76.Erithia

A week passed in Saphira's luminous realm, and each day seemed to test Ren and Lyra's bond in new, subtle ways.Servants bowed deeper. Nobles from lesser dominions requested private audiences. Some brought offerings: delicate jewels carved from captured moonlight, scrolls of territory maps inscribed in glowing inks — all gentle attempts to lure them into quiet alliances.

Ren accepted their gifts with a smile that promised nothing. Beside him, Lyra watched with narrowed eyes, her power humming beneath her skin. Each time a noble lingered too long, she'd lay her hand on Ren's shoulder or slip her fingers through his — silent declarations that needed no words.

But it wasn't the local dignitaries that truly stirred concern.

It was the visitors from the frostward realms.

They arrived in processions that gleamed like frozen rivers: carriages of sapphire glass pulled by beasts with silver antlers, attendants swathed in cloaks that trailed faint mists. Their voices were soft, their expressions careful. But something in their eyes glittered with ancient, predatory appraisal.

One evening, Ren and Lyra walked a garden path lit by hanging lanterns, the air fragrant with ghost lilies. As they turned a corner, they found two frost envoys in whispered conversation — tall, elegant figures with pale hair adorned in thin crystal circlets.

They fell silent at Ren's approach. One of them — a woman with cold grey eyes — let her gaze drift shamelessly over him, then to Lyra.

"A mortal who carries himself like storm-forged steel," she said, her voice low, a hint of amusement there. "And a goddess who grips his hand as if afraid the world might steal him."

Lyra's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Not afraid. Certain. The world has tried. The underworld tried. And they all learned there's a price to reaching for what's mine."

The envoy's smile sharpened, more wolf than courtier. "We shall see if your claim holds when our queen makes her invitation."

With that, the two moved on, their cloaks whispering across the stones.

Lyra exhaled, her fingers tightening on his. "Frost courts. I knew it was only a matter of time before they circled closer. Their queens play long games — patient, glacial. When they finally reach for something, it's because they've decided to keep it."

Ren pulled her to a stop, brushing his thumb along her lower lip. "And yet they've never faced us."

Her breath hitched. "No. They haven't."

Three nights later, the invitation came.

A sealed letter arrived at their door, bound with a ribbon of ice that didn't melt even under Lyra's warm touch. She scowled but broke it open. Inside, the script was elegant, each letter edged in faint frost.

**"Lord Ren Zian. Lady Lyra of Bloom.

You are cordially summoned to the Court of Shivering Veils under the reign of Queen Erithia, Sovereign of Icebound Thrones.

We wish to test the mettle of your bond — and perhaps forge new ties that might grace the next thousand winters."**

Lyra crushed the paper in her fist, shards of ice tumbling to the floor. "Arrogant. They think their games of chill seduction will be enough to sway us."

Ren's smile was slow, dark. "Let them try. I'd rather stand in their halls and remind them there are fires colder than any frost — fires like yours, Lyra."

Her cheeks flushed at that, a heat blooming in her eyes that had nothing to do with anger. "Then we'll go. But we go together. No matter what they whisper. No matter how lovely their snows or how haunting their queens."

Their journey north was unlike any Ren had ever taken.Saphira lent them an escort: twin sky serpents with scales like polished amethyst, who flew with silent grace through clouds that turned from sunlit gold to slate grey as they approached the frostward lands.

Below, the terrain changed dramatically. Verdant forests gave way to jagged stretches of ice-crusted stone, rivers that gleamed like shards of shattered glass, and valleys swallowed by ancient snowdrifts.

On the third day, their procession descended toward a city that seemed carved from winter's breath.Great spires of pale blue crystal rose from a basin of perpetual frost. Bridges of translucent stone arched over slow-moving rivers, their waters steaming faintly in the cold.

And at the heart of it all stood the palace of Queen Erithia — a labyrinth of towers and balconies, each adorned with delicate frozen banners that caught the wan sunlight and broke it into fleeting rainbows.

As they entered the gates, Lyra pressed closer to Ren, her power coiling tightly around them both. He could feel the subtle tension in her shoulders.

"Promise me something," she whispered.

"Anything."

"If their queen tries to tempt you — with gifts, with whispered alliances, with her own body — you'll remember who watched you burn for her first."

Ren turned, cupping her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Lyra, listen to me. There are temptations everywhere. That's what thrones do — they test, they reach, they hunger. But there's only one place my heart kneels. Only one name I'd ever carve into my ribs."

Her exhale was shaky. "Then let them see it. Let them see how ruinous it is to envy what we have."

They were led through the palace by silent courtiers dressed in cloaks of thin white fur. Everywhere Ren looked, subtle enchantments danced: chandeliers that dripped slow-moving snowflakes, floors that rippled like frozen lakes beneath their feet.

At last they came to a vast receiving hall. Its ceiling soared high above, hung with delicate chains of frost-laced crystal. A throne of sheer ice sat at its end — and upon it lounged Queen Erithia.

She was breathtaking in a way that felt almost unreal.Her skin was luminous, pale as morning frost. Long silver hair spilled over her shoulders, decorated with tiny sapphires that caught every flicker of light. Her eyes were a piercing, inhuman blue — the color of a glacier's hidden heart.

When she rose, her gown unfurled around her in layers of gossamer so fine they seemed woven from winter's breath itself. She smiled, slow and assessing, as her gaze swept over Ren… then settled on Lyra with an intrigued tilt.

"So this is the mortal who walked through Miraye's Veil unclaimed," Erithia murmured. Her voice was soft, but it carried through the hall with effortless authority. "And the goddess who held him so tightly he never once reached for another."

Lyra's chin lifted. "Because he knows where true power lies. Not in your halls of brittle ice."

Erithia laughed, the sound cool and crystalline. "We shall see. Frost breaks many things that fire only tempers. Come — dine with me tonight. Let us discover whether your bond is truly so unassailable."

She extended her hand, the invitation unspoken but impossible to miss. Servants appeared instantly, guiding Ren and Lyra toward smaller thrones set just below Erithia's dais.

As they sat, Lyra leaned in, her breath ghosting over Ren's ear. "She thinks to unravel us slowly. Conversation, wine, subtle touches of magic woven into her words. Be wary."

Ren's grin was dark, hungry. "Let her try. It'll be all the sweeter when we remind her that some flames refuse to freeze."

Above them, faint auroras began to dance across the vaulted ceiling — soft blue and green ribbons that cast ever-changing shadows over Erithia's poised, expectant smile.

And somewhere deep in the queen's eyes, a flicker of something less certain shone.It wasn't fear — not yet. But it was the fragile start of fascination.