Princess VelarisShe had always been told she was delicate—a flower of Naos, sheltered and nurtured, meant to bloom within the walls of her kingdom. With four older siblings to shoulder the burdens of royal life, she was free from duty, from expectation. She wandered where she pleased, tended to by the hands of others, untouched by the weight of responsibility. It was only as she grew older that she realized freedom had been an illusion. A princess was not meant to drift unmoored, she was a piece on the chess board, waiting to be placed. The weight of expectation settled quietly upon her shoulders, unspoken yet undeniable. She would be married to a noble, a political bond to secure Naos’s future. That was her role. That was all she was meant to be. Yet, while others planned her future, Velaris dreamed of something else. She was drawn to the quiet places, the ones untouched by courts and whispered negotiations. She would sneak away to her favorite clearing, where the wind carried secrets, the trees whispered, and the animals did not ask her to be anything but herself. She had magic at her fingertips: wild, untamed, growing stronger with each passing year. Naos had never prepared her for it. No one had trained her. No one had asked if she wanted to learn. She was meant for obedience, for beauty, not for power. But the wind does not ask the petals where they wish to go. She had always wanted to leave Naos, but not like this. Not as a bargaining chip. Not stolen from the only home she had ever known, locked in the hull of a ship bound for a foreign land. When the attack came, she had felt it in her bones before she heard the screams—the crack of splintering wood, the rush of seawater filling the chamber, the weight of the ocean pulling her under. She should have drowned. Instead, she woke on foreign shores, bruised and battered but alive. Murtagh was there, the man who had taken her, though survival had not changed his purpose. She was still his responsibility. Still a pawn in the hands of those who had decided her fate. The Land of Dawns was nothing like Naos. Its people were wary of magic, their lands harsh and unforgiving. She kept her powers hidden, but she could feel them stirring, as if the earth beneath her feet knew her better than she knew herself. She had been soft once, but the world beyond Naos did not care. If she was to survive, to find her way to the Zenith capital, she would have to grow to trust the very man who had stolen her from her home. She would have to become something more than a flower in a gilded garden. Something wild. Something untamed. No longer waiting to be plucked and placed into a vase. |
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