Page 54

Slowly, his smirk returned, but this time, it was different. It was not teasing. Not mocking.

It was delight.

‘I was wondering when you’d ask.’

…

The gardens had been transformed into something out of a dream.

Flowers spilt over every stone pathway, their colours bleeding into one another in a riot of soft pinks, deep reds, and sun-kissed golds.

Blankets had been laid over the yellow-tinged grass, baskets brimming with ripe fruit and delicacies arranged in meticulous abundance.

Servants stood poised with fans, warding off the warmth of the late afternoon, their movements rhythmic, practiced.

It was the sort of setting that should have felt idyllic. But Ash found little solace in it.

Dressed in a simple shirt and brown trousers, he knew his mother would scold him for his lack of formal attire.

She would call him careless, unrefined. He did not care.

His mind was elsewhere—still half-lost in the aftermath of training, already reaching for his next task.

Soon, he would take to the skies, patrolling the borders that pressed against the lands of the witches.

More and more reports had come—whispers of witches lurking at the edges, attacking patrols. Some kingdoms still clung to their blind arrogance, believing there was no real threat, no true enemy on the horizon.

But Ash knew better.

His mother had been planting seeds of fear in the king’s mind for years. Perhaps, for once, she was right to do so.

Even as his thoughts swirled, his gaze wandered—searching, as it always did, for something he had not given himself permission to name.

The moment he spotted Mal, standing beside Zahian Noor, his stomach clenched in protest.

It was ridiculous. Childish .

He had no claim over her, no reason to feel the slow burn of jealousy twisting through his gut. They could hardly speak to one another without silence pressing thick and heavy between them. If she chose to spend her time with the phoenixian prince, what right did he have to feel anything at all?

And yet.

With long, purposeful strides, he crossed the garden, ignoring the murmured greetings, the waves of courtiers eager for his attention. He stopped beside Zahian, his gaze flicking to the stone walls they had been admiring.

‘I see our dear prince has joined us to hear about the history of the castle,’ Zahian said smoothly, wearing that insufferable smirk Ash was beginning to truly despise.

Ash grunted.

‘As I was saying,’ Zahian continued unbothered, as if he were delivering a lecture before a court of scholars. ‘The castle was built over a thousand years ago. Some parts of the building you will notice have a slightly different colour of stone and style because it was imported from my land.’

Ash rolled his eyes.

Phoenixians loved to boast. Every word that left their mouths was dipped in self-importance, their achievements framed as the pinnacle of greatness. It had never particularly irritated him before.

But now, he could not stand the sound of Zahian’s voice.

And he really could not understand how Mal was still standing there, nodding along as if she were actually interested.

How is she not bored of him?

As soon as Zahian turned to gesture towards a pillar in the distance, Mal flicked her gaze to Ash, stuck out her tongue, and crossed her eyes.

Ash nearly choked on air.

The instant Zahian glanced back, Mal’s expression smoothed into calm indifference, her head tilting slightly as if she were truly absorbing whatever nonsense the phoenixian prince was spewing.

Ash fought the urge to laugh. He had never seen this side of her—not directed at him, at least. He had witnessed it in fleeting glimpses, in the way she teased her brother, but never when she was with anyone else.

Was she letting her walls come down? Did she trust him, even a little? Should he be doing the same?

The thoughts lingered only for a moment before a sudden shift in the atmosphere drew his attention.

At the top of the stone steps leading to the main entrance, his father stood with the queen at his side, lifting a hand to call for silence.

Ash frowned. He had not been informed of any announcement. This picnic was supposed to be a casual affair, nothing more.

A hand touched his arm.

‘Ash,’ Mal murmured, her voice tinged with something that made his stomach coil tighter. ‘Have your parents told you—’

But the king’s voice cut through the gathering before she could finish.

‘Dear friends, I am so pleased you are still here in time for me to make this incredible announcement.’

The words made Ash’s blood run cold.

His father turned to Queen Cyra, his smile warm, triumphant.

‘Our son was joined with Mal Blackburn of House of Shadows, forging a union we never thought possible. Two kingdoms, once divided, now bound together. And fortuitously, another kingdom will soon be joined with our House.’

Ash swallowed hard, confusion lacing his thoughts.

His marriage had already been arranged. There was no other alliance to be made.

Unless—

His blood iced over.

No .

No, they wouldn’t.

Would they?

A hush fell over the garden .

Ash barely breathed. His head snapped towards Mal, and in her eyes, he saw understanding. She already knew.

And then, like a puppet on a string, Alina stepped into view.

She stood behind their parents, her golden horns adorned with white daisies woven into her long hair. She wore a gown of white and gold, the embroidery a masterpiece of phoenixes and dragons, two creatures eternally locked in battle.

Ash’s heart slammed against his ribs.

No .

‘Congratulations to Prince Zahian Noor and our daughter, Alina Acheron, on their engagement!’ The garden erupted into applause. ‘To House of Flames and House of Sun—united at last!’

The noise blurred into a dull roar in Ash’s ears.

His sister.

They were forcing his sister into the same fate they had forced upon him.

No—worse.

He had chosen to endure his marriage, to sacrifice his future for the sake of his kingdom, for the sake of her. He had willingly given up his own freedom so that she might keep hers.

And now…

Now, they were taking it from her anyway.

‘Ash.’ Mal’s voice was soft, edged with concern, but he barely heard it. His gaze locked onto Zahian Noor.

The phoenixian prince stood basking in the attention, nodding graciously as nobles flocked to him with congratulations. Smiling. So very pleased with himself.

Ash’s fists clenched.

His jaw tightened.

His body thrummed with barely restrained fury.

He didn’t even focus on Mal’s worried expression. His attention landed on Zahian Noor, nodding and smiling as everyone gathered around to congratulate him.

‘Prince Zahian,’ Ash muttered, voice low, dangerous.

Zahian turned, cocking his head in feigned curiosity. ‘Prince Ash, it seems we will be brothers in no time.’ He extended a hand, offering a handshake for all to see.

Ash could feel the eyes on him. The anticipation. The expectation.

The moment stretched.

And then he punched the phoenixian in the face.