Fourth Month— Balle, Day 7

Verinia blinked, looking down at the stub of candle in her hands, so deformed from what it had been when she'd lit its wick. Melted wax hardened where it had poured over her frozen fingers. The fiery drops left nothing to prove their heat on the skin where they fell.

With a heavy sigh, she squatted to place the remaining bit of her candle amongst all the others on the ground lining both sides of the hall.

Another twinkling light in the Hall of Dynasty. One more testament to an immortality that did not exist.

"Peace, mother."

The princess gazed up to the monumental statue of the late Su'Ailfi Ravena Hellfryne. The beautiful face captured in stone carried a dignified expression against the glow of the flames.

Verinia soothed a waxed hand over her tight heart, as though she could physically remove the pain by doing so.

Ten turns of the twin suns, yet the diadem still weighed heavy on her head, taking her life and exposing it to the mercy of no one.

It was her duty to endure, as stated by tradition. Being the eldest, closest and unmarried female relative of the Sovereign, the task came to her upon her mother's untimely demise.

The responsibility fell on her shoulders like a stone would fall from the head of a mountain, but there was nothing to be done of it.

Her discomfort was small in the grand scheme of destiny, after all.

The princess left the crypt feeling sullen, as she always did when visiting the statue of the Su'Ailfi.

It wasn't the lack of peace that made her expression turn grim or her eyes dull to an unremarkable gold tint. It wasn't the hurt of her heart, either. It was the reminder of who she was—what she meant to the continent.

The blistering reminder that struck her in the face the moment she ascended from the depths of the Hall of Dynasty.

"Greetings, Su'Adrit!"

"Greetings to our Sovereign Serenity."

"Su'Adrit," Verinia's protector greeted flatly as he began to walk along the arcade of the Burial Palace's court by her side. His face had a blank expression and a faint twist of disdain curling the corners of his mouth.

"You look like you've swallowed something bitter," she said with a smile.

"Su'ira Chamberlain is electing new handmaids." Sur Ka'iser's expression darkened further until it resembled the pit of a volcano. "They're an enthusiastic bunch."

"Your heroic deeds would stop any maiden's heart, my valiant Sur."

The knight shot her a venomous glare from the corner of his eyes, provoking her laughter entirely at his expense.

Sur Ka'iser's mood seemed to go entirely south when he heard the sound. He had no choice but to sulk in silence and match her pace step-for-step as they traversed through the palace grounds.

The princess often found herself wondering how the knight could be so silent with his hulking armour and the heavy sword sheathed to his side, but she supposed that those of the Sovereign Guard were trained in ways superior to the other military orders of the continent.

Sur Ka'iser escorted her to the library of the Benevolence Palace, then bowed to take his leave.

Verinia watched his retreating back with a slack expression. Once again, the man who was supposed to be risking his life to keep her safe just ship and dipped her to trot off and do who knows what!

She shot a look at Sur Ka'iser's back and pushed open the heavy wooden doors with an indignant huff. The rotten cad!

Inside the library, a girl aged thirteen was sitting by a wide window, delicately drinking a herbal brew as she read with her nose stuck half way through the pages of a wooden bound book in her hands, no doubt the latest tale in print of some riveting love affair, complete with sacrifice and gut-wrenching passion.

In front of the girl, perched neatly on the varnished table, the many hollow chisels of faces were acutely ignored in favour of the book.

Verinia took a seat opposite the girl and waited glumly as a maid began to serve her a cup of brew as well.

"You haven't slept." The young girl flipped the page in her book without looking up. "Have you been up all night reading or…?"

The First Princess smiled small at her youngest sister, ignoring the pang in her palms from the heat of the cup. "Is it so obvious?"

She added one saccharine crystal to her brew, cream and stirred five times.

"Obvious," the Third Princess echoed in a gentle murmur. Her eyes were nailed to the words of the book in her hands.

"What selection of gentlemen lies before us today?"

"The chivalrous swashbucklers of House Darienis." Syvia finally closed her book with an irate snap and set it aside to pick up the hollow carving of a face. Her eyes coldly skimmed the appearance of the chisel before disinterestedly moving on to another.

The faces were from the collection of chisels Su'na Joss Darienis had given for the purpose of scrutiny. All the Su'ne of the council had generously given a collection of their bachelor's chisels for the Third Princess, of which House Anthipeia had been displayed the day before.

"What is it?" Verinia asked, seeing the unhappiness so clearly in her sister's face. The source of it was no mystery.

Syvia looked out of the window and sipped her brew. "I had hoped to match with a Velnue."

"You can't have a preference, Syv."

"I knew you would say that."

The First Princess frowned. "Father would like you to marry a head of house."

"Of course he would," the girl murmured drily, setting down the chisel in her hand to pick up another. "I can't have anything I want."

Verinia's eyebrows rose and she swallowed the words in her mouth. She wanted to recall how, as the youngest daughter of the first wife, the Sovereign doted on her more than his other children.

There was nothing Syvia could ask for that would not be granted.

But she said nothing of this matter. Verinia smiled in a bleak attempt to comfort her. "At least you won't have to marry sole old blood."

"But I can't marry null blood and I can't prefer a Velnue." The Third Princess turned her head back down to look at the table. A golden sheen appeared from her hair against the natural light of the world, a trait reserved only for the pure-blooded Hellfryne.

In the palace, only the sovereign family had this trait.

Verinia sighed softly, sympathetic to her sister's fate. She herself would one day be in the same place, when her husband would be chosen for her.

The only difference was, no one would sympathise with her when such a time arrived. At least, in this way, Syvia would have some semblance of choice.

"Will you be looking for Neska's husband soon?"

"I already have someone in mind for the Fifth princess."

Syvia looked at her eldest sister suspiciously. "Who?"

Verinia said nothing. She knew that her young sister wouldn't be satisfied with being left in suspense, but it was not her intention to torture her in such a way. She simply had not finalised the betrothal for the Fifth Princess, so she chose discretion until the matter was set in stone.

Of course, Syvia began to conjure up the wildest of speculations. After all, she and Adrit Neska were love rivals pining after the same young man.

How could she possibly be obedient and not question her sister when that ugly witch had the possibility of stealing the man she loved?

"Is it Iander Velnue? It's him, isn't it?"

The Third Princess slumped back into her chair with both hands clutching the chest of her dress. Her little face was twisted into the pained expression of an infatuated young lady whose heart had been broken by a fiend.

It was a convincing performance.

"How could you do this to me?" Syvia's big eyes watered charmingly and her nose turned red. "Why can that hag marry Iander but I can't?"

"Because your children contend for the throne and hers don't," Verinia replied calmly, further rubbing salt into Syvia's bleeding heart. "Iander Velnue is not a son of the Head of House."

"But he is so handsome!"

The First Princess was amused by her sister's spoilt behaviour. If it weren't for the fact that she knew her like her own child, Syvia would have been able to fool anyone into thinking that she truly thought this way.

With the wits of a cloud.

Neither of the young women knew how much time had passed, nor when they had drifted from the topic of marriages to the hunt their father had been painstakingly planning.

They didn't know why he would decide to host such an event, especially when there was nothing for them to celebrate. It was a strange development indeed but the Su'Datheram had been tight of the lips about it.