Chapter 24: The Gathering Before the Storm

Following a servant’s lead, they were brought to a surrounded outdoor area where lanterns hung above, their soft light glowing against marble fountains and hedges trimmed into elegant patterns. The air was cooler here, carrying faint notes of roses and grass. The gentle trickle of water mixed with the occasional flutter of wings from doves roosting among the stone arches. Nobles clustered in small groups across the garden, some taking a place at benches, others staying out of the way, conversing in tones far more relaxed than in the dining hall. It was clear that this was the setting meant for polite introductions — and subtle sizing up of rivals.

Lucina and Solan were quickly drawn into discussion with Lord and Lady Eclestia near the fountain, leaving the twins to linger a short distance away.

“Go on,” Lucina whispered gently, leaning close enough for only them to hear. “This is where you’ll learn who these people are.”

Lea bit her lip, smoothing the skirt of her pale gown. The fabric shimmered faintly beneath the lantern light, but all she could think about was how stiff her movements felt compared to the effortless grace of the other noble children. Leo straightened his bowtie, tugging it once as though it might strangle him if he stood too still. Both of them tried not to stare too long at the unfamiliar faces, though every passing glance reminded them just how out of place they felt.

It didn’t take long before one of them noticed.

A boy, perhaps fourteen years old, with broad shoulders and dark hair cropped short, approached with a deliberate stride. His black coat bore the unmistakable crest of a clawed bear paw. He stopped before Leo, looking him up and down with a faint smirk.

“So you’re the Kazantrias?” he said with a smirk. “I was wondering if the rumors were true that Lord Solan actually had children hidden away in the forests of Endlost.”

Leo blinked. His hands tightened at his sides. “We weren’t hidden. We just… don’t leave the forest often.”

The boy gave a short laugh, the sound edged with mockery. “It shows. You cut your meat like a farmer, not a noble.”

Heat rushed to Leo’s face. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet the boy’s eyes. “What does it matter how I eat?”

The boy’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Hah. Spoken like someone who’s never sat at a high table before. Remember the name—Orven Bentriets. And if you’re bold enough, we’ll see whose house truly raises the stronger heir one day.”

Before Leo could muster a reply, Orven turned away, leaving the words to linger like a challenge written in stone.

Wow even in this world jackasses will be mean to you for just existing. Awesome 

Lea’s attention was drawn to a figure gliding past her. A young woman, possibly fifteen, stopped with a graceful tilt of her head. Her lush green hair cascaded like silk around her face and back, and on her matcha green dress at the waist gleamed a silver brooch shaped like a coiled serpent. She regarded Lea with eyes that seemed both amused and appraising.

“You must be Lea,” she said smoothly. “I am Selina of House Valerian. Your gown suits you… though it could use finer stitching.”

Lea’s face went flushed, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or insult. “Thank you… I think.”

Selina’s lips curved faintly. “Don’t worry, I mean no harm. I only wondered how you might carry yourself when spoken to. Nobility is not just birth, but bearing.” She spoke in a posh, deliberate voice that carried no wasted syllable.

“I’m still getting used to it,” Lea admitted softly.

“Hm.” Selina’s gaze swept her once more. “Better to know you have room to grow than to pretend you’re already perfect.” With that, she glided past, leaving Lea both unsettled and oddly motivated, her words lingering like a sharp-edged lesson.

From across the garden came another voice. Firm, and pretentious. “House Eclestia greets House Kazantria.”

The pale-looking boy from earlier walked up to the twins. He had sharp features and piercing eyes, he stood with his hands folded behind his back. On his shoulder he bore a silver eagle badge. His posture alone radiated pride, as though every breath he drew was a declaration.

“I am Darius, Lord Eclestia’s grandson,” he announced. “It is only fair that we acknowledge each other, as our families’ names will echo together in history.”

Leo muttered under his breath, “Do you always talk like a proclamation?”

Darius’s eyes narrowed slightly, his pale features tightening. “Do you always answer like a peasant?”

If he’s acting all energetic like this now, I wonder why last night he looked to be on death’s doorstep… or is he always this pale? Lea wondered.

Before the tension could thicken further, a sound came from across the garden.

From the shadows near the archway, a figure stepped into the lantern light. A youth clad in black, his coat marked with the sigil of a gryphon. His hair was jet-dark, his expression unreadable. He did not greet them, nor offer introduction. He merely cast a measured glance over the gathering, his eyes briefly locking on the twins, then turned away to stand alone beneath the arch.

