Krezin sat on the edge of the settee and stared into the mirror with the stubborn patience of a boy trying to win a war by annoyance alone.

  Kairi, to her credit, ignored him.

  The maids were fussing over her hair with reverence that made his skin itch. Ribbons. Bows. Jeweled pins that caught the light like small trapped stars. They’d curled her brown hair into perfect spirals that did not belong to his sister, not really. His Kairi climbed walls and came back with grass stains on her knees. His Kairi laughed too loud when she got away with something. This girl in the mirror looked like someone carved from careful.

  He looked away, expression souring, and tugged at the collar of his own ceremonial attire. He’d been wrestled into it earlier with threats that sounded suspiciously like prayers.

  If you dare take this off…

  If you get this dirty…

  His mother’s voice. His father’s agreement. Their combined certainty that fabric mattered enough to be feared.

  Dragonfire to all of it.

  With a long suffering sigh, he let himself fall back onto the settee in dramatic surrender.

  The maids startled, hands jerking, pins clicking softly as they caught themselves before jabbing his sister’s scalp. A small muffled laugh escaped Kairi.

  Krezin grinned at the ceiling, pleased with himself.

  As soon as the ceremony was over, there would be a ball. A proper royal celebration for the youngest of House Shadow. Blessed or not, they would drink the good stuff and let the night erase the tightness in their chests.

  Well. He would.

  Kairi would do her best to look like a princess made of grace and good decisions. Other nations would be here tonight, and Kairi would be expected to be… impressive. Trinity would be there too, shining like the blade she was, weaving through nobles from Naberia, Saebria, the island nations, and those further still.

  Trinity’s courting season would begin within the year.

  The entire city would rally behind her and watch how she dismissed one suitor after another. The gambling halls were eager for it, for the betting boards and the loud money that always followed public trials of pride. They loved Trinity’s sharpness. Loved watching men fall over themselves trying to prove they were worth her attention.

  Krezin closed his eyes and pictured it, and the thought left a faint ache in his chest he didn’t want to name.

  Trinity would choose someone eventually.

  And that someone might take her far away.

  Because Rush was the heir… not Trinity.

  His mind reached for the next thought, the one that always followed, and he hated it enough that he cut it off mid-breath.

  A hand grabbed his sleeve and tugged him upright.

  He let Kairi pull him without resistance, blinking back into the moment. When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him with a look that said she’d been ignoring him on purpose until she decided he’d had enough time to sulk.

  “Now look at this,” he said, gesturing toward the ornate tangle of fabric, laces, and ceremonial perfection they’d tied onto her. “Can you even breathe in that thing?”

  Kairi glanced at him, then looked him up and down with slow appraisal.

  “Can you even move in that outfit?” she shot back.

  Krezin stood and exaggerated his mobility like a street performer trying to win coins. He lifted his arms. Twisted at the waist. Took two dramatic steps. “Perfectly enough to run out of the temple once this ceremony is done.”

  Kairi scoffed and looked down at herself. “Then you can practice carrying me out when you run.”

  Krezin straightened, using his height like a weapon as he looked down at her. “Are you asking for a rescue?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Krez.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He smiled and reached for one of the curls the maids had made too perfect. He twirled it gently around his finger, careful not to ruin it, because he liked teasing Kairi more than he liked suffering her wrath.

  “You know I would never leave you behind,” he murmured.

  Something softened in her expression. Not fear. Not yet. Just the hush that came when they remembered what the day meant.

  Kairi stepped closer and began adjusting him the way she always did, fussy in the way only someone who loved you could be. She smoothed his doublet. Straightened the shoulder cape. Lifted the chain that clipped across his chest and settled it properly.

  “Kairi,” he said quietly, and all the mockery drained from his voice.

  She paused. He waited until she finally looked up at him.

  Her eyes were bright. Too bright. Like she’d packed courage into them because she didn’t know where else to put it.

  “We should go,” he said gently. “If you’re ready.”

  Kairi took a deep breath and glanced toward the door.

  Their guards waited there, patient and still, like the temple demanded silence even from people made for violence. Rook, in Ash Guard gray with the calm of someone who had seen too much. Juniper beside him, posture straight, eyes sharp and kind in the same breath. Both of them temple guards here to escort them.

  Krezin held his arm out.

  Kairi took it without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  They stepped into the hall together, and their guards fell into place behind them.

