In the Liraen Border Forest

The sky was dim, and the shadows of the trees hung like spears. Zafira drew her bow slowly, her eyes tracking the trail of the deer that had not been killed. Her brother was far ahead; her steps were too fast for the stillness of the day.

The wind carried an unfamiliar scent—not blood, not earth. Smoke?

She approached, weaving through the low brush. Beyond the trees, a large campfire was visible, tents were close together, and strange men were speaking in a language she did not recognize.

Zafira's brow furrowed. It wasn't Liraen's army. Before she could retreat, a hand covered her mouth from behind. Strong arms pulled her behind a tree.

"You're peeking too closely," the man whispered, his voice flat but almost amused.

Zafira struggled. But his gaze froze her. His eyes—dark, calm, unwavering.

"I am not an enemy," he continued. "My name is Arel, a guest from the kingdom of Altavar. We have been invited to your engagement party, Princess Zafira."

Zafira was stunned. "Do you know who I am?"

"I know many things," she said with a thin smile. "Including that we are standing on border land, and you are alone."

Zafira gritted her teeth. But she had no choice but to let him lead her to the campfire.

She didn't know yet.

The man—was not an envoy. He was Kael Azhari, the enemy King who would soon conquer everything. Including her.