Riven did her best to hide her sigh as she accepted Taryn’s hand to help her out of the carriage, annoyed by the dress she was wearing. It was red and white, the traditional colors for a new debutante and accented with more sapphire jewels, the bright blue representing her house. The many layers made moving annoying, and somehow the dress was worse to wear the second time around.

From what Riven remembered, she was nineteen now and if she couldn’t somehow change the circumstances of her family, she would be imprisoned before she turned twenty-one. That gave her less than two years to find a way to shift things in her favor, and as she glanced up at the grand estate where her debut was to be held, a chill crept over her. Less than two years… that was all she had to alter a path that had once seemed inevitable.

Around her, the estate gleamed with opulence; tall, sprawling marble pillars framed a sweeping entrance lined with intricate carvings that cast delicate shadows beneath the gaslit chandeliers. The grounds were already teeming with guests, and Riven knew they were only a fraction of the crowd who would soon gather in the hall. All eyes would be on her and the other girls debuting tonight, each one paraded before Vassoria’s elite as if they were precious wares to be appraised, acquired, or discarded.

“Try to at least appear comfortable, Riven,” Taryn murmured, casting a quick, assessing glance around them as her feet finally landed on the ground. “Father has spent considerable time ensuring your debut is received as favorably as possible.”

She forced a small smile, as much for his benefit as for the watching eyes, yet internally her mind churned. If only he knew how seriously she was taking the debut this time around. 

“I will do my best, Taryn,” she did her best to smile brightly, noticing the slight surprise on her brother’s face as he finally released her and turned away. He was supposed to be her chaperone for the night, but Riven knew he would mostly leave her to her own devices. After all, this was too good of an opportunity for Taryn to spend some time with his own friends, and he wasn’t one to miss such an opportunity.

Riven took a deep breath, walking away from the main entrance toward a side path that led to the gardens. She already knew what the inside looked like: glittering with polished silverware, lush drapes, and the hum of dozens of conversations blending together in a harmonious cacophony. Here, veiled within each glance, each calculated word, lay the power plays and ambitions of Vassoria’s nobility. This event, as exhausting and hollow as it seemed on the surface, could very well determine the future of each girl present. 

“Who approached me after the ceremony?” Riven mumbled to herself, as she threaded through the side path, recalling the string of would-be suitors who had come forward after her debut in her previous life. The faces of young lords and noblemen from middling houses flickered through her mind, each of them polite but unremarkable, representatives of families with little sway over the court’s brutal machinations. Most had offered small promises of partnership, spoken with half-hearted smiles as they entertained other debutantes nearby, their gazes drifting before the evening was even over. None of them had the power to prevent her family’s fall, not that they would’ve cared to try.

A wave of frustration swept over her. There was only one option, then; to align herself with someone new, to somehow become an asset to one of the stronger families in the story. Riven paused in her walk as the thought crossed her mind, glancing up at the fading sunlight. 

“There’s only one duchess and one marquess in the empire and those two are heavily aligned with Calia’s uncle,” Riven cursed under her breath, recalling the complicated alliances that shaped the court’s power structure. They were the highest-ranking families beneath the imperial line itself, and both had firmly tied themselves to the emperor’s ambitions long before Calia’s father had even passed. The possibility of gaining favor with them felt slim but they represented her best chance to survive the upcoming storm.

‘If only I were the sort of protagonist with charm to spare,’ she thought wryly, clenching her fists at her sides as she resumed her walk, her mind twisting over the few potential paths she had. 

She stepped carefully as she circled the garden, inhaling the soft, floral scents of late-blooming roses and lilies. After those years spent in that stone cell, spring was one season that Riven had still looked forward to. The smell of blooming flowers always carried a sense of hope and was a small light in those dark and pained moments. Riven’s thoughts drifted to the shooting star she had seen before dying, taking a moment to sit on one of the benches.

“I wonder whether it was Liora or Noctyra who granted my wish,” Riven wondered aloud, although she knew that she likely didn’t want to know the answer. Neither of the goddesses were known for their mercy or kindness, and if her return was indeed their doing, it was just as likely to be a trial as a gift. A loud bell rang out over the garden and Riven slowly stood. The event would officially begin when the third bell rang, so she had to gather herself and make her way inside.

As she turned, her heel caught on a stray stone, and in an instant, her footing slipped. She stumbled forward, a jolt of panic running through her as she prepared to meet the ground in a most undignified fashion. But just as she braced herself for impact, a steady hand caught her arm, warm and firm.

“Careful there,” a soft, amused voice murmured.

Riven straightened, glancing up into the face of the man who had caught her. He looked about the same age as her, with light green hair that caught the fading sunlight and shimmered with an almost ethereal glow. His eyes were golden, bright and piercing, holding her gaze with a steady intensity that left her momentarily speechless. His clothing was finely tailored, but not in the heavy, embellished style typical of Vassoria’s nobility; his attire bore an understated elegance, and she couldn’t place his rank or even his house. 

“Thank you,” she replied, quickly recovering herself and inclining her head slightly in gratitude. “I’m afraid I am known to have a delicate constitution.”

“Delicate?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smile curving his lips as he spoke, and he released her arm with a lightness that almost made her miss the warmth of his grip. 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that,” he continued, his voice carrying an edge of dry amusement. “From what I just saw, you don’t seem the type to sway with the wind or crumble from a mere stone.”

Riven felt a strange pang of both curiosity and unease. Most men at these events would have brushed off her apology without a second thought, perhaps with a courteous but empty response. Yet, there was something in his gaze that seemed to see past her carefully crafted facade and she began to wonder if he had overheard her. It wasn’t taboo to say the names of the goddesses, but it wasn’t exactly common either. Even attracting Liora’s attention could go poorly for those involved and Calia’s dark fate was enough for Riven to understand why even fewer called for her sister.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The young man’s voice pulled Riven from her thoughts, and as he spoke, the sound of the second bell echoed across the garden, a reminder that she had only moments left to join the others inside. She steadied herself, offering him a polite, if distracted, smile.

"Yes," she replied, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs, though whether from the fall or from the way he had looked at her, she wasn’t sure. "Thank you again."

The young man inclined his head, that faintly amused smile still on his lips. "Of course. It’s not every day one meets a debutante on the verge of tumbling headlong into a rose bush."

Riven felt the faintest flush creep into her cheeks, both at his playful tone and the realization that he was clearly not a member of her family’s usual circle. She resisted the urge to linger, though something about his presence seemed to tether her momentarily to the spot. But the second bell was a sharp reminder of her need to focus, and with a slight nod, she turned and made her way toward the hall’s entrance, joining the gathering crowd.