The first day of the tournament had come quickly, and Riven accepted her brother’s hand as he helped her out of the carriage. She had worked late into the night to finish the two pins in time, and Riven reflexively tapped the pocket in her dress to make sure they were there. It had taken intense begging to get Taryn to take her to the first tournament, and he had only relented after a lengthy lecture about keeping a low profile.

Taryn wasn’t fooled by her sudden enthusiasm; he knew well enough that her interest in the tournament had more to do with her recent rebellious streak than with any love for swordplay. But in the end, he’d agreed, albeit with the strict stipulation that she was not to leave the grounds without him. She knew her brother had no intention of chaperoning her, and that was the reason she had asked him instead of either of their parents.

The air was thick with excitement, and a faint buzz of energy hummed around the tournament grounds, filling the early morning air with the lively murmur of vendors, spectators, and knights preparing for the day ahead. Banners displaying the colors and crests of Vassoria’s noble families fluttered from high posts, their edges flickering in the gentle breeze as families, children, and knights alike filled the stands. Riven tugged her cloak closer around her shoulders, her eyes scanning the sprawling grounds as she walked with Taryn, careful to keep her expression neutral despite her growing excitement.

She had spent countless hours crafting two pins, pouring over designs until her fingers ached and the faint scent of lacquer clung to her skin. Each pin was unique, subtle in design yet meaningful in detail. The one she’d made for Elias had been her primary focus, but she’d created a second one with enough ambiguity that she hoped only those who knew of her intentions would know that it was her design.

“Alright,” Riven paused as Taryn finally stopped, and she noticed they were standing in front of the stands meant for nobles. “This should be an easy spot for you to find again. Meet me here as soon as the last match is over and we should be able to get home with Mother or Father knowing we were here.”

“Thanks again, Taryn,” Riven managed to smile, not trying to hide her genuine gratitude. Taryn was always on their parents side when it came to big decisions, but he was also barely twenty-one. He was known to be rebellious at times, and Riven learned how to play to his rare moments of leniency.

“Just don’t make me regret it,” he replied, though a hint of a smirk tugged at his mouth. “If I hear even a whisper of you wandering where you shouldn’t, I’ll haul you back to the estate myself.”

Riven gave a playful salute, and with a last look, Taryn made his way to find some friends, leaving her with a quiet sense of freedom that she wasn’t about to squander. She took a deep breath, feeling the hum of anticipation around her as knights filed past in their ceremonial armor, swords sheathed at their sides, some exchanging brief words of encouragement or sizing up the competition.

Keeping her head low to avoid drawing attention, Riven slipped into the more crowded parts of the grounds, where the commotion was loudest, edging her way closer to the area where the knights were preparing. She’d committed the tournament layout to memory, enough to know that if she timed it right, she could speak with Elias for a few moments before the first match. If anyone saw her, she’d simply feign a casual interest, claiming she was only there to observe the knightly preparations up close.

Heart hammering, Riven reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the two pins she’d spent nights crafting. They felt cool and weighty against her fingertips, and she found herself gripping them tightly, hoping they’d convey the loyalty and care she couldn’t speak aloud. The pin for Elias bore a subtle design inspired by Myelia, hoping that the star motif wouldn’t be too overt. The other was more elaborate, where she had made the star obvious; after all, she had already revealed that she planned to give one of the knights a second pin and she was looking forward to a chance to annoy Yvette even more.

She weaved her way forward, keeping an eye out for Elias among the knights preparing near the stables, her heart racing in a quiet rhythm of anticipation. But just as she turned a corner, a sudden weight barreled into her, knocking her off balance. Riven fell back, quickly looking up to see who she had bumped into.

There, clad in dark armor and every inch the imposing figure of a seasoned warrior, stood a young man with strikingly familiar ice blue eyes—a disguise, yes, but one she recognized with a jolt that sent her heart plunging.

