The carriage sped along the road leading north, toward the royal palace. As it passed, villagers watched and whispered with curiosity at the unusual sight; it was not common for the king himself to come to the city to fetch someone.

Eidan sat beside Sven, while a counselor reviewed with them the events that would unfold over the coming days.

“The wedding will take place in exactly six days,” she announced, a parchment unfurled across her lap. “That will be sufficient time for you to settle into the palace and finalize the preparations, my lord. I am certain it will mark the beginning of a wonderful life.”

Eidan could not help but smile.

He truly believed it.

He was about to take his betrothed’s hand when, as he turned toward him, something in his expression made him freeze. In the reflection of the window, Sven looked distant, a barely perceptible melancholy in his eyes as he watched the landscape slip away.

That sadness clashed painfully with the excitement burning in Eidan’s chest.

He knew him far too well to ignore it.

His heart lurched at a thought he refused to name. Not in this moment, he didn’t want to ask.

They arrived at the palace gates as dusk began to fall. The orange glow of the setting sun made the golden doors appear as though they were burning.

“My mother insisted on preparing a grand dinner,” Eidan said as he offered Sven his hand to help him down. “You know how she is. But I imagine you’ll want to settle in first.”

“Yes, I think I should prepare myself to withstand the queen’s banquets,” Sven replied with a faint smile.

Eidan nodded and, with a few simple gestures, set an entire retinue of servants into motion. Within seconds, they busied themselves gathering and arranging the prince’s few belongings.

“I must attend to some matters, but I’ll join you in the dining hall shortly.”

Before parting, Eidan gently kissed Sven’s hand. The gesture made the young man blush. The strangest part of it all was that quiet shift—from childhood friends to betrothed, and in a matter of days, consorts.

But everything had to proceed according to custom.

Sven took Nébula into his arms and followed the butlers and maids who had come to guide him to his chambers.

He was familiar with many parts of the palace, though not all, and he noticed that some rooms had been arranged differently—as if they had been prepared in advance to receive him.

Two young maids and a butler presented themselves before him, declaring their service. The butler, a mature man of impeccable bearing, carefully unfolded a change of clothes that had been prepared for that evening.

“Would you like assistance dressing, Your Highness?” one of the maids asked—a brown-haired girl—as she poured fragrant tea onto a small table.

“No, thank you. You may leave for now.”

The young women and the butler bowed and withdrew from the room.

Sven let out a deep sigh and sat down on the enormous bed. Nébula leapt from his arms and began drifting from one side of the room to the other, gazing around with her mouth slightly open in wonder.

“This is huge,” the creature remarked, bouncing onto a pile of cushions to test their softness. “I think I could get used to this.”

Sven laughed softly. He felt relieved to have his beloved companion with him; her presence made the change feel less overwhelming.

He picked up the attire the butler had left and examined it closely. It was a deep black, adorned with gold and blue embroidery—the colors of the Solar royalty. The fabric was structured and elegant, with finely worked floral and solar motifs. It resembled the garments Eidan often wore, though this one bore more restrained ornamentation.

He removed the clothes he had been wearing—a white silk shirt, dark trousers, and a deep blue cloak—and put on the new attire.

When he finished, he looked at himself in the large mirror before the wardrobe. His Delphenian features stood out starkly beneath those colors. He no longer wore the tones of his former kingdom; now, these would mark him as part of the solar royalty.

He could not tell whether that made him feel honored… or a little further from himself.

After feeding Nébula, the butler returned to escort him to the royal dining hall.

The chamber was bathed in a warm glow cast by enormous crystal chandeliers. The gold moldings reflected soft glimmers along the length of the table, where a feast had already been arranged: roasted lamb—the national dish—freshly baked bread, and berries just harvested, all impeccably presented upon golden tableware.

Sven advanced beside the butler to his place, careful not to reveal the faint tension running through his shoulders. A few steps away, Eidan turned as he saw him approach. His green eyes lit up at once, and he stifled a breath at the sight of him, dressed with such refinement.

“I didn’t say it before, but—officially—welcome,” he said with a smile, stepping forward to pull out his chair and help him sit.

“Thank you,” Sven replied with a small, sincere smile.

At the head of the table sat the Queen Mother, Catherine of Diodain. She was a beautiful woman of elegant bearing, adorned with solar jewels that caught the light like fragments of dawn. Her blonde hair, touched faintly with strands of silver, was carefully arranged.

“At last, the young man of Delphen joins our house,” she said with a gracious smile, raising her glass. “Welcome to the palace, Sven. I hope you will soon come to think of it as your home.”

“It is an honor, Your Majesty,” he replied, bowing his head respectfully.

The queen studied him—not as one inspects an object, but as someone carefully weighing the gravity of a future.

Diodain has awaited this day for a long time,” she continued. “The union of our histories will bring light and stability. I am certain you will be very happy here.”

Sven accepted the glass offered to him, holding it delicately, as if he feared spilling something invisible.

“Y-yes… thank you, Your Majesty.”

Eidan noticed the slight hesitation, though he said nothing.

“What a beautiful man you have become, dear Sven,” the queen added with a smile. “I have known you since you were born, but I have not seen you up close in recent years.”

“He has come often to visit me, Mother,” Eidan interjected, cutting a piece of meat. “If you didn’t notice, it’s because you spent too much time away from the palace.”

“Oh, that is true—but up close, he is almost ethereal, don’t you think?” she laughed gracefully. “Do you remember when you were a child and asked me if he was an angel?”

“Mother!” Eidan brought a hand to his face, embarrassed.

“I am very flattered, Your Highness,” Sven replied shyly.

“I do not exaggerate,” the queen continued. “It was tradition that whenever an heir was born in Delphen, the royalty of Diodain would attend to pay their respects. The day your parents presented you to the world, my Eidan was barely eight years old. It was a beautiful spectacle. Your parents were striking in their features—but you were like a radiant sylph.”

Sven remembered it as well, though only as a blurred vision: an aristocratic couple dressed in royal garments smiling at him, and a blond boy, slightly older than he was, who could not stop staring at him with vivid green eyes.

“Mother…” Eidan said, more seriously now. “Do not speak of Sven’s origin aloud. The servants might hear you.”

“Quite right, quite right,” she nodded.

Sven lowered his gaze. It pained him to have to hide such precious memories just to preserve his identity.

Dinner went on with polite conversation and measured laughter. They spoke of the preparations, of the guests who would arrive from other kingdoms, of celebrations that would last for days. Each word seemed to place another stone upon the path Sven was destined to walk.

“Then let us toast,” the queen said at last. “Before long, the entire kingdom will be celebrating with you. Eidan has spoken of little else since the wedding was announced.”

The king flushed faintly, averting his gaze.

Sven glanced at him from the corner of his eye. There was something deeply genuine about him—in the way he listened, in how he seemed to hold himself back from taking his hand in public, in that quiet pride that did not seek to impose itself.

When the dinner came to an end, Eidan rose first.

“Come with me for a moment,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

Sven hesitated for only an instant, then nodded.

“Alright.”

They took their leave of the queen with a bow. As they walked away from the dining hall, she watched them in silence, a satisfied expression on her face.

She did not see the shadow that briefly crossed the Delphenian youth’s features. Nor could she hear the distant echo of a kingdom that still called to him.