Azalea POV
I always thought the Drakemonts were lazy, prideful, and completely full of shit.
So when an invitation arrived for the heir's birthday celebration, sealed in red wax and gold trim, my first instinct was to pretend it never existed. I would have, too, if my sister had not found it on my desk and sneered.
"It'll be worth your time," Helle said, already reaching for her cloak, fully prepared to go with me.
I am weak to my sister's words. I have always been. So despite knowing nothing beyond the rumors and the stories whispered by retainers, I went with her.
The Drakemont mountains rose like frozen teeth against the sky, their peaks buried beneath layers of snow that never seemed to melt.
The locals called it Frostveil Crown. Wind howled through the passes, tugging at our cloaks, numbing fingers even through thick gloves. The palace sat carved into the mountainside, dark stone half swallowed by ice, banners snapping violently overhead.
Inside, everything gleamed.
