’t shake the strange pull she felt toward the corner. The air seemed heavier there, quieter, as if something lingered there just out of reach. Slowly, almost unconsciously, she began moving toward it. Her steps were tentative, her eyes locked on the wall as if expecting the shadow to reappear.


    When she reached it, she extended a hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered closer to the cold stone surface. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for—what she expected to find. But she couldn’t ignore the faint whisper of instinct urging her forward.


    Before Alara’s hand could reach the wall, Rasa’s firm grip caught her arm, turning her around. Rasa''s face was confused and worried, her eyes searching Alara’s intensely. Alara glanced over to Davian, whose expression mirrored Rasa’s.


    “Are you okay?” Rasa asked, gently.


    “I—” Alara started, the words catching in her throat. Was she okay? She wasn’t sure. Her eyes flicked back to the wall, but the feeling was gone, just as it had been earlier that day at the fountain. “I don’t know,” she admitted finally, her voice blunt and uncertain. “I thought I saw something move on the wall, but… I don’t feel it’s there now.”


    Davian tilted his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. “That wouldn’t be the goddess, would it?” he asked, his voice curious and uneasy. He looked to Rasa, sensing that Alara wasn’t ready to answer. “She communicates through water, doesn’t she?”


    Rasa''s gaze lingered on Alara. “She does,” she replied thoughtfully. “It must have been something else.”


    “Something else is worse,” Alara said finally, her voice low as she stepped back from the corner.


    Rasa nodded, falling into step beside her without question. Davian lingered a moment, his curiosity evident in the way he stared at the shadows, but he eventually followed, trailing after them as they moved closer to the warm glow of the nearest candelabra.


    “What do you mean, ‘something else is worse’?” Davian asked as they came to a stop, his tone sharp with concern.


    Rasa’s expression turned serious, her voice dropping as she answered. “Aedre isn’t the only Old God still on this plane of existence. If you believe in the Writings of Laina Valewyn, she and her followers managed to move most of the pantheon to a pocket realm—the Dream. That’s why we still benefit from their powers but don’t have to endure their direct influence.” She paused, her eyes darkening. “But there are some who remained. Ones the Rebellion couldn’t find or reach.”


    “Wait, wait, wait,” Davian interrupted, holding up a hand as if to physically stop her words. “Are you trying to say there’s an Old God in this room with us?”


    “No, not necessarily,” Rasa replied, her tone calm but cautious. “But Alara, as Aedre’s Chosen, would be sensitive to their powers and machinations, even subtle ones.”


    Alara shook her head, her apprehension growing with every word. “Except we’re in Aedre’s Temple,” she said firmly. “They shouldn’t have any influence here at all.”


    Davian''s expression shifted from confusion to faint panic. “So this is nothing, right? Nothing is going on, and we’re safe. Right?”


    Neither Alara nor Rasa answered immediately. Alara’s eyes remained locked on the shadowed corner, daring it to move, to show her anything. If we are in danger, she silently pleaded, show me a sign. Tell me what to do.


    But nothing happened. The corner stayed still, unmoving, as lifeless as the stone walls surrounding it. Alara released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, the tightness in her chest loosening just slightly.


    “I think we’re fine,” she said finally, letting her shoulders relax. “It must have been a trick of the light.”


    Rasa didn’t look entirely convinced. Her voice was quiet but firm as she murmured, “I think we should still tell Elias.”


    Alara nodded and began to follow Rasa toward the exit, but Davian held out a hand, stopping them both.


    “Before you leave,” he said, his voice steady but his cautious gaze still fixed on the shadowed corner, “perhaps you should speak to Father first.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you’re not entirely sure that we’re in danger, that is.”


    Alara turned back to Davian, her expression thoughtful, her voice quieter now. “Is there something wrong?” she asked, glancing once more toward her father. “When I saw him earlier, he looked… agitated.”


    “I don’t know,” Davian admitted, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I think my sudden arrival has thrown him off. But he did ask for you. By name.”


    She cringed inwardly at his words. Her father had always expected her presence at events like this, but he rarely sought her out directly. On countless occasions, she’d endured entire banquets without exchanging a single word with him, his attention perpetually consumed by other people, other matters.


    If he had specifically asked for her tonight, something must truly be wrong.


    The thought sent a chill creeping down her spine. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of trouble that had been collecting throughout the day—Sister Halene’s fearful expression, Elias’s cryptic warning about storms beyond the hills, Rasa’s mention of bandits and unrest along the borders.


    She nodded, her resolve hardening. “Of course. It was my intention to speak with him anyway.”


    Davian’s shoulders relaxed slightly at her reply. “I’ll come with you,” he said quickly before turning to Rasa. “And will you be accompanying us as well?”


    For a moment, Rasa hesitated. Alara could see the conflict across her face, as though she were considering leaving to inform Elias of what had happened. It would have been the pragmatic choice—the safer option. And if they were all truly in danger, perhaps it was the smartest thing to do.


    But selfishly, Alara hoped Rasa would stay. She needed her friend’s steady comfort, now more than ever.


    Rasa finally smiled. “Of course, I’ll join you,” she said warmly. “I did promise you I wouldn’t leave you alone.”


    Relief washed over Alara as she returned the smile, reaching out to take Rasa’s hand. “Let’s hurry, then.”


    She extended her other hand to Davian, who took it without hesitation, and together the three of them began making their way toward her father’s elevated platform. Hand in hand, they ascended the steps, Alara’s mind buzzing with worry, the events of the day pressing down harder on her with each step. She couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had been leading to this moment, that whatever lay ahead would demand answers she wasn’t ready to face.