The air in the <mark>Styxin</mark> Temple was thick with incense and ever-present whispers. The High Priestess, <mark>Ysara</mark>, sat across from Mira, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Despite the serene atmosphere, a tension hung between them, sharp as a blade. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have, and she knew it wasn’t one either looked forward to from the day she’d come to the Temple.
“You must understand, your Highness,” <mark>Ysara</mark> said, her voice low but firm, “you cannot reveal your true identity. Not at the Academy. It’s for your own safety.”
Mira’s gaze flickered to the stone floor beneath her feet, the weight of the words pressing against her chest. She’d heard this before, and yet, it never felt any less heavy. “I understand,” she replied, though the words were practically foreign in her mouth. It wasn’t as though the old <mark>Styxin</mark> tongue was some mysterious string of words she had to translate before she spoke. It was her first language. The one her mother had spoken to her from the first breath she’d taken, and the only one she’d known until the High Priestess had taught her the common language. Mira pursed her lips, trying to repress the accent she’d carried from the <mark>Tandor</mark> Mountains. “It is my responsibility to protect my people by protecting myself,” she said as she had many times before, each time with less conviction than the last.
“Many would seek to use you, to claim your title, your power. The <mark>Styxin</mark> are envied, but they are also feared,” <mark>Ysara</mark> continued, her eyes searching Mira’s face for signs of real, true understanding that she was sure a child couldn’t possibly have and yet hoped Mira would. “You are the Queen of <mark>Styxis</mark>. You must stay hidden for as long as it takes until your coronation can be public when you are of age.”
The High Priestess was right, of course. Mira had known this for as long as she could remember. But even so, it gnawed at her. Her mother, <mark>Ahalexis</mark>, had sent her away to this very temple when she was only ten. She left, abandoning her to the keep to be hidden from the world, to be molded into something else—something less than what she truly was. All the while, her dreams were filled with the stories her mother told her, the <mark>Tandor’s</mark> Promise that <mark>Styxin</mark> would one day have a king. A great king. The last king. And her heart swam with girlish delight at the thought that this promised prince was meant for her and his name would be Sacrifice. Of course, that wasn’t the sort of future the Temple painted for her.
Mira closed her eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over her, the echoes of her childhood. The cold stone walls of the temple, the silence that filled her days, the endless lessons in humility and how to sit up straight. The way they had made her a servant—just another girl in a sea of faceless children. They said it was for her own sake; a queen was a servant of the people, and a servant amid priestess was no different. She’d never been allowed to forget that she was a secret, a living weapon blessed with magic beyond any before, and yet never allowed to use her power.
Her mother had told her it was for her protection that she live among the priestesses and temper her gift until the time came to use them. Mira had never questioned it, not until now, not until she met Haros, who’d challenged everything she understood as ‘allowed’.
He was so mischievous, the way he grinned and his carefree laugh, his entire being radiating the kind of freedom that Mira could only dream of, if only for a moment. He had been so different from the children she knew—so free, so unburdened by the weight of a destiny that had been thrust upon him. And he’d been twice as fast to fold his arms and reject it outright! She’d never seen anyone put their foot down the way he did.
Mira bit her lip, her gaze drifting to the small window of the temple, beyond which she could see the grand castle and the far-off lands stretching toward the sea. Soon, she would board the ship to <mark>Sadel-Hirsch</mark>, to the Royal Academy, where she would once again live in the shadow of her title. Maybe if people knew, they’d listen when she said she didn’t want what everyone had planned for her. Then again, <mark>Ysara</mark> had served for three generations of queens. She knew the cost of keeping them safe and the envy of men greedy for power.
That thought made her uneasy, but at the same time, it stirred something else inside her. Maybe, at the Academy, she could finally find something—someone—that would allow her to be something more than a secret. How many people went there? Hundreds… no, thousands! Everyone of nobility attended, and those who could afford it sent their children, too. It was the hub of education and opportunity she’d never known before. There had to be at least one or two people she could confide in who wouldn’t think twice of her title, and she could be herself for once. Her real self. The girl, the queen, the free.
A small, bitter smile tugged at the corner of her lips. <mark>Ysara</mark> was droning on again about the same tired expectation of obedience and silence. Safety was a must. Secrets were armor. And Mira was responsible for both. For a moment, she was almost jealous of Haros. His life, despite its pressures and expectations, seemed so… full. She heard stories from the acolytes who were privileged enough to go home on the weekends. Some lived in <mark>Ileom</mark> and <mark>G’hein</mark>, bordering Edithir and spent summers visiting the Capitol. They’d come back with stories about him, Haros. He had friends, freedom, choices. He had the luxury of running amok in Edithir without fear of what others might do to him if they knew the truth. No one cared that he was their prince. They only cared about the messes he left in his wake.
She had never known that kind of life.
The High Priestess’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “You should prepare. The ship will leave by sundown.”
Mira nodded, though the words barely registered. Instead, she found herself thinking of Haros once more, remembering how he had been forced to choose a partner that day in the <mark>Edithirian</mark> temple. He had rejected every girl they had presented to him, leaving his entire kingdom woefully disappointed. It was a tragedy, really, for no one had ever respected him for what he was: a boy who had the courage to choose his own path, even if it meant going against tradition.
