Page 38 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

And Ash Acheron was days away from binding himself to her forever.

The Council was created over a thousand years ago. As we are the strongest kingdom, important matters that affect all kingdoms must be brought to the Council and voted on. My mother is on the Council and even though I do not have a seat on it yet, I am a trainee. I know the Council was created for a reason—to protect the kingdoms and to keep them united. But there is a part of me that worries. Sometimes the Council can be rather brutal, and on many occasions they have put their own desires for their own land before others. I see the way other kingdoms stare at us when they come forward with a petition. They no longer trust the Council. They believe we have become corrupted.

I hate to admit it, but they are not wrong.

Tabitha Wysteria

The Opening Feast was an occasion the castle had spent weeks preparing. At its core, it seemed simple—an evening of dining and dancing—but the reality was far more elaborate. Every detail had to be perfected before the first guest stepped into the Grand Hall. The decorations had been meticulously arranged, the food tasted and refined days in advance to ensure its flawlessness, and the music carefully selected to reflect tradition.

Though the feast was meant to celebrate the arrival of thewyverians, Alina couldn’t help but notice how unmistakablydrakonianit all was. The hall was awash in red and gold, the colours of their kingdom woven into every banner and tapestry. The tables groaned beneath the weight of their most traditional dishes, while the air thrummed with the sounds of drakonian melodies and familiar dances.

It was clear—the event was not about embracing the wyverians but about reminding them whose land they had entered. A silent declaration draped over every lavish display:This is drakonian soil. You are guests here.

Even though the princess was to join their family, it was evident that no part of their world would change to accommodate her. She would be the one expected to bend, to mold herself to their customs, to leave behind the ways of her people and become something else entirely.

Alina weaved through the growing crowd, the court murmuring with anticipation, their eagerness sharpened to a blade’s edge as they awaited the arrival of the princess. No one had seen her yet—only the royal family. The courtiers were practically vibrating with impatience, hungry for their first glimpse, their first chance to judge.

Alina wished to watch the moment unfold by her brother’s side, but, unsurprisingly, she could not find him. No doubt Ash had withdrawn into some darkened corner, keeping himself hidden from the masses.

And in truth, she could hardly blame him.

The drakonian court was a ruthless place, filled with whispers sharp enough to wound and ambitions that sought to tear apart anyone who stood in the way of power.

‘Where is your brother, dear?’ Queen Cyra inquired the moment Alina stepped onto the dais and took her place beside her mother.

What excuse could she offer for Ash’s delay? The queen was well aware of his unease in crowds, of how gatherings of this size unsettled him—but tonight was different. This was an event of great importance, and if he arrived late, the court would not be forgiving. Their scrutiny was sharp, their judgments ruthless. His absence would reflect poorly on them all.

‘He will be here in just a moment, mother,’ Alina said, dipping her head in a graceful nod as yet another court lady swept past, perfume trailing like a ghost in her wake. ‘No doubt he wishes to make an entrance. We wouldn’t want the wyverians stealing all the attention, would we?’

The queen’s gaze flickered, something sharp and unreadable gleaming within the molten fire of her irises. Despite their ember-like hue, there was no warmth in them, only the cold, cutting edge of tempered steel—colder, perhaps, than even the hearts of the Kingdom of Ice.

‘Perhaps I should go and inquire.’

‘No.’ The refusal was swift, clipped. ‘It is bad enough your brother is late. I do not need the royal princess vanishing as well.’

Alina pressed her lips together, swallowing her irritation just as a familiar figure appeared in the periphery of her vision. The moment she caught sight of him, her breath wavered in her chest, but she refused to betray herself. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she forced herself to ignore him, to act as though his presence did not unravel the very sinews of her composure.

Hagan took his place, falling into position with practiced ease, his face an unreadable mask of discipline.

Alina’s hands clenched at her sides, fingers curling into the fine silk of her gown, but still, a betraying tremor shuddered through her frame.

‘Are you cold?’ The queen’s voice was as crisp as shattering ice.

‘No, mother.’

A pause. A razor-thin hesitation beforethe queen’s next words landed like a needle pressing into tender skin.

‘Then do not shake. The court may begin to whisper that you are ill.’

‘Yes, mother.’

The doors to the hall opened and the court muttered with suppressed emotion, awaiting to see the wyverians’ arrival. However, it was not them on the other side.

Ash Acheron strode through the threshold, his bearing regal as he nodded in solemn greeting. Clad in his formal armour, he looked every bit the future king, a figure of poise and quiet strength.

Alina’s lips curved into a smile at the sight of him. He cut an imposing figure, towering over most, his golden horns gleaming so brilliantly that she wondered if the maids had polished them with special oils. A stunning sight to behold—evident from the way the ladies nearby sighed, their admiration barely concealed.

‘You’re late,’ the queen muttered.

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