Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 5: Darians Arrival

Filipe and Jonie burst into my room before dawn painted the sky. Their arms overflowed with a cascade of dresses. Jonie deposited the pile onto my bed, then held up a single gown. It was a breathtaking blue, the fabric flowing like water over the hanger. Tiny golden sparks adorned the bodice, catching the faintest light and making it shimmer. The embellishment softened as it cascaded down the skirt.

"The queen and I both favor this one, Your Highness," Jonie announced. "She specifically requested you wear it today."

I nodded, the weight of the day settling upon me. Prince Darian's arrival. Our engagement. A formality, unless I dared to defy my mother. An unlikely rebellion.

My hair was soon a neat braid, coiled into a high bun, a delicate golden headpiece nestled above where my crown usually sat. The reflection staring back at me was undeniably regal, a princess in appearance, a role I rarely felt within. Even now, adorned in finery, I felt like an imposter in my own skin.

For Atalar, I repeated silently, a mantra against the unease. Not for Mother. For my people. This thought, this singular purpose, would be my anchor through the coming years.

The ballroom was a vision. Curtains drawn wide, sunlight flooded the space, illuminating tables laden with a tempting array of food and desserts. Banners bearing the Atalarian crest hung proudly from every available wall.

I had never witnessed the ballroom in such splendor. Celebrations had been scarce in recent years.

A long carpet of blue and gold stretched from the grand entrance to the raised thrones at the room's far end.

I seemed to be the last to arrive. The royal family was already positioned beside the gilded thrones. Sebastian, Clifton, Tristain, and Brylee stood on Father's side, arranged by age. On Mother's side, Breya was next to Amora with Brock following and then me. I was grateful for Brock's solid presence who separated me from Amora.

Scanning their attire, I felt conspicuously overdressed. My sisters wore simple gowns, the kind they might wear on any given day. Had this been orchestrated to make me stand out, the focus of this momentous occasion?

I walked the short distance to my place. Breya offered a small, encouraging nod, a surprising gesture from my usually distant sister. It sparked a flicker of confidence within me. The others offered silent nods, their gazes fixed on the floor. Amora, however, scrutinized me with undisguised loathing, her lip curling in a silent sneer.

I took my place beside Brock.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. I offered a small, noncommittal smile. My anger at his recent deception still simmered, yet his compliment was a balm nonetheless.

"Aleah," he said again, his voice barely audible. "I know you're angry, but please know that whatever happens, I will always be there for you."

A warmth spread through my chest at his unwavering loyalty. Even in my resentment, I knew I could always count on him.