“Drakenhart…” Orven muttered, his earlier bravado fading slightly. “Always watching, never speaking.”

Leo and Lea exchanged a glance, both feeling the same cold prickle. Whoever that was, he seemed more dangerous in silence than all the others with their words.

Shortly after came someone whom they hadn’t seen before. Another man with shoulder-length dark red hair, he was the only one to approach Lord Drakenhart, who stood leaning against a wall. He wore a black and white suit and was the only one of them wearing glasses.

Maybe only the richer people like the nobles can afford to get them because I don’t remember ever seeing someone with glasses here, Leo thought, staring toward the two men.

The conversations in the garden buzzed on, nobles mingled and shared their ideas, but to the twins this was no simple gathering. It was the opening of a stage where rivals, allies, and threats would all be settled.

The next day, the palace staff had granted the nobles freedom to roam within its walls during the days leading up to the coronation. For the Kazantrias, it was the first time they truly walked the halls without an escort at their side.

The twins could hardly keep their eyes from darting to every corner. Ceilings rose higher than they thought possible, painted with sprawling murals of gods, heroes, and the founding of Ronayah. Huge windows spilled daylight across marble floors so polished that their own faint reflections trailed beneath them. Guards stood at nearly every doorway, swords sheathed but hands never straying far from the hilts. Their gazes swept the corridors with vigilance, sharp enough that even Leo, brash as he was, hesitated to breathe too loudly.

“This place feels… different than home,” Lea whispered as they walked. “It’s so incredible.”

Her brother glanced at the nearest armored guard, who stood so still it was as if he was carved from stone.

Lucina slowed her steps, her long gown trailing against the floor. “Stay close. The palace is safe, but tension still runs high. The guards have not rested since the King and Queen’s passing.”

They eventually crossed into the outer gardens. The air shifted here, it was quiet and heavy, almost sacred. A path of white stone led to a secluded grove, where marble tombs stood in a neat line. Each was engraved with the Phoenix crest, and fresh flowers lay at their bases. Candles flickered even in daylight, their smoke curling softly into the air.

The twins stopped short when they noticed a figure already kneeling before the two central tombs. A girl, about their age, draped in a pale gown embroidered with crimson thread. Her golden hair shimmered faintly in the sun, and though her head was bowed, they could tell who she was.

Princess Luminaria.

For a moment, no one spoke. The girl’s lips moved faintly, whispering words they could not hear. Only when she finished her silent prayer did she rise, smoothing her gown as she stood. The princess turned to catch sight of them.

“You’re… House Kazantria.” Her voice was soft, almost uncertain.

Lucina inclined her head respectfully. “Yes, Your Highness. Forgive us if we intrude. We only wish to pay our respects.”

The princess shook her head lightly. “You are not intruding. Please.” Her gaze shifted to the twins. “You must be Leo and Lea.”

The children straightened instinctively. “Yes, Your Highness,” Lea said quickly, her voice small.

Luminaria studied them a moment longer. She did not smile, but her eyes softened. “I’m glad you came.”

Lucina and Solan quietly withdrew to a bench under a tree, giving the young ones space. The twins stood awkwardly until the princess gestured to the graves beside her.

“These are my parents,” she said quietly. “The last time I saw them alive… it was so ordinary. I never thought it would be the last time…” Her fingers curled against her dress. “I can still hear their voices when I close my eyes. And the recent memories of when my mother would brush my hair before bed.”

Lea’s heart ached. “I… I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “No one our age should lose something like that.”

Luminaria gave a faint nod. “And yet, I must stand. The crown passes to me whether I wish it or not. The Phoenix must rise once more.” Her gaze rose to the sky, gray clouds drifting across. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Leo clenched his fists. “If anything were to happen again I’ll raise my sword for you, princess.”

Luminaria blinked at him, then gave the smallest of smiles. “You sound braver than most grown men in these halls if I’m being honest,” she replied with a tear in her eye.

Lea stepped forward, voice softer. “You won’t be alone. We’ll stand with you,” she said patting the princess on her back as she lined in for a hug.

The moment felt heartwarming to them all. The three children, barely old enough to call themselves grown, stood before the graves of the late monarchs, speaking of burdens far larger than themselves. And yet, in that quiet corner of the palace, they understood one another.

From the bench, Lucina watched, her hand brushing Solan’s. His eyes narrowed faintly, but he said nothing. For now, it was nice to let them have this peaceful moment before the looming obligations came to fruition.