***

Taryn kept his eyes locked on the form of his little sister below him, watching as she moved through the clusters of nobility with a rigid grace that he could hardly recognize. Riven was always dismissive of her lessons and only did the bare minimum at events, but she never did anything to embarrass him or the family. She had seemed as shocked as everyone around her, but Taryn was surprised she had allowed it to affect how she carried herself. 

Beside him, their father watched the scene with a tense expression, his lips pressed into a thin line. The faint crease in his brow hinted at something more than surprise: a calculation already taking shape behind his gaze.

“A blessing from Myelia,” he murmured, almost to himself, the words laced with a trace of incredulity. “Of all goddesses, a blessing from one who’s barely remembered outside of myth and superstition.”

Taryn stiffened, catching the faint hint of frustration in his father’s tone. Though he shared his father’s surprise, he could also see the danger in this twist of fate. As unusual as it was for a debutante to be blessed by a minor goddess, it made Riven into a wild card, something new in the predictable landscape of Vassoria’s society.

But before he could respond, Lady Idrina spoke up from behind them, a faint smirk touching her lips as she watched their reactions with a hint of amusement.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss her blessing, Evander,” Idrina said, her voice a low, musical tone that seemed to cut through the tension in the air. “She may not be Liora’s favored, but she’s something far more valuable now. Everyone will want to know what this means, and more importantly, what it could mean for their own alliances. Riven’s position has become...strategic. Maybe you need to stop pretending the Marlowe’s are on the sidelines.”

Evander’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face his sister. Idrina’s presence at events was rare enough, and her casual insight was a reminder of why she had always been regarded as one of the more clever members of the family. She met his stare calmly, one eyebrow arched as though challenging him to deny the truth of her words.

“Perhaps.” Lord Evander finally conceded, and Taryn agreed, looking back down as the ceremony continued. 

‘Perhaps.’

***

By the time that the ceremony finally ended, Riven felt as if she had been balancing on a knife’s edge, her composure frayed with each new glance and whisper from the crowd. The weight of her new title as Myelia’s chosen sat like a foreign burden, one she hadn’t asked for and certainly didn’t understand. She longed to escape, if only to collect her thoughts somewhere away from prying eyes.

To her irritation, her night’s ordeal wasn’t over yet; after all the debutante’s were tested, the newly “blessed” girls were whisked away to meet the head priests that interpreted the will of the goddesses. After determining how much magic each girl had, they would be assigned a teacher, either another woman with similar magic or a priest who was well versed. But for Riven, the situation grew murkier by the moment. The priests, draped in heavy robes embroidered with symbols of the goddesses, exchanged wary glances as she approached. A cluster of acolytes and curious onlookers had gathered at a respectable distance, though their eyes were glued to her in thinly veiled fascination.

"Lady Riven Marlowe," intoned the High Priest of Liora, a gaunt man whose sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through her. “A blessing from Myelia... is unheard of, as I’m sure you know. Have you ever heard the goddess’s voice?”

‘Can we accuse you of blasphemy and move on?’ Riven had to fight her scoff, doing her best to appear surprised and a moment from fainting as she shook her head. It was clear that all the priests wanted an excuse to just lock her away and be done with the situation rather than actually deal with something new. Well, she didn’t want this either, but clearly someone did.

“Without a priest of Myelia, we can offer no direct guidance,” the High Priest continued, his voice tinged with something between disdain and disbelief. “There has been no protocol established for such... a revelation.”

Riven fought to maintain her composure under the High Priest’s penetrating stare, willing her face to appear as placid and innocent as possible. Internally, her thoughts seethed, rattling against the reality of her new role like loose stones in a storm. Blessed by a goddess who has no priests, no protocol, and no precedent. Even the other girls, each with their own newly uncovered power, looked at her with expressions that mixed curiosity with veiled relief, likely glad that her strangeness had drawn the priests’ ire and not theirs.

Yet before she could respond, she felt a strange pull: a shift within her, soft and barely perceptible at first, then gaining insistence, like a distant hum that grew louder. A voice, clear and resonant, brushed the edges of her thoughts, neither comforting nor menacing, but simply there.

