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When she finally stood before him once more, her smile sharpened into something even more dangerous. Tilting her head, she studied him with mock curiosity.

‘And why am I a cheater, prince?’ Before he could respond, the drums sounded, breaking the spell between them. The arena erupted in thunderous applause, the crowd roaring their approval at the spectacle they had just witnessed.

Mal sighed. The excitement in her eyes dulled as if reality had stolen something from her.

With a quiet exhale, she lowered her weapon and sheathed it, her expression turning distant.

The fight was over, and with it, the brief, untamed freedom she had found in battle.

Now, they would return to the suffocating halls of courtly duties, to feasts and dances and whispered politics.

Ash hesitated, then extended a hand towards her.

‘Shake.’

Mal blinked at him, frowning. Her nose scrunched in clear distaste, and she eyed his outstretched palm as if it were some foreign, incomprehensible thing.

Then, realisation dawned.

The shock that slowly uncurled across her face, like a tendril of smoke, almost made Ash chuckle.

He had heard that in the Kingdom of Darkness, to honour another warrior after battle was not just a formality. It was sacred. A gesture of utmost respect, not offered lightly, not taken for granted.

‘It is not so important in this land,’ he admitted, gesturing at his hand.

A pause.

Then, slowly, Mal placed her pale fingers into his.

She did not just shake it—she studied it. Their hands, so different, so stark in contrast—his golden and warm, hers cool and silver like moonlight. She tilted her head as if fascinated by the feel of his skin against hers, as though she were trying to understand why it was done at all.

Then, to his utter disbelief, she laughed. A genuine, soft chuckle, as though the entire ordeal amused her beyond words. And in that moment, something inside Ash shifted.

Mal Blackburn had been nothing but sharp edges and shadows, a lethal thing barely contained within mortal form—and yet here she was, giggling over a handshake. Suddenly, the idea of marrying her didn’t seem so terrible. But just as the thought settled in his mind, Mal moved.

Her hand reached towards him and—on instinct—Ash stepped back, prepared to block whatever attack she had planned.

Mal rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation.

Before he could question her intent, she took his hand again—this time only his index and middle finger—and placed them against his forehead.

Then, with deliberate care, she guided his hand outward towards her.

Ash remained still as she mirrored the action with her own fingers.

Then, she bowed.

‘May the shadows guide your way,’ she said, her voice quiet, yet weighted with meaning.

The arena fell silent.

A breathless hush descended over the crowd as Mal Blackburn, the fourthborn child of the Kingdom of Darkness, honoured the Fire Prince for the very first time.

…

Mal dropped into the tub like a stone, sinking deeper and deeper as her bones cracked in complaint.

She had requested the water to be freezing cold.

Damn drakonians only ever bathed in boiling hot water.

She kept her head under for as long as possible, the water splashing all over the wooden floor as she emerged, panting for breath.

‘You were astonishing, your highness,’ Vera said in that sweet silk voice, hurrying along to dry the floor. ‘I have never seen anyone move as fast. The court sat in sheer amazement at your fighting capabilities.’

Mal made bubbles with her mouth, her arms outstretched over the golden tub. Vera grabbed a stool and sat to wash the princess’s hair.

‘I must ask though, your highness, how you managed to vanish into thin air like that.’ Vera’s fingers massaged Mal’s scalp in such a way she began to doze off.

Only a few hours had passed since the Champions Battle and everyone had retired to their chambers to freshen up before the celebratory dinner.

‘I just move fast.’

‘Oh, it almost seemed like you turned into smoke.’

Mal’s purple eyes drifted up towards the drakonian maid.

‘Wyverians cannot turn into smoke.’

Vera fell silent for a while, until—

‘I’ve heard that there was a wyverian king once that could turn into shadows.’ Mal tensed, unsure of where the conversation was going. ‘They say he also possessed a shadow wyvern.’

Mal turned her head to look at her maid properly. ‘And where exactly did you hear this tale?’

Vera shrugged. ‘Oh, just stories servants tell each other to pass the time, your highness.’

