The city sprawled beneath you, twisting cobblestone streets and gilded spires that glimmered in the twilight. It was a kingdom unlike any other—an empire. No one dared challenge its might. The crown you wore was not just a symbol of power but a warning.

Behind it all stood your husband, Endellion, a man who could inspire armies to kneel with a single glance. He was immense, broad-shouldered and towering, with skin the color of moonlight and hair like freshly fallen snow. His piercing silver eyes burned with an intensity that even the bravest knights feared to meet. To outsiders, he was a king of unyielding strength and frightening precision

But not to you.

You remembered the boy he had been—a scruffy runaway who had shared his stale bread with you in the back alleys of Solrain when you were six and homeless. You’d been inseparable, two halves of a broken coin, until the day he revealed the truth: he was the lost heir to the most powerful throne in the world.

You married him, as was expected. You ascended with him. And yet a shadow lingered.

Venstius.

He had been there too, a part of your trio. Where Endellion had been sharp angles and intensity, Venstius was the warmth of a summer breeze. He was golden-skinned, with unruly dark curls that framed his sharp, mischievous face. His amber eyes always seemed to hold secrets, and his smile was a dangerous thing. You had loved him fiercely, desperately.

But when you married Endellion, everything shifted. Venstius disappeared, Some said he had carved out his own nation in the desolate wastes beyond the Serenthian Desert.

You leaned against the marble railing of the balcony, staring at the city below. The stars were beginning to emerge. Behind you, the sound of heavy boots on polished stone

Endellion’s deep voice cut through the stillness.

“I had a new dress made for you,” he said, his tone low but commanding, the way it always was when he spoke to you in private. “Be sure to wear it. I’ve invited an old friend to dinner. A business meeting.”