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Twenty Years Earlier…

“Cahir, stop pulling my hair,” I whine, pushing away my dastardly older brother.

Cahir smirks, like the cheeky devil he is, as his one blue eye and one amber eye glisten with mischief.

His crown is crooked atop his head, as he untucks his royal attire for this very important meeting.

As I turn around to ignore him, he tugs on a strand of my hair once more.

“I’m going to tell Papa and Mama if you don’t stop,” I growl.

“Cahir,” our beautiful mother warns from the doorway. “Stop vexing your sister.” Mama’s dark emerald dress compliments her beautiful red hair and amber eyes. She’s as lovely as she is kind, and I wish I was more like her. My temper constantly gets me into trouble—a trait I inherited from my father.

“She started it when she kicked me,” Cahir whines.

“Only after you pushed me,” I protest .

A boisterous laugh echoes from behind Mama. “Now, now, children,” our father says. “Listen to your mother.”

Papa is so handsome, with cropped, wavy strawberry-blonde hair and dark blue eyes, complementing the magnificent blue tunic that he’s adorned with my favorite white-fur mantle with gold trimming.

His beard is trimmed neatly, making his features even more attractive.

His golden crown sits high on his head, allowing the emeralds to dazzle brightly in the sunshine.

I run over to him. “Papa,” I squeal. His harmonious laughter fills the room as he swings me up into his arms in the tightest hug. In my eyes, Papa is the greatest king and father to ever live. I hope to love someone just as magnificent as him one day.

A knock sounds from the entryway. “King Elias, Queen Riona,” an attendant calls out. “The Galrosan King and his family just arrived.”

Papa smiles, sitting my feet back on the ground. “Wonderful,” my father bellows. He holds my hand in his strong grip. “Let’s not keep our guests waiting.”

“Do King Tiernan and Queen Treasa have any children, Papa?” Cahir asks excitedly.

“Indeed,” he replies. “They actually have a son that’s your age, Cahir. His name is Emyreus. He’s quite shy, so the two of you better not scare him.”

“Yes, Papa,” we say in unison.

After the short walk to the throne room, we each take our respective seats.

I sit beside our mother, while Cahir sits next to our father.

I squirm with excitement over the prospect of making a new friend, especially a friend that also understands what it’s like to be royal. “Sit still, Maevriana,” Mama coos.

“I’m just so excited to meet them,” I reply.

Mama chuckles, smiling softly. “I know you are, my love, but it isn’t proper for a princess to behave in such a way. You desire to make a good impression, don’t you?” she asks.

I shake my head quickly in response. “I’ll make the best impression, Mama,” I promise.

“I know you will,” she beams.

Then, a stunning family dressed in all black enters the throne room.

Queen Treasa is an absolute beauty, with long sandy-blonde hair, high cheekbones, and a dazzling smile.

King Tiernan is also quite handsome, with his coiffed ebony hair and amber eyes that are trained on his adoring wife.

However, it’s the shy boy that clings to his mother that draws my attention.

The boy has hair similar to his mother, but with the looks and golden eyes of his father.

The boy’s piercing eyes instantly connect with mine.

I offer a smile, to which he hesitantly returns.

“Elias! Riona!” King Tiernan exclaims.

Papa grins widely. “Welcome, my old friends,” he says. “So glad to have you join us.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Elias,” Queen Treasa responds. Looking at Cahir and me, she smiles and waves jovially. “Are these your children that I’ve heard so much about?” she coos.

“Indeed,” Mama answers. “This is our son, Prince Cahir, and our daughter, Princess Maevriana.”

The King of Zulgalros dips his head, grinning kindly at us. “Hello to you both. This is our son, Prince Emyreus,” he says, motioning to the beautiful boy.

After receiving approval from Mama, I jump from the dais, running over to the boy. He flinches as I hold out my hand. “Hi Emyreus. You may call me Maeva,” I say.

The boy stares at my hand as if I were a leper, but I hold it out expectantly. Queen Tressa nudges the boy toward me. “Don’t be rude, Emyreus,” Queen Treasa remarks. Reluctantly, he takes my hand as a small smile quirks the side of his mouth.

“Hello, Maeva,” he whispers. “M-My friends call me Emyr.”

My face splits as an ear-to-ear grin forms on my lips. “Am I considered a friend, then?” I ask.

Emyr looks down, a pink hue coloring his cheeks. “If you wish to be, then yes,” he replies.

“Then it’s settled,” I beam. “Consider us officially the best of friends.”

Fourteen Years Earlier…

Emyr grunts as he stumbles into my back. “Rosey, we’re going to get caught,” he warns. I smile at the nickname he gave me. It originated a few years ago when I decided to plant roses for the first time. I marveled and beamed about my progress, and he believed the name to be fitting.

So much has changed since the first time I met Emyr.

The scrawny boy that I first met has long since disappeared. He’s grown quite tall over the past several years, already towering over me.

“Shhh,” I laugh. “Only if you aren’t quiet. Don’t you trust me?”

Emyr cuts a sideways glance in my direction. “Not after the last time you got us into trouble,” he teases.

I punch him in the arm, making him chuckle.

