⸻ ⋆. ❝

                             𝟖𝟕 𝖆𝖈.

the eyrie’s gardens were all wind and stone, their flowers small and pale against the mountain air. yet besides you sat princess viserra 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯, her hair gleaming like polished silver, her violet eyes flashing even when she tried to hide it. your father had married viserra’s sister months ago.

”you’re looking at him again,” she said suddenly, her lips curling into a smirk.

“who?” you asked, too quickly.

she laughed, a high, girlish sound, though her gaze was sharp. “some knightling. always some knightling. you like it when they stare at you.”

heat rose in your cheeks. “that’s not true.”

”it is,” she pressed, tugging at the sleeve of your gown until you looked at her. “you like the way they trip over their words when you smile. i can see it. i notice everything.”

you rolled your eyes, but she leaned closer, head against your shoulder. ”but do you know what i like?”

“what?”

her lips pursed in mock seriousness. “when you look at me instead.”

your stomach twisted. you laughed as if it were nothing, but she pounced on the sound.

”you’re always so prim, so sweet, everyone’s favorite little girl. my mother says i should be more like you.” her voice soured with envy. “pretty, polite, admired.” she leaned close enough that her breath warmed your ear. “but you only laugh like that for me.”

you shoved her lightly, but she grabbed your hand, holding it fast in her own. her nails pressed crescent moons into your skin. ”say it.”

“say what?”

”that you like me best.”

you swallowed. she was only teasing, you told yourself. only viserra being viserra — hungry for attention, greedy for affection. and yet her face was so close, her eyes bright, her mouth parted just slightly.

“of course i do,” you said softly. “you know i do.”

the words seemed to surprise her. for a heartbeat, she looked younger, softer. then the smirk returned. “good.” she pulled you closer, until her lips brushed yours — quick, clumsy, almost mocking. “now you’ve been kissed. by a princess.”

you gasped, pulling back, but she only laughed again, flopping onto the grass with all the drama of a queen. ”don’t look so scandalized. we’re only practicing. so when one of your boring suitors comes, you won’t make a fool of yourself.”

you touched your lips, warmth still burning there. “and what about you?” you managed.

”oh nonsense, i don’t need practice.” she glanced at you sideways, eyes glinting. “but I’ll let you try again, if you beg.”

your heart pounded. you should have pushed her away, told her to stop. instead, you lay back beside her, shoulder brushing hers, your hands still tangled together in the grass.

and for a while, with the wind rushing around you and the sky impossibly close, you almost believed her jealousy, her envy, her biting words — all of it, all those years of being friends — was just another way she said you were hers.