Azra Lyroth fidgeted in the small cramped coach, constantly tugging at the tight white collar that was firmly strapped around his neck. Though it was a symbol of his status and the role he was meant to play, to Azra it meant that he was captive…and owned. Concealing the collar with the high trim of his tunic, he couldn’t help but feel suffocated, longing to be alone in his room where he could finally remove it and breathe once more.  

After days of long and arduous journeying, there was a small triumphant sense of relief as the carriage finally came to a stop. Sitting forward, Azra pulled back the fine, deep-blue velvet curtains that covered the gilded windows, unsure what to expect as he reached his destination. In the distance, peering over lofty castle walls, the realm outside was foreign to him; it was a stormy world of gray skies and mountains capped with snow. Through the mighty front gate, just before it closed and sealed him inside the keep, Azra caught a glimpse of the lush forest that ran through the land, shrouded in thick and heavy mountain mist. 

With a solid slam of thick metal, Azra’s world was suddenly surrounded by the gray polished stone of the large circular courtyard. Everything was dreary and colorless…and made Azra’s chest ache for home. He missed the bright sunlight that shone through emerald leaves and the warm natural springs of Solvale. He missed the warmth of his dwelling and the blooms of flowers outside his bedroom window… 

Grimacing, Azra sank back into the plush seat as he wondered what would happen if he never got out of the carriage. Would he be dragged out by force? Could he demand to take the many days journey back to Solvale?

Despite his internal wishes, in the end it wouldn’t matter what his options were- for his father’s sake, there was only one path he could choose: Get out of the carriage and meet the man who had summoned him to this frigid wasteland. 

Across from his window, the small door to the carriage opened, letting in a cold draft and harsh wind. Azra shivered against the chill that whipped at his exposed skin, pulling his heavy fur-trimmed gray cloak tighter around his embroidered white tunic and lavish attire. He could feel his pulse, tight in his throat as he reached his slender fingers up to his neck once more. They brushed the thick collar- a small reassurance that when he stepped out of his father’s coach and set foot on this new land, he would at least be safe.

With a sinking heavy heart, Azra was finally left with no choice; he ducked out of the carriage and looked up past the faint flurries of snow at the looming castle they had stopped in front of. It was made of dark gray stone and marble- as if it was carved from the mountains itself. Tall towers rose up toward the stormy sky, fixed with elegant arched and oriel windows that glowed with cut crystal. While it was breathtaking and larger than any castle or palace Azra had seen, it was cold and foreboding… nothing like what Azra knew of home. 

“Your Highness…are you alright?” a female voice asked; a hand extended for Azra to grasp. 

Azra took the woman’s hand as he carefully walked down the icy carriage steps before his laced boots hit the cobblestone ground. Azra pried his eyes away from the castle, letting go before looking up at her with a forced smile. “I am, thank you Gwen.” While Azra was slight and slender with fair skin and light lavender eyes and hair, his escort was a strong, dark beauty. 

Gwendolyne’s rich dark skin and long tightly curled locks stood out against the frost and stone. Her sharp brown eyes looked worried as she stared down at him, her eyebrow peaked in question. Wearing the white and gold uniform of a Solvalian knight, Gwen looked more regal than Azra felt, wishing he had even a fraction of her confidence. Giving off a heavy exhale, Gwen pulled back her thick shoulders as she looked the prince over with sympathy. “You have your…valuables?” she asked quietly, her eyes glancing to his throat and pocket. 

Tensing, Azra nodded as he murmured, “I have everything I need.”