Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. - Nicole Krauss (The History of Love)
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“My lord, we’ve arrived.”
Hamilton Nightray looked up from the book that he was reading, even as the carriage came to a stop. His lips quirked slightly when he caught sight of his sleeping five-year-old daughter, curled up comfortably on the opposite seat under his black cloak, with just her dark hair peeking out from under the cloak, with the rays of the sun that were streaming in from the carriage’s windows, catching the purple highlights visible in her hair.
The carriage door opened to reveal one of House Nightray’s stewards, dressed in the House’s colours of black and silver, with the House’s emblem of a silver wolf head gleaming on his shoulder. The steward bowed politely. “Should I…?” He gestured towards the heiress, and Hamilton shook his head.
“I’ll do it,” he said, gently rousing the little girl. “Sweetheart? Wake up. We’re here.”
Yuliana Nightray opened her eyes immediately with the slightest touch. She relaxed when she recognised her father, holding out her arms to him. He lifted her easily, draping his cloak over his shoulders as he did so, stepping out of the carriage. Hamilton nodded to the steward, who saluted and got back onto the driver’s seat, shaking the reins of the horse to move the carriage elsewhere.
“Are we here?” Yuliana murmured sleepily, rubbing at her eyes.
“We are.” Hamilton placed the little girl down onto the ground beside him. One of the House’s maids had dressed their heiress the best to their ability the moment that Hamilton had received the missive early that morning, even before the sun had broken out over the horizon.
Her boots were a size too large, probably borrowed from one of the House’s older children. She is dressed in a simple dark blue shirt with black pants, with her dark hair tied back into twin braids, bound with dark silk.
“You remember what I told you?” Hamilton asked, kneeling to meet his daughter’s eyes, brushing off some invisible lint on her shoulders.
“We’re going to meet the king. Be polite and speak only when spoken to,” Yulia recited. “I remember, Father.”
Hamilton nodded before rising to his full height, holding his daughter by the hand. “All right. Come on.”
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The double doors opened with a creak, the carved surfaces etched with the twin-headed golden lion crest of the Kingdom of Alathia, with the burnished gold catching the light of the high chandeliers above.
“Presenting, Lord Hamilton Nightray and his heiress, Lady Yuliana Nightray,” The court crier called out.
Yuliana Nightray stared with wide eyes, taking in everything at once. She’d never left Evershade before, the ancient, mist-draped stronghold of House Nightray. And even then, life is quiet there, even for the lord and his family. Almost humble.
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Sunlight streamed in from the stained-glass windows, spilling fractured colours onto the polished marble floor that gleamed so brightly that one can almost see their reflections within. A long red carpet stretched ahead like a path in the middle of the audience chamber, leading to a raised dais at the far end of the hall. Upon it stood two magnificent golden thrones, gleaming beneath the light.
Yulia tightened her grip on her father’s fingers as they approached the thrones. Still, her back remained straight, with her head held high, recalling all her father’s lessons and instructions when he’d told her that they would be meeting the royal family of Alathia today.
When Hamilton came to a halt before the thrones, Yulia stepped forward and bowed—not like a child, but like a soldier, recalling all her etiquette lessons. Her back bent low, and her arms tucked precisely at her sides, just like she was taught, with every motion measured and precise.
Back bent low, and arms tucked neatly when you’re meeting a royal, Gareth’s words echoed in her mind. When meeting someone from a noble house, you incline your head slightly, my lady. The Ten Great Houses are the pillars of Alathia, and House Nightray is amongst them. There is no one ranked higher than us, except for the royal family.
King Edric von Aubere watched from atop the raised dais, seated upon the golden throne, like a fox wrapped in velvet. His robes were the crimson red of the Alathian royal family. A golden crown rested atop his black hair, already streaked with white. His smile was too thin, too smooth, and a much too pleased expression curved slowly across his face.
“So this is your daughter, Hamilton?” King Edric mused, his voice smooth with fondness that somehow felt too practised.
Yulia chanced a peek, taking in the king with all his glamour and finery—the kind of man who smiled too easily, but whose gaze never warmed. Beside him sat a regal-looking woman with silver hair.
Queen Lysandra, Yulia recalled her from her lessons.
Calm and clever, she is said to be, with a will like that of steel to match the king’s fire. She wore crimson, too, regal and beautiful in her dress, her dark blue eyes resting on Yulia, with a flicker of something in her eyes before it disappeared as soon as it appeared.
“Yes. This is Yuliana,” Hamilton responded, his grip tightening protectively over his daughter’s.
“I haven’t seen her since she was a baby,” King Edric said, chuckling softly. “Hello there.”
Yulia dipped another small bow. “H-Hello, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice quiet. Her voice is steady, betraying none of her unease.
This king… He seems rather scary… His smiles are fake.
The king smiled at Yulia, but those smiles never reached his eyes. “Shy, are you?”
Yulia took half a step back, her small form pressing partially behind her father’s cloak. Queen Lysandra hasn’t spoken a word since Hamilton and Yulia had entered the audience chamber. She merely watched the pair, the only change in her expression being that of her eyes.
The eyes are the windows to a person’s soul, my lady, Yulia recalled one of the House members telling her once. You can always tell who is lying if you know how to read the eyes.
Then, the king’s expression shifted. His smile faded, and his expression became colder. Yulia tightened her tiny fingers into her father’s cloak.
“Well…” King Edric said, looking at Queen Lysandra before turning his gaze back to Hamilton. “I apologise for summoning you here so suddenly, Hamilton. It’s a rather spur-of-the-moment thing.” He chuckled at some joke. “But my queen thought that it would be a good idea for your daughter to be introduced to my son. The Crown Prince should know his future guardian.”
Yulia’s eyes were wide when she comprehended the words from the king.
The Crown Prince…
Everyone in the kingdom knew that the queen had given birth to the heir of the throne. But the prince’s identity and his name had been kept secret under Alathian law. The heir to the throne was never publicly named until they turned nine to prevent assassination attempts, as Gareth had explained.
The Crown Prince should be around her age, from what was said.
“The Crown Prince…?” Yulia whispered into the folds of her father’s cloak, but the king heard her and regarded her with sharp eyes before relaxing just a moment later.
“Yes. He should be about your age. Probably just a few months older.” King Edric said.
He then snapped his fingers, gesturing towards a member of the Crownsguard who stood nearby—the personal protection detail of Alathia’s royal family. The man was wearing the black and gold uniform of the Crownsguard—trimmed, crisp, and dangerous-looking.
He stepped forward with a bow.
“Show them to the prince’s wing.” King Edric ordered.
“At once, Your Majesty.” The Crownsguard bowed once more before straightening. “This way, my lord, my lady.” He gestured towards the grand doors of the audience chamber.
Hamilton then bowed low once more to the royal couple, as did Yulia, imitating his actions. Then, together, hand in hand, both of them followed the Crownsguard, departing the audience chamber in silence, with the massive doors shutting behind them.
