Soren
My hands won't stop trembling.
I stare at the ruby wine in my cup, watching tiny ripples disturb the surface with each slight shake. Tomorrow, I marry Tarian Valen. Tomorrow, everything changes.
"You are getting married!" Rialla's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts as she raises her own cup high. Her amber eyes sparkle with an excitement I wish I could share. The afternoon sun catches the wine, turning it into liquid fire. "To Soren and his handsome knight!"
She clinks her cup against mine with such enthusiasm that wine sloshes over the rim, staining my fingers red like blood.
"Yes," I manage. "It seems so."
It seems so. What a pathetic response. But what else can I say? That I'm terrified? That despite everything, despite knowing Tarian since we were children, I still feel like I'm marrying a stranger?
I can't believe I'm actually getting married. What's even more unbelievable is that it's to Tarian Valen, the most decorated Knight of Elysara, my home kingdom. The biggest in land and the most affluent on all of Thyndara. He's also, if I'm being honest, a war maniac with an ego that rivals any of the castles he's conquered.
The stories everyone tells about him are all true, which makes this even more surreal. At just seventeen, Tarian wiped out entire factions that were spreading lies about monsters roaming our lands again. The same creatures that terrorized us during the Darkrift War a thousand years ago.
While others cowered behind castle walls, he rode out with nothing but a handful of knights, exposed the lies, and crushed the panic with displays of swordsmanship that left everyone speechless.
Seven years after that act of bravery, the common folk have dubbed him the most desirable alpha in the kingdom. Every day, women and men alike fall at his feet. Alphas, betas, and omegas all swoon over him.
Who could blame them? He's the pride of House Valen, a lineage of royal knights and sword masters who pledge allegiance to the Solaris Goddess to protect the crown.
For my part, I'd wanted nothing to do with him beyond our childhood friendship. At least, that's what I told myself for years.
"Earth to Soren," Brioni's voice pulls me back again. "You're getting that glazed look again."
I blink, focusing on my friends gathered around me in the palace's north garden. Vibrant spring blooms surround us, the air fragrant with flowers and a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. At twenty-two, I would have preferred a quiet tea party, but wine feels like the right choice for this type of celebration.
For once, we're not dressed in elaborate, glittering gowns adorned with gems typical of royal appearances. Rialla wears a simple, soft, flowing dress in muted lavender. It's comfortable and free of heavy embellishments.
Brioni chose a casual light green dress, its only decoration a delicate floral pattern. Even Lyra, my half-sister, always so poised, selected a plain white dress that highlights her natural grace, though I notice she keeps glancing toward the palace as if expecting unwelcome news.
I've embraced the relaxed atmosphere too, wearing a loose white blouse tucked into dark brown trousers. This is a rare moment of us being ourselves, free from the burdens of the images we have to project to the world.
"Sorry," I say, taking another sip of wine. "Just thinking about tomorrow."
"About Tarian being gorgeous?" Rialla teases with a wink.
Heat floods my cheeks. "Among other things."
The truth is, Tarian might be brave, honorable, and devastatingly handsome, but he's about as emotionally available as a frost serpent.
So why am I marrying him? Because when Tarian sets his mind on something, he pursues it relentlessly. It wasn't only his persistence that wore me down, though. It was the pressure from Papa, the other kings, and the entire noble court.
Despite my royal upbringing, being born a male omega meant the court would always see me as a bad omen. A harbinger of the kingdom's potential downfall. It doesn't matter that the gods blessed us with the ability to bear children. In the eyes of the court, I'm still a curse waiting to happen.
"'Exciting' isn't the word I'd use," I mutter. "More like… inevitable."
"Oh, Soren, you've always been dramatic," Lyra teases, raising her glass, though her knuckles have gone white around the stem.
I glance at my half-sister, noting she now motions for more wine despite touching little of her food. Lyra is a scant year younger than I, but sometimes I feel decades older. Maybe it's because I've been preparing for duty my entire life while she's been fighting it.
"Says the girl who once climbed the castle walls because the King said she couldn't attend a tournament," Brioni teases, reaching for the cheese. "Remember? You said you'd rather die than miss seeing 'all those magnificent alpha warriors in their prime.'"
