Hello, love," Lucian said, that deliberate, knowing smile playing on his lips.
Vivienne felt the whole jungle stir in her belly. She swallowed hard—trying not to make it obvious.
What is he doing here?
Was he following me?
She could only stare. His dark grey eyes held her in place. His face was striking—too perfect. He was a mysterious beauty.
"Here comes the oldest brother!" Soren announced playfully, jarring Vivienne from her trance.
"My lord…" Seraphina said quickly, bowing. She gave Vivienne a subtle tug, trying to make her follow suit.
Vivienne furrowed her brows and snatched her gown free. She wouldn't bow. Not until she had answers.
Lucian's smile faded as he walked to the long table and took the middle chair, his movements graceful, controlled. The king among them.
The girls sat as well, keeping composed.
Maids stepped forward quietly, placing silver trays on the table.
"Will you have wine or squeezed mango juice, my lady?" a maid asked politely.
"Juice, please," Seraphina answered at once, cutting off the glance Vivienne was about to give. "She'll have juice as well, thank you."
Vivienne shot her a look but said nothing. They began to eat in silence.
Until—
"I'm a bit curious," Vivienne said, setting down her fork. Soren sighed dramatically.
"Who are you people exactly?" she asked.
Soren leaned back and cleared his throat theatrically. "This," he said, pointing to Lucian, "is our oldest brother—and of course, the one and only King of Virelia."
The sisters' heads whipped around. "What?!" they exclaimed in unison.
"You… you mean to say you're a king?" Vivienne turned sharply to Lucian, who seemed to be lost in a distant thought—perhaps amused.
"Oh, yes. I am," he replied casually, as if he were stating the weather.
Vivienne's mouth fell open. "W-why didn't you tell me?"
Lucian glanced her way, his tone light. "You never asked."
Seraphina's hand swiftly landed on Vivienne's, silencing her. Then, turning to Lucian with grace, she said, "Thank you very much for your kindness, Your Highness."
"My pleasure it is, Lady Seraphina," Lucian replied. His voice was soft, but there was weight in it—something unreadable.
Soren blinked dramatically. "Uhmm… do I not equally deserve a thank you?"
Seraphina gave him a sharp glare but quickly straightened her face. "Thank you, Your Highness," she added politely.
Soren grinned. "Much better."
—
Meanwhile…
Far from the palace walls, Malachi knelt before a strange, ancient woman in a crumbling hut. Her skin was thick with wrinkles, her face hidden behind long, tangled grey hair.
"I need something that belongs to her," she rasped. Her voice cracked like dead leaves.
Malachi reached into his cloak and produced a silver hairpin, placing it carefully into her withered palm.
The woman turned and tossed it into the fire. As it hissed and burned, she began to chant in a language older than memory.
Flames flickered violently—and then calmed.
From the embers, she drew out a worn parchment and handed it to him. A map.
"The one that glows… is she whom you seek."
Malachi stepped into the cold air, unrolling the map. A faint yellow light blinked on the surface, unmoving.
He scanned the trail, tracing landmarks and borders.
Then his eyes stopped.
His breath caught.
Virelia.
"Valeria!" he snarled under his breath, fury rising like a storm.