Mal knew she should leave it at that—she should not start putting her nose into affairs that did not concern her. But knowing that Vera heard all kinds of tales through the castle made Mal itch with the need to know Ash’s secrets.

‘Has the prince ever been formerly engaged?’ Mal asked casually while her maid finished rinsing her hair.

‘I do not believe so, your highness.’

‘Surely he has had many…’ Mal struggled to find the appropriate word. ‘Admirers.’

‘Oh, yes. Quite a few.’

Mal climbed out of the tub, allowing Vera to wrap a red towel around her body.

She would not permit the maid to dry her off, that was still too personal.

There were certain customs she was willing to partake in—having someone’s hands over her body was not one of them. Vera would wash her hair, nothing more.

‘Has he ever been in love before?’ Mal opened her wardrobe and studied the different dresses inside, her head tilted, pretending to be more interested in the gowns than the answer.

Mal sneered the moment she heard the maid swallow nervously. Twisting around with a gown in her hands, she lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

‘Well… I think…’ Vera began playing with her hands. ‘He… it was not…’

‘What was she like?’

Vera sighed, defeated. ‘She was lovely. A noble’s daughter.’

‘What happened?’

‘I think they realised it could not go any further. He is the Fire Prince and her titles were not close enough to be a contender in marriage. So, one day she left. I heard that she had become betrothed to someone else, which broke his heart.’

Mal observed her maid carefully. That story would be believable if princess Alina had not admitted that the young girl Ash had fallen for had had purple eyes.

Which meant that somehow, the Fire Prince had fallen in love with a witch.

Surely everyone had kept it a secret. Perhaps only his sister and he knew the truth.

That was in Mal’s opinion the most likely reality.

Mal focused on Vera. She could not quite explain it.

Perhaps it was from observing her maid a bit too carefully and obsessively, but she had picked up on the way Vera acted so timidly and nervously when she knew someone was watching and then, her entire posture would change when she believed to be alone.

Or maybe it was the way those drakonian eyes sharpened when someone said something, something she clearly did not agree with.

No other maid reacted in such a way, they were utterly submissive.

A blank canvass with no emotion or expression.

What made Vera different?

‘What about your family, Vera?’ Mal asked, changing the subject, pretending to have grown bored of talking about the prince. She finished drying off and let her maid help dress her and comb her hair. ‘Do they also work in the castle?’

Vera shook her head. ‘No, they are back home.’

‘Do you have any siblings?’

Vera couldn’t help but smile. ‘Yes, I do. Two sisters in fact, your highness. You cannot imagine my father’s despair.’

Both laughed.

‘Are you the oldest?’ Mal asked, genuinely interested.

‘I’m actually the youngest. My sister Dawn is the oldest and she would always boss us around, which drove me insane if I’m allowed to be honest, your highness. I think I was closer to my sister Allegra because only a year separated us.’

Mal watched her maid in the reflection of the mirror, her smile growing deeper and meaner, wickedly dangerous.

She listened to Vera, her smile never diminishing. It did not falter even when the maid realised, those eyes shining with momentary fear and confusion.

‘They sound lovely,’ Mal said, her voice dripping with venom.

The wyverian princess knew that the maid was now questioning the look and the smile, wondering what she had said to draw such a look from Mal. For now she would not tell her.

She had yet another dance and feast to attend. Luckily, only three days left until the wedding. Mal would not have to endure any more feasts or dances—she hoped.

Before leaving her room, Mal turned towards her maid and said, ‘I do hope I have the chance to meet your sisters one day.’

Vera smiled sweetly, but it did not reach her eyes. No. Those eyes said something very different. A threat. ‘Oh, that would be wonderful, your highness. They would be honoured.’

‘If you speak to them soon, greet them for me.’

‘I haven’t spoken to them in some time I’m afraid.’

‘That’s a shame.’

Mal left her maid to tidy up. She had known something was wrong with her, and she had not been able to place her finger on it until Vera herself slipped up by mistake. How curious that Vera had two sisters by the names of Dawn and Allegra.

Exactly the same names as the two witches Mal had come across when she’d fallen off Nyx crossing the wastelands.