"I was fifteen!" Lyra protests, but she's grinning now. "And I wasn't wrong. Lord Grayson looked incredible in armor."
"You nearly gave the guards heart attacks," I add, remembering that day. "And Mother grounded you for a month."
"Worth it." Lyra's smile fades slightly, and she takes a longer drink than necessary. "Besides, it's not like I'll have much chance for adventure where I'm going."
An uncomfortable silence settles over us. We all know about Lyra's engagement to Prince Kael of Arvelon. The shapeshifter prince from the kingdom everyone still whispers about, still fears. The marriage that will secure our access to Starlithium mines but cost us my sister.
"At least Prince Kael, by all accounts, is handsome," Rialla offers with a hesitant tone. "I heard he has the most unusual eyes—"
"Can we not?" Lyra's voice turns sharp, and her cup gives a faint tremble in her grip. "I'd rather not discuss my future husband's physical attributes with my wine."
Brioni clears her throat. "Well then, let's focus on Soren's gorgeous alpha instead. Tarian is the kingdom's pride, isn't he? The way he handled those faction uprisings when he was barely seventeen…"
I nod, feeling my cheeks warm. What they don't know is how he looked when he returned. Exhausted and trying to hide how shaken he was. How he'd found me in the stables afterward and stood there, not saying anything, until I asked if he was all right.
That was the first time I saw past the legend to the man underneath. The only time.
"He's brave," I murmur. "Honorable. Exactly what the kingdom needs."
"And what do you need?" Rialla presses.
What do I need? My whole life, they have told me what I am—a curse, a bad omen, the omega prince who killed his mother and received no blessing from Solaris.
"I need…" I pause, surprised by the honesty that wants to spill out. "I need someone who sees me as more than a political necessity."
"Does Tarian?" Brioni asks.
Before I can answer, a servant approaches and whispers something to Lyra. Her face goes pale.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Message from Arvelon." Lyra says. "Prince Kael is arriving tomorrow. For your wedding, but also to finalize our engagement terms."
The wine suddenly tastes like ash in my mouth. Tomorrow isn't only my wedding day. It's the day we seal both our fates.
Lyra's expression hardens as she leans back in her chair. "Papa and Mother are making sure everything is perfect, of course. But I still have… reservations about Arvelon."
Brioni gives a sympathetic nod. "It must be difficult, especially with all the stories we've heard."
"Most of what we've heard is true," Lyra says, clearing her throat. "And that guy—I mean, Prince Kael embodies what you'd expect from their bloodline. Here, Soren is complaining about his wedding being too elaborate, and I'm marrying an actual monster."
Everyone falls into uncomfortable silence. Even the servants around us freeze mid-task. It's jarring to hear Lyra speak so bluntly about her future husband.
"Well," Brioni says after a moment, "at least everyone agrees he's an alpha and royal, so he is likely… well-equipped for the marriage bed."
"See?" Rialla jumps on the opening with obvious relief. "I told you that you have a thing for alpha anatomy."
"Hey now, ladies of noble houses should maintain some decorum," I interject, and everyone laughs despite the tension.
The laughter feels forced, but it's better than the heavy silence. I watch Lyra try to smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes. My heart aches for her situation.
"Lyra, we can talk about this—"
"I need more wine." She stands abruptly, cutting me off, nearly knocking over her chair. "Much more wine."
"She'll be okay," Rialla says, though she doesn't sound convinced. "We all will be."
As Lyra strides toward the servants, I catch Brioni and Rialla exchanging worried glances. We all know Lyra's been struggling with her engagement, but seeing her this rattled is new.
I wish I shared her confidence, but watching Lyra all but flee toward the wine service makes my chest tight with worry.
As much as I love my sister, she's always attracted to trouble. She calls me dramatic, but she's the one who finds herself in dramatic situations, especially when it involves romance.
It doesn't matter their secondary gender—attraction is her weakness. Her rebellious attitude and defiance of everything our parents taught us led to her engagement to the prince of Arvelon kingdom.
Yet as I watch her now, shaken by news of Prince Kael's arrival, I realize this might be the first time her rebellious spirit has met something that fills her with genuine fear.