Drexo's hands trembled. Not slightly. Not something he could hide by clenching his fists or straightening his shoulders. It was there. Visible, and alive.
For a moment, he opened his mouth. The word "no," rose inside him, sharp and clear, pushing against his throat, demanding to be set free. He could feel it. He could almost taste it.
But it stopped. Right there. His lips parted, and nothing came out. His chest tightened. His gaze shifted. Almost against his will. It found the throne.
The King. Derion Dragarian was already watching. Not casually. Not idly.bWaiting. Their eyes met. And in that instant, something passed between them.
The King didn't speak. He didn't need to. His lips moved just slightly. Barely noticeable. But Drexo saw it. He was saying:
"Havana."
The name didn't reach his ears. It didn't need to. It hit him anyway. Hard, and intense.
Drexo's breath caught in his throat. His body stiffened, like something invisible had wrapped around him and tightened.
The word he wanted to say, it disappeared. Just like that. His eyes burned. And then, a tear slipped down.
Slow, and uncontrolled. The hall noticed. A ripple moved through the crowd. A faint gasp here. A whisper there. It didn't break the silence.
But it disturbed it. Across the hall, Maria saw it. Her brows pulled together slightly, confusion flashing across her face. "What is going on inside him?"
She didn't say it aloud. But it was written all over her. Drexo lifted his head. Slowly. His vision blurred for a second before clearing again. The High Priestess stood before him, waiting.
Still, and ynmoved. "Drexo Dragarian." Her voice remained calm. Steady. "Do you?" His throat tightened.nHis chest rose. Then fell. "I do," he said.
The words came out. Clear enough. Loud enough. Heavy, and the hall exhaled. As one. Like everyone had been holding something in.
Then, ut erupted. Applause thundered across the hall, loud and overwhelming, filling every corner, bouncing off the walls, rising higher with each passing second.
Smiles appeared. Glasses lifted. Voices rose. But not everywhere. One hand did not clap.
Maria Woodland.
Her fingers were clenched tight against her lap, her nails pressing into her skin. Her face remained still, but her eyes, they didn't move from Drexo. Not even for a second.
The High Priestess moved again. The knife gleamed faintly as she lifted it. Without hesitation, she took Drexo's hand. The blade slid across his palm.
Clean, and precise. A thin line opened. Blood welled up instantly. Drexo didn't flinch. He didn't react. The pain he was feeling inside was more than that of the cut.
Then she turned to Friya. "Do you, Friya Kenwool of House Kenwool," she began, her voice rising once more, "swear yourself to Drexo Dragarian of House Dragarian, to keep yourself and to wed him the moment you are of age?"
Friya's smile widened..There was no pause. No hesitation. No struggle.
"I do." The words came easily. Too easily.
The knife followed. A quick cut. Blood surfaced. The Priestess took both their hands and pressed them together.
Palm against palm. Blood touching blood. Then she wrapped the white cloth around them, binding them tightly, sealing what had just been spoken.
The applause rose again. Louder this time. More alive. The ceremony was done. The celebration began. Wine flowed.
Servants moved quickly between tables, carrying trays heavy with food. Laughter filled the space where silence had once ruled. Music rose, soft at first, then stronger, weaving through conversations and clinking cups.
The hall transformed. But not everyone changed with it. Maria sat still. She tried. She really did. Her lips curved slightly when needed. Her posture remained composed. But it wasn't enough.
Not quite. Something in her face refused to cooperate.nRobert noticed. Of course he always do.
He leaned slightly toward her, his voice gentle. "My dear, you do not look alright. Is there a problem?"
Maria shook her head quickly. Too quickly. "No, I am just not feeling too great." Robert's expression softened.
"I am sorry to hear that," he said. "I will have the physicians check on you tomorrow." Maria nodded. "May I be excused?"
"Of course," Robert replied without hesitation. "Get some rest. Come back stronger for me."
She smiled. Soft, and practiced. Then she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Across the hall. Drexo saw it. His fists clenched instantly. His jaw tightened, the muscles rising sharply beneath his skin..Something flickered in his eyes.
Dark, brief, but there.
Friya noticed. She didn't understand it. Not fully. But she saw enough..She placed her hand gently on his chest. "Relax, my love," she said softly. "I know you do not like these gatherings. It will be over soon."
Drexo didn't respond. His gaze had already moved, following Maria until she disappeared.
Robert watched her leave. Then turned slightly toward Edmond Woodland, who was focused on his meal. "Maria seems unhappy since she arrived," Robert said.
Edmond didn't look up immediately. When he did, his expression was calm. "The South is no place for a dove," he said simply. "She does not belong here." Robert nodded slowly. "She will leave soon."
Maria reached her chambers.nClosed the door.nLeaned against it. For a moment, she just stood there.nWaiting for something. Peace, maybe.
It didn't come. Instead, Images flooded her mind. One after the other. Drexo standing beside Friya. Their hands bound. The cloth tightening. The hall cheering.
Then, another memory forced its way in. Stronger, and closer.
That night. His lips. His touch. The way he held her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Her hands flew to her face. "Am I losing my mind?" Her voice sounded unfamiliar.
Too thin. Too strained.
She pinched her arm. Hard. The sharp sting grounded her, but only for a second. "I broke my oath," she whispered. "I lay with a man who now belongs to another."
The words felt heavier when spoken. More real. "And I cannot stop thinking about him.".A small, desperate laugh escaped her. "Forget him, Maria," she told herself. Her tone changed. Stronger now, and forced. "He is not yours." she paused. "And you are not his." She closed her eyes. "And you never will be."
That night, something shifted. Not healed. But quieted. Enough for sleep to find her.
Morning came gently. Too gently. Maria stretched slightly as her eyes opened. The room felt tight. Like the walls had moved closer while she slept.
She exhaled slowly. "I need air." The decision came easily. "I will go to the mountain." She moved quickly after that. She washed her face. Dressed up without hesitation.
Moments later, she was outside, mounting her horse in one smooth motion. The ride was fast. Wind against her skin. The ground rising beneath her. Within minutes, she was already climbing.
Higher.
Away from the noise. Away from everything. When she reached the top, she slowed. Then stopped.
She stepped down and stretched slightly, her body relaxing for the first time since the night before.
Then, the doves came. Soft wings. White feathers. They circled her, then settled, drawn to her presence like they always were.
She breathed in deeply. The air was clean. Light, free, and dor a moment.
She felt it. Peace.
Then, a voice echoed. "The doves came to you once again."
Maria turned instantly. Her body tensed before her mind caught up. And there, at the far corner, Drexo sat. Watching her.