The days before the Spring Equinox Ball slipped through my fingers like sand — measured not in hours, but in whispered rumors and the rustle of silk gowns being fitted in the upper halls.
The palace was alive again. Servants hurried through gilded corridors with flowers, lanterns, and boxes of imported wine. Courtiers arrived early under the pretense of "visiting," though everyone knew they came to measure their rivals — and to catch a glimpse of the Evandelle daughter who'd fainted and come back from the brink with sharper eyes than before.
I had begun walking the gardens every morning — partly to regain strength, partly to think. The Aether thrummed beneath everything now, quiet but constant, like a heartbeat under my skin. The world shimmered faintly when I focused too long — threads of intent, emotion, possibility. It was beautiful... and terrifying.
"You look like you're trying to melt the roses," Caelan's voice drawled from behind me.
I didn't turn. "They were gossiping. I was reminding them of their place."
He laughed, the sound echoing off the marble pillars. "You're spending too much time in court. Even the plants are becoming your audience."
I faced him then — my irreverent, infuriating brother, dressed in his casual training clothes, a foil sword still strapped to his hip. He was a living contradiction — mischief wrapped around loyalty, arrogance masking empathy. His smirk softened when he saw the faint dark circles beneath my eyes.
"You're pushing yourself," he said, tone dropping. "I saw the light under your door last night. Practicing again?"
"Maybe," I admitted. "If I don't master the Aether Requiem, someone else will notice it for me. And then—"
"They'll do what they always do to people they don't understand," he finished grimly. "Like Lyra."
Silence stretched between us. The wind carried the scent of lavender and smoke.
He sighed and gently tapped my forehead with his finger. "You always think you can outplay everyone. Just... don't lose yourself in the process, Zel. You can manipulate threads all you like, but you're still human. You still bleed."
I smiled faintly. "And you still talk too much."
"Occupational hazard of being the charming sibling," he said, grinning again. "Elara's the mysterious one, you're the terrifying one, so someone has to balance the aesthetic."
"I thought I was the elegant one."
"That too. Terrifyingly elegant."
Elara joined us that afternoon, as the sun bled into gold across the horizon. She was perched under the pergola, embroidery in hand as usual, her dark hair pinned loosely with silver clips. The soft hum of her voice filled the garden — a tune I didn't recognize, but it calmed the Aether's hum inside me.
"You've both been unusually quiet today," she said without looking up. "That means either you're plotting or reflecting. I can't decide which is more dangerous."
"Plotting," Caelan said immediately.
"Reflecting," I countered at the same time.
Elara's lips curved in that small, knowing way of hers. "Then the kingdom is truly doomed."
She tied off the thread and looked at me, her gaze sharp in its gentleness. "The Spring Ball will be chaos. You know that, don't you?"
"I've assumed as much," I said. "Every noble who wants a seat at the King's table will attend. And apparently, I'm part of the evening's entertainment."
"Elric Valemont will be there," Caelan teased. "Try not to stab him with your hairpin."
"Tempting, though," I muttered, earning a stifled laugh from Elara.
But beneath the banter, I caught the glance they exchanged — quiet, worried, protective.
They knew something I didn't. Or perhaps they simply feared what I was becoming.
Elara spoke first. "Father has been more... secretive lately. He meets with Lord Dravenhart's envoys at strange hours. If you're to be involved, you should know what you're walking into."
I nodded slowly. "Then I'll find out. Subtly."
Caelan sighed. "Subtly, she says. Last time you said that, three diplomats confessed state secrets after a dinner conversation."
"That was an accident."
"No, that was talent," Elara said softly. "And that's what frightens me."
Her words lingered like smoke in the evening air.
Later that night, the three of us ended up in the old observatory — a hidden relic of our childhood.
Dusty telescopes, cracked star charts, and faded cushions from another age. It overlooked the western cliffs, where the sea met the horizon like ink and fire.
Caelan opened a bottle of stolen wine, pouring unevenly into three glasses. "To the Evandelles," he declared, raising his cup. "Still standing. Mostly."
Elara rolled her eyes but clinked glasses with him. I followed suit, the taste of sweet plum and spice grounding me.
"To surviving the Equinox Ball," I added quietly.
"To surviving ourselves," Elara amended.
We drank in silence, the stars gleaming faintly through the cracked glass dome above.
For a moment — just a moment — I wasn't a vessel of dangerous power or a pawn in the great Four Swords game. I was simply Zelene. Sister. Daughter. Human.
"Whatever happens at that ball," Caelan said suddenly, his tone stripped of humor, "we stand together. Evandelles don't fall apart. Not again."
I reached across the table, threading my fingers through his and Elara's. The Aether pulsed once — faint, warm — like a heartbeat shared between three souls.
"No," I said. "Not this time."
And as the wind howled softly through the tower, the three of us watched the stars in silence — unaware that far below, in the training courtyard, Kael Dravenhart stood beneath the same sky, shadows curling at his feet, watching the light flicker in our tower window.