“Make a wish, and it will be granted.”

‘Anywhere but here,’ she thought immediately, barely even considering what such a dangerous wish might mean. ‘Let me be anywhere but here.’

The moment the thought crossed her mind, a soft light bloomed around her. It was unlike any light she’d seen, subtle yet iridescent, like starlight woven into the very air. The world around her dimmed as the light grew, its tendrils curling and twisting until it enveloped her completely, shielding her from the High Priest’s scrutiny and the murmurs of the onlookers. She barely had time to take a breath before the scene around her dissolved, the small private drawing room vanishing in a soft rush of starlit.

When the light finally faded, Riven found herself standing outdoors, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She blinked, trying to focus as her vision adjusted to the dimness. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass and a faint aroma of lavender filled the air, a stark contrast to the incense-heavy halls she had just left. Before her stood the same figure she had met in the garden earlier, his tall, lean silhouette highlighted by the moonlight.

The young man with green hair regarded her with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed as he looked her over, as though both amused and exasperated. He didn’t seem surprised to find her here; in fact, there was a slight smile on his face, as if he’d been expecting her arrival all along.

“Riven Marlowe,” he said slowly, a hint of laughter in his voice. “You seem to have quite the knack for trouble.”

Riven remained silent, trying to wrap her mind around what she had just done. First, she now had magic and on top of that, she had teleported herself away from the head priests. Since she hadn’t spoken her wish out loud, she could hope that they would interpret it as Myelia’s will, but if they didn’t she was as good as–

“Lady Marlowe?” The man’s voice finally snapped Riven to her senses, forcing her to shake off the dazed shock that clung to her. She had barely recovered from the ordeal inside the hall, only to find herself here, facing the very person who had helped her just hours before. Her gaze narrowed slightly as she studied him, the moonlight glinting off his bright green hair and casting his sharp features into even sharper relief.

“You seem remarkably calm for someone witnessing a rather unconventional entrance,” she said, allowing a touch of wry humor to color her tone as she gathered her composure. He had already seen that she wasn’t particularly frail; there was no reason to keep pretending and risk him taking it as an insult.

“I’ve seen much stranger, m’lady. Only the nobles of this land would be surprised by a minor goddess bestowing her blessings,” the man answered and Riven nodded. That made a lot of sense; he had given the air of a foreigner the whole time and since the novel was focused on Vassoria, it wasn’t like she knew much about what happened outside the empire. “And besides, I was hoping to run into you again.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I did not get to introduce myself earlier,” he replied, sweeping an elegant bow as he added, “I am Kaelen Taren. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance properly, Lady Marlowe.”

Riven’s mind stilled as recognition dawned, her breath catching as she registered the name. Kaelen Taren… the protagonist of Whispers of the Eternal Spring, the very romance novel she had read in her life as Shin and had been thinking about before she died in that lonely jail cell. But that book couldn’t be more different from The Silver Throne!

Before Riven could voice any of her questions, another voice echoed through the gardens.

“Riven! Riven, are you here?”

“I apologize, Lord Taren, but it seems my family is searching for me,” Riven murmured, and Kaelen’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he straightened from his bow, the faintest hint of a smirk gracing his lips. 

"No need to worry about apologies, Lady Marlowe," he replied smoothly, his gaze lingering on her with a curious warmth. “I doubt this will be the last time we meet.”

Riven could only manage a nod as she ran off in the direction of Taryn’s voice, her heart pounding with an intensity she hadn’t felt since her arrival in this world.

***

Kaelen watched as Riven disappeared around the corner, unable to help his smile. That girl certainly was… interesting.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Another voice caused Kaelen to chuckle, turning to see the shape of his father as Aurelian Taren approached him. “I was worried that you would have a harder time adjusting in such a new place.”

“No, I think I am fine, Father,” Kaelen’s voice trailed off, his eyes lingering on the spot where Riven had vanished. “In fact,”

“I think Vassoria’s better than I hoped.”

***