The two carriages rolled side by side through the gates. The massive archways bore celestial sigils carved into pale stone, glowing faintly with residual Manna. As the gates closed behind them, a hush fell, as if the very air had changed.
The carriages halted before the palace steps, and a line of servants swept forward. The new Tributes disembarked while the servants, dressed in green and brown uniforms, bowed deeply. Leading them was a steward who after greeting the Tributes, ushered them into the West Wing, their new home.
Inside, the corridors gleamed with moonstone floors and tall mirrors that caught and multiplied their reflections. The West Wing was a maze with its vaulted ceilings, towering doors and lightly perfumed air. Yet Noe noticed how far they sat from the rest of the palace. Notably secluded Faelynn and Alarie similarly thought.
They had been walking for quite a while after ascending a grand staircase when the steward turned.
"This part of the Wing has been reserved for my esteemed Lady Tributes. You will find every comfort here. Meals are served at dawn and dusk in the dining room down the hall," he said, pointing to a door of polished mahogany with floral motifs spiraling toward an elegant crest, the symbol of Ardenne's lineage.
"You may enjoy a stroll in the lower gardens, but the grounds beyond the gates are off limits without escort," he added, gesturing toward a staircase further down the corridor.
Close enough to be watched, far enough not to be a nuisance.
After climbing another flight of stairs, they arrived at a marble atrium on the third floor, where light filtered through latticed glass. Each of the Tributes was shown to her chamber. The rooms were lavish: velvet drapes, ornate golden furniture, and soft deep-green rugs.
Before departing, the steward described the most wondrous dinner that Princess Bellatrice had prepared for the new Tributes tonight. From the way he was talking about her, it was clear where his allegiances lay. The Tributes inspected their chambers and after some moments, they gathered in the common area of the large atrium they were to share.
Rowena clasped her hands, eyes wide. "This place is beautiful."
Faelynn dropped her travel cloak onto a chair. "Is that the only word you know?" she teased. There was no malice in her tone, but Rowena dipped her head and blushed. Alarie put a hand on her shoulder for comfort while inspecting a vase of white lilies on the table with quiet approval.
The room was indeed exquisite — the kind of beauty that dulled the senses like the rest of Ardenne so far. Noe traced her fingers over the edge of the large mirror above the fireplace. Not a single imperfection.
When Faelynn caught her reflection in the mirror, she grinned.
"So, Noe — where did you say you were from again?"
"The Mittelands," Noe said evenly, turning away.
"Right. You 'moved around a lot.'" Faelynn's tone was teasing, but her eyes were sharp. "People live in the Mittelands, but no one is actually from there. Where are you from originally?" she pressed.
The Mittelands was neutral territory — a place where merchants, travelers, and a few nobles lingered, mostly staying for no more than a year or two. A transient place, where few rooted themselves permanently.
Alarie, sensing Noe's discomfort, shot Faelynn a look. "Let it go, Faelynn."
"I'm just curious," Faelynn said, stretching lazily. "A pretty girl with such air and eloquence is clearly not a mere merchant's daughter. You can't blame me for wondering."
Did she suspect? Noe tried not to betray her thoughts and put on the blank face, the one she had trained herself to have put on many a time. She met Faelynn's gaze without flinching.
"Are you spying for your new Lord, Prince Calen? If you must know, I was taken in by a noble lady who had no children of her own. She sent me to the Mittelands Academy — that's where I picked up this elocution and decorum."
Faelynn smirked, raising her hands in defence. "Hey, I'm no spy. I just want to know who I'll be sharing this lovely space with."
Alarie sighed. "Celestials help us all."
"At least they've given us our own baths. I wouldn't have expected less from Ardenne," Princess Inaya said to no one in particular.
Faelynn rolled her eyes. "Spoken like a true princess. I'm surprised you didn't demand silk sheets as well."
"They were already provided."
At that, laughter rippled through the chamber, easing the tension. Even Inaya, who had stood apart with her arms crossed, allowed a faint smile.
Bellatrice stood before the wide glass doors of her balcony, the gauzy drapes stirring like ghostly veils around her. She didn't need to turn when the door opened behind her — she knew it was him.
Elarion's presence filled the air by the quiet authority that always preceded him.
"I've been waiting," she said softly, her tone perfectly smooth, adeptly hiding the irritation in her voice.
"I was detained longer than I would have liked," Elarion replied, his voice low and tired.
She turned then to look at him. Hair tousled from travel, the faint scent of soil and rain still clinging to him. The sight made her heart tighten — he was still beautiful, even when worn thin by duty.
"By the King?" she asked.
"Him, and the rest of the court. There's much to discuss. Much to be done," he said, rubbing his temples.
Her smile was small, careful. "You think too much, my prince."
"And you think I feel too little."
"You feel more than you admit. Always have."
His jaw tightened under her fingers. He leaned forward, his breath ghosting her cheek.
"When the occasion calls for it."
She closed the distance first. Her lips brushed his with a certainty born of familiarity — of possession. His hands rose to her waist automatically, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened — warm and hungry.
Bellatrice knew his rhythm; she had memorized the pace of his breathing, the strength of his touch. But he felt different tonight. There was an edge to his movements.
She drew back slightly, her voice a murmur against his mouth. "You're elsewhere. Come back to me."
Elarion didn't answer. His fingers trailed down her arm, to her wrist, tracing the veins that pulsed faintly beneath her skin. "It's been a long journey."
"You're a good liar but you can't fool me," she said softly, searching his eyes. "Is it the Shield again? The weakening?"
He hesitated — a flicker of guilt, or memory. "Among other things."
Bellatrice's throat tightened. She turned from him, crossing to the mirrored vanity where candles burned low. "Other things... the new Tributes, perhaps?" she murmured.
Instead of replying, he drew her back by the waist.
"You needn't worry. They are nothing to me. We need their Manna but once the Shield is restored they'll be gone."
Bellatrice turned back to him, her expression softening.
"When you first saw me," she said, "do you remember? You were supposed to claim another, and yet..."
"And yet I couldn't look away," he finished, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Then don't forget it."
She pressed against him, the tension between them snapping back like a bowstring. He cupped her chin, tilted her face up, and kissed her — slower this time, deliberate. She was his anchor.
But Bellatrice was done waiting. Her hands slid to his tunic, undoing the buttons one by one. "Then stop thinking," she breathed against his lips. "Just feel."
And he did.
The world outside vanished. The scent of her — jasmine and sweet vanilla — filled his lungs until he was intoxicated. Her body arched beneath his touch like a drawn bow, every sigh both surrender and demand. It didn't take long for them to lay unclothed and once he removed the frail fabric that remained the only thing between him and her hot lips below he entered with strong precision and need. It took only a few thrusts and he was already at his enlarged state. A few more thrusts and he released.
When it ended, he collapsed beside her, breath heavy. It was over sooner than she would have liked, but Bellatrice smiled in triumph. It felt good to know how much he wanted her — proof of his hunger and need for her.
"Rest," she whispered. "I've prepared a banquet for the new Tributes in the usual place. Do drop by when you're ready."
He brushed a kiss to her temple. "And you will keep everything in order, as always?"
"Of course," she replied softly. "That's what I'm here for."