CHAPTER 9 The Offer of Zepharal

The great hall stilled as the cloaked man stood beneath King Aldric's iron gaze.

Outside, the rain whispered against stained glass, yet inside, the pressure was suffocating.

"Why would you want her?" Aldric's voice echoed like thunder.

"She's a cursed child. A useless shadow. Everything she touches dies."

The man did not flinch. Slowly, he unclasped his cloak and reached within.

What he withdrew shimmered with eerie beauty a scale. Not feathered, but sleek, dark as void, and large as a man's palm.

The court collectively gasped.

"That's not just a scale…" Maurel whispered. "That belongs to Zepharal."

The air grew colder.

Zepharal the Sky Mourner. A legendary dragon-bird of shadow and wind, said to be born in the aftermath of a god's death. Its breath could twist storms. Its blood could awaken dormant powers. Its wings could silence entire armies.

"Not slain," the man replied. "Bound. And I know where."

A murmur of disbelief surged through the nobles.

"I offer you, its location. Its blood. Its might," he continued.

"Give me the Thorn Princess, and your kingdom will rise as the strongest in the known world. Zepharal's return will make the West and East kneel."

He laid the scale on the marble and placed a single white lily beside it before turning away.

King Aldric's eyes froze on the flower. His late queen—Queen Lysandra—had adored lilies. It was her signature bloom.

Then chaos erupted.

"We should take the offer!" barked Lord Cael. "Do you know what it means to wield the Zepharal?"

"This is madness!" Lord Cael barked. "Do you understand what we could become if we had Zepharal?"

"And risk war with the West?" another courtier snapped.

"House Vale won't stand by while we give her away. The Western King supports them. The two crowns are practically bound by blood."

"She's cursed!" someone yelled. "Let her be their problem."

"She is still royal blood!" others countered.

Maurel stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the lily. "Why House Vale? Why Acheron?"

"Why did you choose House Vale?"

Aldric exhaled slowly, his face pale. "Because Acheron demanded it. He said… he promised to protect the realm."

Maurel's expression darkened. "The heir is near birth. Queen Elaris and her House Viranth will not remain silent if this causes instability. Her brother Duke Kaelen of Viranth commands the Archstone. They wield the Dominion of Echoes… a power that manipulates truth and memory

Meanwhile, Queen Seraphim, alone in the late Queen's chamber, stroked her growing belly with care. Her crimson gown shimmered as she unfolded a letter marked with Vale's seal.

Her lips curled into a smile sharp as glass.

"So… the downfall begins," she whispered.

The cold bit at Evelyne's cheeks as she stepped from the carriage, but her breath caught for a different reason.

Snowflakes danced in the wind, soft as whispered lullabies. A glow caught her eye—small winged creatures, no larger than butterflies, drifting toward her hand.

Snow fae.

Their translucent wings shimmered with frost light.

"By the saints… they've never come near a outsider before. They're usually aggressive."

"Rumors, maybe," a nearby servant whispered.

"But the North watches with its own eyes."

Acheron stood beneath a stone archway, deep in conversation with a silver-armored soldier.

"'The house Vale being summoned, Sire." the soldier said. "The West has reported movement from the East."

Acheron's jaw clenched. "We leave tonight."

A soldier Dain Thornehart elbowed Severin as they stood near the stables. "Bet you miss your palace slippers now, eh?"

Severin shot him a smirk. "Palace slippers don't kick cowards in the snow."

Laughter rippled through the soldiers, though the frost in the air never truly thawed. The men mounted swiftly, snow crunching beneath steel hooves.

Acheron swung onto his dark steed and paused just long enough to look back.

His eyes found Evelyne at the top of the steps.

He didn't speak, but something passed between them in that brief glance. A warning? A promise?

And then they were gone hooves pounding across frostbitten earth, disappearing into the veil of white beyond the Northern gates.

Evelyne stood still, her hands clenched in her cloak, watching until even Severin vanished in the snowy haze.

Later that evening, a servant entered her chamber with quiet reverence, holding out a single deep crimson rose and a folded letter.

I will return before the next snow.Trust the North it remembers its promises. -A.V.

Her fingers trembled.

She folded the letter carefully, placing it near her heart.

But peace never stayed long.

"Your Highness!" a voice suddenly chirped like a spring breeze bursting through winter.

Evelyne turned.

At the door stood a girl grinning ear to ear, cheeks flushed with excitement. She dipped into an overly dramatic curtsy, nearly losing balance as she did.

"I'm Rinna! Of House Caelwyn," she beamed.

"Your new lady-in-waiting. And I am so honored, Your Highness. I mean you're the Thorn Princess!"

Evelyne blinked, still recovering from the whiplash of enthusiasm.

"I mean, sure, people say you're cursed," Rinna added, entirely unbothered,

"But I think it's just tragic romance. Like epic level tragic. It's honestly so cool. You're like a heroine from a fae ballad, you know?"