Calia, or rather, Mikael, as the former princess had disguised herself in this formidable male persona for the tournament. Her long black hair was now medium length and  pulled back to accent the sharp cheekbones and hint of stubble on her chin. It was a perfect way to disguise who she truly was, and Riven’s blood ran cold. She had never snuck out to the tournament in her previous life, content to only go to the National Tournament with her family in order to see Calia win. That had always been at a distance, and to see how handsome this disguise was up close…

Well, it was almost unfair.

“Apologies, m'lady. I should have been more aware,” Riven jumped as Calia spoke, extending her armor clad hand to help her stand. Mikael’s voice was low, softer than she would have expected but with a roughness that hinted at a life spent among warriors. Riven took the offered hand, her own trembling slightly as she rose, acutely aware of the steadiness of Mikael’s—Calia’s—grip. As she steadied herself, she managed a smile, hoping it masked her nerves.

“N-No, it’s my fault. I should have been watching where I was going,” Riven stammered, hoping her flustered tone might be taken for bashfulness rather than alarm. She released Calia’s hand quickly, half-expecting the princess to recognize her with that icy stare alone.

“A curious place to be wandering, my lady,” Calia said, Riven’s brain still trying to adjust to the masculine voice. “The preparation grounds aren’t often frequented by noblewomen—at least not unaccompanied.”

The comment, though polite, held an undercurrent of subtle scrutiny. Riven swallowed, searching for words that would both satisfy Mikael’s question and prevent her from arousing any more suspicion. She forced a calm smile, instinctively slipping a hand into her pocket to feel the familiar weight of the pins.

“I… was actually looking for you,” Riven managed, pulling out the star pin as she offered it to the princess. “I know it’s not common, but there… there are no rules about knights n-not accepting a second pin.”

Riven cursed herself for her nervousness, hoping that Calia wouldn’t look too deep in the gesture. She hadn’t intended to give the spare pin to the princess, but all things considered, it felt safer to make a quick, impulsive gesture than to risk arousing more suspicion by retreating. Her heart pounded, her fingers still clasped around the pin, as she extended it toward the princess.

For a beat, Calia looked down at the pin with narrowed eyes, her expression unreadable. Then, to Riven’s surprise, she extended a gloved hand and took it, the star catching a glint of sunlight as it passed between them.

“An unusual offering, my lady,” Mikael said, examining the pin with a slight, bemused smile that Riven couldn't help but imitate. It was nice to see Calia smile like that. “Few noblewomen seem inclined to show such open support for an unknown knight.”

Riven could feel her face flush under Calia's scrutiny, unsure whether her own audacity had bought her a modicum of safety or just planted more questions in the princess's mind. She straightened herself, trying to channel the confidence she so often admired in the stories of noblewomen who navigated the court with grace and poise.

“Some of us find the nameless have more valor than those with names and titles,” she replied, a flicker of real conviction slipping into her voice as she met Calia’s eyes. “I merely want to give a token of my support. I would love to see you win, Sir Mikeal.”

Calia’s eyes glinted with something unreadable, and for a moment, Riven thought she might have crossed a line. But instead, she nodded, a faint smile curving her lips. “Then I’ll take this as a sign of good fortune. Thank you, my lady.”

The sincerity in her tone left Riven momentarily disarmed, and she could only nod in response. She watched as Calia placed the pin next to the one Earl Illirian’s daughter had made for her, and something about the sight of both pins nestled side by side on Calia’s armor gave Riven a strange sense of satisfaction. A small victory, perhaps, to actually support her favorite character in a way that felt tangible. But before she could fully process the moment, Calia had turned her attention elsewhere, casting a last, lingering glance back at Riven before disappearing into the throng of knights readying for the tournament’s start.

Riven exhaled, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The sudden silence of her own thoughts seemed almost as deafening as the noise that filled the grounds around her. For one surreal moment, she had stood face-to-face with the princess who was both the light and heart of the empire and the blade that would decide Riven’s fate. Of course, facing Calia as Mikeal was easier than facing her as her true self, and Riven closed her eyes, resting her hand on her chest.

“Lady Riven?”