Page 4 of The Beautiful Blade

“Yes, Mother,” I replied, my voice flat. I did want the Lioness to think I was some Ember Fae. Then maybe she would think I wasn't good enough for her son.

The carriage jerked to a halt, throwing me forward. My hands flew to the window, bracing myself as I muttered a curse under my breath.

“What now?” I hissed, craning my neck to see outside.

The golden fields that had blurred into oblivion moments ago were now still, stretching endlessly beneath the two suns. The faint sound of voices reached my ears. The carriage door opened. Sunlight spilled inside, momentarily blinding me.

A man stood there, tall and poised, the very embodiment of servitude carved into flesh. His face was all sharp angles and precise lines, as if sculpted by someone who valued utility over beauty. High cheekbones gave him an almost regal air, but the severity of his expression undercut any warmth. Pale blond hair was pulled back with meticulous care, each strand so perfectly in place that it seemed almost unnatural, as though his appearance itself was a performance.

But it was his eyes that held my attention—gray as storm clouds, cool and unreadable. He was a man who understood his place and played his role with precision, never saying too much, never doing too little. The kind of person who could anticipate needs before they werespoken and quietly act on them without drawing attention to himself.

“Greetings, your royal highnesses. I am Colson, Chamberlain of Pridehaven Palace. Prince Adom has charged me with escorting you to the summer castle.”

"The summer castle?" said my mother. "We were told to arrive at the palace."

"Yes, Highness. However, the prince is waiting inside the summer castle, which is just down this road. He wishes to greet his bride in private before entering the palace grounds.”

A private meeting with the Beast Prince. The words churned in my stomach like spoiled nectar. That was not how I'd planned for this to go. I had planned never to set eyes on the Beast Prince.

"Princess Charlotte would be delighted to have a rendezvous with her betrothed," my mother was saying.

Chamberlain Colson gave a polite bow. The door to the carriage shut, and we were moving again. The moment we were out of hearing distance from the Chamberlain, the queen's calm façade dropped.

“Fix her. Now.”

I ignored my mother as she hurled commands at Belle. I ignored Belle as she got to work on me. The seamstress was handy with more than clothes. Her magic could also trim nails and remove dirt from the body or clothes.

Belle and my mother could remove all the dirt they wanted. I was busy working on another plan.

I had known this day was coming all my life. My twenty-first birthday was in just two days on the Hunter's Eclipse. That was the day the death blow would strike and my life would be over.

I had been waiting for this day. The anticipation of it had been the worst thing. Now that it was happening, I was pure reaction.

My initial plan had changed, but not my goal. I was closer to the city. I was closer to him. I just had to get free of my mother and this carriage, not go into the summer castle where my betrothed was waiting for me, get to the Convergence Games, and find him.

I'm yours, I heard him say in my ears, in my head, in my heart. It was the only truth I knew. He was mine, and I was going to get him back.

CHAPTER THREE

JORGE

Twelve years old

The stables smelled of clean hay, leather, and the musk of pegasus. It was a good smell, familiar and grounding in a way few things were. I crouched by Silverfoot, the oldest of the herd, and lifted his hoof, resting the weight of his leg against my knee. His silver coat shimmered in the filtered light that trickled through the gaps in the stable walls.

“Easy, boy. I’ll fix it.Just hold still.”

I ran my thumb along the edge of the lightweight metal shoe fixed to his hoof. The design was something I’d first created for the gredane, a way to ease their burden and give them more traction during long journeys. It curved to fit perfectly against the hoof and lined with a soft material that absorbed the impact. The pegasuses had taken to it just as naturally as the gredane, their wings catching less strain because of the even weight distribution.

For some reason, metal yielded to me. It listened to me. Sometimes I thought the material might even like me.

“There. All better.”

I patted Silverfoot's flank, and the animal flinched. Bruises, dark and angry, mottled the delicate membrane of his wings. Farther up, small rashes fanned out where the harness rubbed too tightly against his skin.

I moved down the row of stalls, inspecting the others. They weren’t much better off. I found more bruising, chafing, even small cuts where the straps had dug too deeply into flesh that was never meant to bear the strain of cargo.

Leaning against the stall door, I stared at the pile of discarded harnesses in the corner. Most were made of heavy leather. They dug into the wings, forcing theweight onto one part of the body. That was the problem. The weight wasn’t balanced. It was all concentrated in one place.

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