The warmth in Rinna's voice, so naive and genuine, slid past Evelyne's walls like a knife through silk.

It made her chest ache.

She offered the girl a small, strained smile.

No.

No more attachments.

Everyone who ever loved her

died.

"I'm glad to serve you, my lady," Rinna continued cheerily, twirling slightly as she placed down a tray.

"And don't worry, I'm very hard to kill. Or so my five older brothers say."

That made Evelyne actually chuckle quiet, brief, but real.

She hadn't laughed in days.

And still… something inside her warned: don't let this one too close.

Even sunshine casts shadows.

The raven perched on the balcony's edge, unmoving its silver eyes locked onto Evelyne as though seeking something buried in her soul.

She paused, unsettled.

"Rinna," she said gently,

"you may leave. I can dress myself tonight."

Rinna hesitated. "But… I'm your lady-in-waiting now. It's tradition—"

Evelyne turned to her with a soft, sad smile.

"Please. I'm doing this for you."

The girl's expression faltered. Something unspoken passed between them.

Rinna gave a low curtsy. "I respect that, Your Highness."

And with a quiet bow, she left the chamber.

Evelyne stepped toward the balcony. A folded letter and crimson rose sat untouched on the dresser.Acheron's words echoed in her mind:

I will return before the next snow. Trust the North—it remembers its promises. —A.V.

She pushed open the balcony doors.

The raven remained.

"I will break this curse," Evelyne whispered.

"I'll be free."

The raven launched forward only to slam into the glass with a loud thud.

Startled, she gasped.

The bird flopped to the floor, dazed. Small. Clumsy. Its feathers were inky black, but its eyes… light grey.

Not the same raven.

Evelyne knelt, lifting the tiny creature in her hands.

"You're not a sign of death," she murmured. "You're just lost."

It gave a soft caw and fluttered back into the night sky.

She watched it go, a faint smile forming until a whisper crept through the cold:

"Evelyne…"

Her heart stopped.

She turned sharply.

"Evelyne…"

Evelyne left her chamber in silence, following the ghost of a voice she wasn't certain was real.

Down the candlelit corridor…Through the silent northern halls…And finally

Out into the moon-drenched manor garden, where snow blanketed the earth like lace.

The whisper vanished.

Frost clung to the edge of the marble benches.

The trees slept, skeletal and bare. And in the middle of the garden, where the soft wind stirred, stood the Ivyrose Hedge a pale-green wall of flowering vines that only bloomed under moonlight, its silver blossoms trailing like tiny stars.

She stepped past the hedges, boots crunching the snow.

Here, in the stillness of the Vale's garden, something bloomed in her chest.

A memory.

Luke's laughter the way he used to twirl his sword like a fool and make her laugh. Her dearest friend. Her protector. Gone.

Gone like the rest of them.

A snowflake landed on her cheek. Then another. Then—

Tiny lights flickered around her.The mythical snow fae.

Small, glowing beings with gossamer wings hovered near her hair, riding the strands like vines, touching her cheeks with fingers of frost.

She smiled softly, enchanted.

"She must be a goddess," a voice whispered.

Evelyne froze.

The voice came from behind the Ivyrose Hedge.

A little girl's voice awestruck, breathless.

"I told you not to talk!" another, younger voice whispered, followed by a quiet sob.

"I just wanted to see her…"

Evelyne stepped closer, gently brushing the ivy aside.

Behind the hedge were two children a girl with snow-dusted curls and bright eyes full of wonder, and a little boy rubbing his teary eyes, a small bruise blooming on his forehead.

The girl gasped. "She heard us!"

The boy sniffled, clinging to the girl's coat. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to spy…"

Evelyne knelt, her voice soft and kind. "It's alright. You didn't scare me."

The little girl stared up at her, whispering, "You really are the Thorn Princess…"

Evelyne met her gaze, unsure whether to smile or cry.

But before she could speak again the wind shifted. The snow fae scattered like sparks.

And high above them, perched on the tallest spire, a raven watched with gleaming, intelligent eyes. Its head tilted Once. Twice. Then it let out a cry not the call of a bird, but something almost human.

"Run," the little boy whispered suddenly, eyes wide with terror. "He's coming…"

Evelyne turned sharply.

"What did you say?"

But the boy was backing into the hedge, trembling.

"He always comes after the raven."

"Who?" Evelyne demanded, voice rising like the wind. "Who comes?"

Then

A cold breath swept the garden. The shadows thickened.

And from beyond the hedge…a figure moved.

Not walking.

Gliding.

Tall, robed in black, face hidden beneath a mask of bone and ash.

The children screamed.

The raven launched into the sky with a piercing shriek.

And Evelyne stood frozen, breath white in the cold, as the figure raised a gloved hand

And whispered her name.

"Evelyne."