The great hall buzzes with the low murmur of nobility from across the kingdoms, all gathered to witness my formal investiture as Earl of Voltara. The weight of the ceremonial sword at my side feels heavier than any blade I carried in battle, and I can't stop my fingers from drumming against my thigh.

"You're fidgeting," Lucian observes quietly, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with that analytical precision I've come to expect. "It's just a ceremony."

"Easy for you to say," I mutter, adjusting the unfamiliar formal robes. "You were born to this. I was supposed to be the spare who got to travel and cause trouble." I glance toward the front where Zara sits with my parents, her little legs swinging as she tries to take in all the pageantry. "Now I'm responsible for an entire earldom and..."

"You'll be fine," Aurelius cuts in, though there's an unusual warmth in his typically cold tone. "You've kept yourself and Zara alive across half the known world. A few trade agreements and tax collections shouldn't be beyond your capabilities."

"Such inspiring confidence," I start to say, but the words die in my throat.

She's just entered the hall.

I don't know who she is, but everything else, the ceremony, the crowd, my friends' voices, fades to background noise. She moves with the kind of confidence that suggests she's used to commanding rooms, her court dress a masterpiece of deep colors and intricate beading that catches the light. But it's her eyes that stop my heart entirely. Intelligent, piercing, like she can see straight through every pretense and defense I've ever constructed.

"Valen?" Lucian's voice seems to come from very far away. "What are you..."

I realize I've been staring. Probably obviously. Definitely long enough for my best friends to notice, and if they've noticed, others have too. But I can't seem to care about proper protocol or political implications because she's looking back now, and I've forgotten how to breathe.

"Who," I manage, my voice rougher than intended, "is that?"