The grand hall glittered with opulence as the banquet unfolded, the crystal chandeliers casting warm, golden light over the gathering of nobles and dignitaries. The air was alive with laughter and hushed conversation. Freya stood on the periphery, feeling like a shadow amidst the splendor. Her mother had insisted she wear the emerald gown that matched her teal eyes, her auburn hair swept up in elegant curls. Yet, despite the luxurious finery, Freya felt more out of place than ever.
It had been years since she’d last attended such an event, and the stares from the crowd only heightened her discomfort. Whispers followed her like a trail of smoke, their speculative judgments radiating from every corner. Some eyes were filled with curiosity, others with fear. It was as though her very presence reminded them of a truth they preferred to ignore.
"Freya." Marian’s voice cut through her thoughts, warm and familiar.
Her older sister approached, radiant in a silver gown that shimmered like moonlight, her raven-black hair cascading in perfect waves. Marian’s smile was genuine as she took Freya’s hands in hers.
“You look beautiful,” Marian said, her voice light and sincere.
“Thank you,” Freya replied, though her words came out strained. “You look... breathtaking.”
Marian chuckled softly. “It’s my engagement banquet, Freya. I have to look the part.”
Freya tried to return her sister’s smile, but it felt more like a mask. Despite the years of isolation, she couldn’t deny the warmth of Marian’s kindness, and the pang of longing that tugged at her heart. She had missed this—the simplicity of connection.
“Come,” Marian said, her tone brightening. “I want you to meet him.”
Freya’s steps faltered. “Him?”
“My fiancé,” Marian said, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Gregory. He’s the third prince of Gavaline.”
The words struck Freya like a physical blow, her breath catching in her throat. Prince Gregory? No. It couldn’t be. Her mind reeled as Marian continued to lead her through the crowd.
The world around her blurred, and all Freya could focus on was the growing tightness in her chest. As they neared the dais, a tall figure stood with his back to them. When he turned, her worst fears were confirmed.
It was Greg.
He was different now, dressed in regal attire that marked his station—a navy velvet coat embroidered with gold, a silver sash across his chest. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, his deep green eyes scanning the room with a detached intensity that only deepened Freya’s confusion.
When his gaze landed on her, the world seemed to stop. The crowd, the music, the very air around them vanished, leaving only the two of them in that moment.
Freya’s heart thundered, a storm of confusion, betrayal, and heartbreak crashing through her. He lied to me. All these years, he lied.
“Gregory,” Marian said, breaking the heavy silence, her voice light with affection. “This is my sister, Freya. Freya, this is Gregory, my fiancé.”
Gregory’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, the mask he had so carefully put on cracked. He bowed stiffly, his voice strained but polite. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Freya.”
Freya stared at him, her mind flashing through every shared moment—the laughter, the quiet nights under the stars, the kiss that still lingered on her lips. He had never told her who he really was. He had never told her he was promised to someone else. And now, he was marrying her sister.
“The pleasure is mine,” Freya managed, her voice colder than she intended. She forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Marian beamed, oblivious to the weight of the moment. “Isn’t he wonderful? Gregory has been nothing but kind and honorable. I’m so lucky to have him.”
Gregory flinched slightly at her words, his gaze flickering toward Freya. In that fleeting moment, Freya saw the crack in his composure. It ignited a flash of anger within her.
“Truly,” Freya said, her words cutting sharper than she meant. “You’re very lucky.”
Marian, caught up in her happiness, didn’t notice the sharp edge in Freya’s voice. With a bright smile, she excused herself to greet another guest, leaving Freya and Gregory standing alone.
The silence stretched between them, suffocating and thick. Finally, Freya spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gregory? Is that who you are?”
He winced at her tone, his eyes betraying a flicker of guilt. “Freya, I—”
“How long were you going to lie to me?” she interrupted, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. “Or were you planning to tell me at all?”
Gregory looked away, his expression heavy with regret. “I didn’t lie. I just... didn’t tell you everything.”
Freya’s laughter was bitter. “Didn’t tell me everything? You’re a prince, Greg. You’re marrying my sister. And you kissed me.”
His green eyes snapped back to hers, guilt and sorrow filling them. “I didn’t plan for any of this, Freya. I didn’t plan to care about you.”
Her heart twisted painfully, but she refused to let him see how deeply his words cut. “Well, congratulations, Your Highness,” she said coldly. “You’ve played your role perfectly.”
Before he could respond, Freya turned sharply on her heel and walked away, her vision blurred by the tears threatening to spill. She couldn’t stay in that room, not with him standing there, not with the weight of his betrayal hanging in the air like an unbearable storm.
As the music swelled and the laughter of the banquet echoed around her, Freya slipped quietly out of the hall, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t untangle. Her powers simmered dangerously beneath the surface, but she held them in check. Not here, not in front of all these people.
Outside, the cool night air bit at her skin, but it did little to ease the fire that burned inside her. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms, as she stared up at the starry sky.
Gregory had been her escape, her hope, the one person who had made her feel seen. And now, he was her sister’s future.
The betrayal stung deeper than any wound. But more than that, it ignited something else—a determination that had been simmering beneath the hurt. No matter how much it hurt, Freya realized she couldn’t keep waiting for a place beside anyone else. It was time to carve her own path, even if it meant walking it alone.
YOU ARE READING
Flames
Fantasy## A fiery heart, a desperate escape, a destiny to fulfill. Freya, a young woman with the power to control fire, has been imprisoned in her own home for years, feared for the very gift that makes her unique. Haunted by loneliness and a desperate ye...
