When the Gates Opened

-Princess Aveline Ravelynn, Elaria:

The celebration had begun.

I stood behind the thick velvet curtains of my chamber window, peering down at the palace gates as they opened again and again to receive yet another royal entourage. The summer light spilled over the marble courtyard like honey, warming the spires and golden arches of Castle Auralis. Music floated from the far end of the garden, light and expectant, and flower petals drifted through the air like confetti tossed by the gods.

"Look at them all," Lira murmured beside me, her breath fogging the window. "I've never seen this many nobles arrive all at once. It's like the entire continent came to court you."

"I suppose they did," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

The gown I wore was heavier than I expected. Pale blush silk layered with sheer silver lace, cut to flutter at the shoulders and fall like dew around my frame. My corset was threaded with fine embroidery—thorns and vines, twisting across my bodice—and my hair had been twisted into soft coils and pinned with opals. I looked exactly as a princess should.

I just didn't feel like one.

"You look breathtaking," Lira said gently.

I didn't answer. My fingers were curled against the window frame, white at the knuckles, as I tried to sort the blur of colors and faces pouring through the gates. Kings and princes, dukes and lords. Some of their entourages arrived with fanfare—trumpets, armored guards in glittering formation, flags of house crests flapping in the wind. Others came in quieter processions, but no less regal.

"That one," Lira said, nodding. "That's King Rowan of Vireya, the golden-haired one. He brought both his sons. The taller one is the heir."

"I remember meeting him when I was younger," I murmured. "He gave me a mechanical bird that could sing."

"Sweet."

"He also cried when I beat him at chess."

Lira laughed.

Another carriage rumbled in through the gates, this one draped in emerald silks. Behind it, a small parade of guards on horseback—all wearing green and silver. "King Darius of Telvareth," Lira said knowingly. "Old as the mountains. Let's hope he's here for his son."

My eyes narrowed. "He'd better be."

Lira snorted. "I don't think your father would force you to marry a man three times your age."

"I don't know," I said, dry. "He seems increasingly eager to be rid of me."

She didn't answer. We both knew it wasn't about getting rid of me. It was about securing the strongest alliance. The right bond. The cleanest, most useful marriage.

And so I watched the lines of noblemen stream into the castle—faces I didn't recognize and ones I remembered from banquets or formal visits. Many were older than I hoped. Some had the dull, waxy eyes of men raised to conquer, not love. I studied each face for a flicker of something more—intelligence, kindness, wit, anything—but the longer I stood there, the heavier my heart became.

I wanted to be hopeful. I wanted to believe in the chance of finding someone real in this sea of shining armor and trained smiles.

"Maybe one of them will surprise me," I said softly.

Lira tilted her head toward me. "Maybe."

My hand drifted down to the windowsill, where the sunlight had warmed the stone. "Do you think it's foolish to hope for love?"

"No," she said. "It's foolish not to."

I smiled faintly, turning back to the window—and then I saw the shift.

Not in the air. Not in the banners or the sky.

But in the people.

The courtyard, once humming with chatter and cheer, grew… still. Slowly, subtly. Like the entire castle held its breath.

One of the outer guards ran inside. Another followed. Musicians stopped playing. A servant dropped a tray and didn't bend to retrieve it. Voices turned to murmurs. Faces shifted.

Then the gates opened again.

This time, they didn't creak or groan. They parted like they'd been ordered by something larger than protocol—like they obeyed more than hinges.

And through them rode two kings.

I didn't need Lira to tell me who they were. I knew. Everyone knew.

Dravareth had arrived.

The kingdom that didn't send emissaries. The kings that didn't attend court. The pair that ruled from shadows and stormlight. Married, feared, revered.

And beautiful.

The one in front—Lucan, I assumed—rode a black steed whose hooves struck the ground like war drums. He wore a cloak of deep obsidian, clasped at his shoulder with a steel sigil, and his armor was darker still. Not polished like the others'. Not decorative. It looked used. Lived in. Scarred. Like him.

He didn't smile. He didn't wave. His gaze moved like a blade, cold and sharp, taking in the palace and everyone in it without a word.

Beside him, the second king rode slightly behind but not in submission—more like a quiet shadow, content to observe until the time came to act. Rhysand, I knew from the way his eyes flicked across the gathered crowd, analyzing everything. His expression was calm, but there was something impossible behind it. Intelligence wrapped in elegance. Charm veiling danger.

He wore no armor, only deep navy silks trimmed in silver. But I had no doubt he could kill a man with his bare hands.

They looked nothing like the other suitors.

They looked like kings who came not to beg for a bride—but to take whatever fate offered them.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Nobles turned away. Some women clutched their pearls; some men muttered prayers. I saw one of the Telvareth knights physically step back.

And yet I couldn't look away.

"They're… married," I whispered.

"Yes," Lira said beside me, low. "To each other."

"How did they meet?" I asked.

"No one knows," she admitted. "Or if they do, they don't speak of it. There are stories, of course. Some say they met on the battlefield. Some say they were enemies first. Others say they were always together. Bound by something deeper than politics."

I didn't know why, but the idea made my heart ache. That kind of bond. That kind of love.

"I've never seen them in person," I murmured.

"No one has," Lira said. "Not outside of Dravareth."

The kings dismounted. The black-cloaked one—Lucan—reached for his husband's hand to steady him, not like a man helping someone weak, but like a man remembering what steadied him. Their fingers brushed. Barely. But I saw it.

And I knew I would never forget it.

"Princess?" Lira said gently.

"Yes?"

"You're still staring."

"I know," I whispered.

And I didn't stop.

Not even when the horns sounded to announce their arrival. Not even when the crowd parted for them like waves retreating from the shore. Not even when the guards of Elaria looked visibly nervous.

I simply stood there, heart wild in my chest, a thousand names in my memory—but only two faces etched in my soul.