“Well, this time will be different,” I say. “I promise we won’t get caught… again.” As if overhearing my plan, two sentries come around the corner of the palace on their usual patrol. “Get down and be quiet.”

Emyr does as he’s told, though hiding behind the shrubbery at the Galrosan palace is much harder now that we’re older.

We visit each other at least two to three times a year since becoming friends on his first visit to Malvoria.

While Emyr and I get into mischief, Cahir prefers to learn politics under Papa or even train in the gardens with Emyr’s father.

However, regardless of how we spend our time, it’s always a joy to be reunited with the other royal family.

After a few moments, the sentries quickly pass by, not noticing two kids lurking in the shrubs.

“Come on, Emyreus,” I whisper. “I have something to show you.” Then, with a wink, I dash across the boundary toward the woods.

Emyr curses under his breath, quickly catching up.

As we disappear into the wood line, small pixies dance around us joyously.

Emyr leans over, placing his hands on his knees for support. “You’re bloody insane,” he gasps.

I bow dramatically. “But that’s why you love me,” I laugh.

Emyr swallows thickly. “Yes, it is,” Emyr answers, his tone more serious than I’ve ever heard before.

It isn’t lost on me how handsome he’s become since our last visit. I’m definitely starting to mature more, growing up from the young child I was into the young lady that I’ll be. By the way he’s now staring, I wonder if he’s also noticed the shift.

Clearing my throat, I open the palms of my hands.

Emyr quirks a questioning eyebrow at me.

“Close your eyes, Prince,” I smirk.

“Not a chance, Rosey,” he laughs.

I cross a finger over my heart. “I promise I’m not going to shove a pixie down your shirt… again,” I reply.

He runs a hand through his hair as he contemplates whether he can trust my word. “No tricks?” he asks.

“Not even one,” I promise.

Though hesitant, Emyr closes his eyes.

While this will indeed be a trick, it’s one that I’m so excited to show him.

Papa and Mama warned me to never reveal my signet tattoo to King Tiernan, but surely, they didn’t also mean Emyr.

The poor king has been slipping away ever since his wife died, leaving Emyr alone.

Perhaps if Emyr knows I’m special too, he won’t feel sad anymore.

Emyr’s signet manifested fully two years ago, and he’s revered in all the kingdoms, destined to accomplish wonders. Whenever he ascends to the throne, he’ll be the most powerful Galrosan king in centuries. How delighted he’ll be to learn that I’m powerful, as well—ruling a kingdom of my own.

Focusing on the warmth blooming in my chest, my palms glow as my starlight illuminates this small portion of the woods in small, glorious orbs of light. They twinkle like thousands of tiny stars up in the sky, and the sight of them makes me smile.

“Open your eyes,” I whisper.

As he peels open his eyes, his mouth falls agape. Emyr spins around, looking at the dazzling orbs shimmering above our heads. He rubs the back of his neck, whistling low. “Is this your ability?” he asks.

“One of them,” I say.

Emyr’s eyes light up. “You’ve been blessed with two?” he asks.

I shake my head, unable to contain my excitement. “Four. One for each of the kingdoms. This is the one that I can control the best though,” I say.

Slowly, I unbutton the top two buttons of my tunic, my golden signet gleaming brightly in the center of my décolletage, slightly beneath my collarbones.

Emyr freezes in place, his mouth opening and closing several times. Blinking rapidly, he coughs, patting his chest. “You’re the Na Fíréin,” Emyr murmurs.

“Yes, isn’t it exciting?” I squeal.

Emyr doesn’t smile as I’d hoped. His gaze is far off as he grimaces, his fists coiled tightly at his sides.

I frown, dropping my hands. This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. I thought he’d be happy for me, yet my best friend appears to be the opposite.

“Emyreus,” I whisper. Emyr jerks his head toward me, sighing heavily. “Isn’t this exciting?”

Emyr offers me a pinched, forced smile. “Absolutely,” he sighs. Taking my hands in his own, he places them over his heart. “Forgive me, it’s just a lot to take in.”

“Oh, I know,” I laugh. “I’m told it’s an honor to be chosen.”

Emyr chews on the side of his cheek, releasing my hands “It is indeed,” he replies. “I-Is there anything else that you can do?”

I shuffle my feet, looking to the woods.

Papa told me the last part has to remain a secret at all costs. As much as I trust Emyr, Papa doesn’t trust Tiernan.

Noticing my hesitancy, Emyr reaches out a hand to softly caress my cheek. Leaning into his touch, he gazes at me with his piercing golden eyes with concern. “Don’t you trust me, Rosey?” he asks.

I chew on my lip. My gut tells me to listen to Papa, while my heart reminds me of the mutual trust Emyr and I have built over years. “Promise you won’t tell a soul?” I whisper.

“Maeva, it’s me. You have my word,” Emyr answers.

Warning bells blare in my heads, reminding me that I should proceed with caution. But this is Emyr we’re talking about, and he’s not his father.

Emyr gently moves the hair that has fallen into my eyes away from my face. “Rosey?” Emyr asks.

I take a deep breath, praying my best friend is who I believe him to be.

“I’ve awoken a dragon.”