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That was something she understood. She had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, imagining what it must have been like, knowing that his kingdom’s expectations weighed so heavily on him. Did he lay awake, too? Did he worry about his people the way she did? No, she inevitably decided. Haros wanted to be free, and that was something he wanted for himself and no one else. That came at the steep cost of his people seeing him as a failed prince before he ever had a chance to prove himself. It was unfair, but that’s how things always were for him… for her. They didn’t have the luxury of being allowed to have their own lives. They were born to serve.
And no one seemed to see that.
Mira rose from her seat and walked toward the door, <mark>Ysara</mark> on her heels with a detailed explanation of what to expect, but she hardly listened. The ship awaited her. The Academy awaited her. And perhaps, somewhere along the way, her path would lead somewhere other than back to the dusty old temple. Or at least she hoped so. She could never bear to think of her life culminating to nothing more than service to priestesses bent on traditions and order. She was a queen, the queen, and her life had to mean more than what <mark>Ysara</mark> seemed to think it was worth. Her mother had made it clear that somewhere out there, she was wanted. A prince waited for her, and he would come for her, find her, and she would be with him always. And wasn’t that everything she wanted? She’d never be alone again.
As she stepped out of the temple and into the cool evening air, Mira couldn’t help but feel a pang in her chest. This was her chance. Her shot at freedom, and everything depended on keeping her title a secret. It was only for a few years. She could handle that. Right? Maybe, she considered. Sooner or later, they’d know the truth. People would ask questions, and she’d slip up, but with any luck, it would be a long time before then. She’d be able to have friends, a life. Maybe she’d even be <mark>coronated</mark> <mark>publically</mark> before anyone knew the wiser. Yes, she decided, things would work out for the best and she’d be free the way Haros was with friends and chance to just her herself.
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The ship to <mark>Sadel-Hirsch</mark> was a vast and mighty beast, its sails billowing in the wind as it cut through the waves. Mira stood at the bow, staring out at the horizon, lost in thought. The wind tugged at her hair, and for a moment, she imagined what it might be like to truly be free, to leave behind the title of queen and become no one at all.
In the temple, no matter what they made her do, no one ever forgot she was their queen. It was just a rite she had to perform: scrubbing the floors, cooking in the kitchen, drying herbs, attending temple worship, washing the linens, being their servant girl. At least at the Academy, her duties were to study. And be no one.
She breathed in the sea air, and her mind wandered back to Haros as it too often did. The way he had looked at her when they first met—his brilliant blue eyes full of curiosity, of something more than just youthful recklessness. His smile was so genuine. She hadn’t seen him in two years, but somehow, she had always carried him with her, a flickering ember of something that could have been. A friend she had always wanted.
By morning, the ship docked at <mark>Sadel-Hirsch’s</mark> inlet bay just before the busiest part of the day started and the trade markets opened to the sound of loud bells. Mira was afforded little help unloading or finding her way. The city was alive with color and noise, the streets lined with people who bustled through their daily lives, unaware of who was in their midst. They knocked against her, and she bounced back and forth, following the stream of students and families headed toward the school perched on the hill ahead. She felt out of place among them, as if she were still that girl hidden behind the temple walls, trying to be something she wasn’t.
“No, they decided to stay home,” a girl said sadly.
“But it’s your first year!” another protested.
“They don’t care. If I were the oldest, they’d be here, but both of my sisters had to come early for senior sign-ins.” The girl groaned, leaning against her friend. “I guess they figure I’ll have them if I get lost.”
“Well, you have me, and I’m a second year,” her friend offered in a soothing tone, towing her away toward the front gates.
Mira held her breath as she quickened her step and followed them as best she could. As long as she made it to registration, everything would be fine. She would get her dormitory key—which was secured as a single room—and she’d meet her residential advisor for a tour before lunch. Then classes would start, and so would her life. As she came around the next bend, crossing the threshold of the school, something unexpected stirred within her—an excitement, a spark of something new. No one knew her. Not yet, anyway.
With a push and shove past people too tall to have noticed her—even if she was exceptionally small for her age—she came up to the front booth. It wasn’t much of a registration. It was more of an exchange of papers for more papers. And an envelope with her room key. The attendants weren’t exactly conversational and pointed her toward the main courtyard and dormitories. That was easy enough, she figured.
The crowds thinned as newcomers found their way to their assigned residence and families bid their students farewell. Mira checked her papers again and then, suddenly, stopped. There in the courtyard, being half-dragged by the back of his shirt by another boy, Haros laughed and twisted, desperate to escape if only in jest.
He had changed. He was taller now, his frame lean and wiry, no longer the boy she remembered. His face had thinned, losing some of the softness of youth already. His eyes—still as bright, still as full of life—caught hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.
Mira’s heart skipped a beat. It was a momentary thing, a rush of excitement she couldn’t quite explain. She had seen him before, but never like this. Yet she was certain she had dreamed of him, older still than he was now. And he was handsome.
She couldn’t help herself. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the stirrings of something more. Something complicated. Something dangerous. Her heart leaped into her throat as he lifted a hand, waving to her and his friends settled in at his side, confused about how he could have known anyone they didn’t know. Mira bit her bottom lip and meekly waved back.
There was no good explanation for what she felt, and she certainly didn’t know why she felt the way she did or what would come of it, but as she looked at Haros, something deep within her shifted.
And in that instant, she realized she hadn’t just missed him. She had been waiting for him.