  The great hall doors loomed ahead like the mouth of a story.

  Krezin’s gaze caught on the dragon motif carved into the wood, scales cut with such detail it looked like it might breathe if the torchlight hit it right. His stomach tightened. He told himself it was excitement.

  Beside him, Kairi’s eyes had locked on a different carving.

  The phoenix.

  Krezin nudged her lightly. When she looked at him, he mouthed the word:

  Smile.

  Kairi’s hardened focus softened. She nodded once, and turned her attention back to the doors as the muffled prayers of the priests drifted through the seams.

  Rook and Juniper moved forward, slow and ceremonial, and began to pull the great doors open.

  The sound was huge. Wood against stone. A hinge protesting. The world rearranging itself.

  Krezin forced his nerves back down. He held his elbow out.

  Kairi took it immediately.

  Together they walked into the main chamber of the temple.

  The air inside was warmer than outside, heavy with incense and old stone. The chamber was crowded with nobility, priests, and those chosen to witness. A hundred eyes turned toward them, and for a moment Krezin felt the weight of them all like hands.

  He focused on the carved circle on the floor.

  The sacred gate. The place where gods decided whether you mattered.

  See one of us, he thought fiercely, though he didn’t know who he was pleading to. See anything worthwhile.

  They stepped into the circle. Silence swallowed them whole.

  And later, he would remember this room.

  He would remember the faces. He would remember which smiles were too polished to be real. He would remember how betrayal had looked harmless.

  But that was later.

  For now, the circle flared.

  Magic licked along the carvings like light racing along a fuse, and sudden fear punched through Krezin’s ribs so hard it almost stole his breath.

  Something massive pressed into the air. His eyes darted up.

  And before him, the shape of a dragon began to materialize. Not a statue. Not a story. Not a symbol.

  A real thing.

  Deep black onyx. A foot the size of a banquet table stepping into the circle. Claws biting stone without sound. Wings folding in close enough to make the world feel smaller. Its gaze landed on him.

  And Krezin, who had mocked lessons and rules and ceremony, stood very still as if his body had remembered how to be prey.

  A voice filled the circle, ancient and heavy.

  Kin of my Vessel. You quake in my presence.

  Krezin’s throat worked. He nodded once, small and controlled, refusing to break eye contact.

  The dragon lowered itself, and its wings wrapped around the circle, blocking the crowd’s view. The chamber vanished behind a wall of darkness and heat.

  For a moment, Krezin felt like he was alone with it.

  Do you feel unworthy? the dragon asked. There is doubt.

  Krezin swallowed.

  “My worth is not something I set for myself,” he said, voice steady enough to surprise him. “My worth is measured by others.”

  The dragon laughed.

  A gravel-deep bark, sharp and almost… amused.

  It lowered its long neck, tilting so one molten-gold eye filled Krezin’s world. The color inside it looked wrong, like fire and sky had been trapped together. Like a galaxy caught behind glass. He would have never thought there would be blue mixed in with the gold.

  Then the dragon’s gaze slid to the side.

  Krezin followed it.

  And there, wrapped around Kairi’s shoulders, was the Phoenix.

  Not a bird you could point at and describe. Not feathers and bone.

  It was a sunset remembering it had a shape. Fire deciding to be gentle. Light curling around Kairi’s neck like an embrace.

  Kairi was smiling. She was laughing softly, eyes shining as if something in her had finally found its place in the world.

  The dragon’s voice rumbled again.

  Kin of my Vessel.

  Krezin forced his gaze back to the dragon.

  It blinked slowly, then lifted one clawed hand.

  A single extended talon pressed against Krezin’s chest and dragged lightly up to his shoulder… then down his left arm, slow and deliberate, as if writing a sentence into his skin.

  Heat followed the path like ink made of flame.

  The branding came a heartbeat later, sharp enough that his breath hitched.

  Krezin’s hand flew to his chest on instinct, fingers splaying over the burn as if he could hold it in place.

  The dragon watched him.

  And for the briefest second, in the stillness that followed, Krezin thought it looked… sad.

  Not regretful. Not hesitant. Sad like something that knew the future.

  Krezin didn’t understand it then.

  He didn’t want to. Not yet.

  He swallowed the question and lifted his chin, pretending he was brave enough not to wonder what the blessing demanded in return.

  Because later…

  Later, he would understand.

  He would understand what he was expected to do.