Chapter 3 -Avianna-
\-Avianna-
Present Day...
If one more person tells me how graceful I am, I might throw myself off this balcony.
I smile, lifting my hand in the slow, measured wave I’ve practiced since childhood, the one that says beloved princess and not slightly unhinged young woman calculating escape routes. The crowd below erupts on cue, a living tide of color and sound surging through the streets of Caelthar.
Flags snap in the wind. Bells toll. Laughter carries up from the lower terraces where merchants shout over one another and children weave recklessly between them.
The city is alive in that overwhelming, beautiful way that almost makes you forget how fragile peace really is.
Almost.
If this marriage works, two kingdoms survive. If it doesn’t… we don’t.
My smile doesn’t falter.
Do they really believe a marriage fixes everything?
That if they dress me in silk and jewels and hand me over with a polite smile, two kingdoms will suddenly breathe as one, strong enough to withstand whatever waits beyond our borders?
Maybe they’re right, unity is the only way forward.
I just wish survival didn’t rest so fully on my shoulders.
The tether hums. Caylix, constant now, the connection as natural to me as breathing.
“You make it look effortless,” Caylix murmurs behind me.
I don’t turn. If I do, I’ll laugh, and that would ruin everything.
Effortless is an illusion, I think back at him. One I’ve obviously perfected.
“You’re not holding it up alone,” he says quietly. “You’re just the part they can see.”
My smile widens before I can stop it.
Caylix, that almost sounded comforting.
A flicker of amusement brushes through the tether.
“Someone has to remind you,” he adds, low enough that no one else can hear, “that a crown is heavier than it looks… and that you’re strong enough to wear it.”
I swallow. The noise of the crowd dulls for a second. Before I can linger on it, my father leans close.
“You are radiant, daughter,” he says softly at my shoulder.
I’m sweating, I think flatly.
Caylix’s quiet amusement slips through the tether before he adds, just for me, “Ever the picture-perfect princess.”
So, Caylix…how far do you think someone could run before you caught them? I’m asking for a friend.
A pause as he pretends to consider it.
“About two feet.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Quite sure of yourself I see. I’ll let my friend know.
I don’t need to look to know where he is. I feel him, close enough that if I stepped back, I’d hit him. The tether settles like a second heartbeat, holding me together. I haven’t closed it since that day in the village. Since then… he hears everything. And with Caylix, I’ve never wanted to hide. He never reacts when he hears something I didn’t mean to offer. Never pries. Never twists it into something else. He just holds it, my worry, my sarcasm, my doubts, as if they were his to carry too. Officially, he’s my personal guard. Unofficially…He’s the only person I never have to perform for. The world sees a weapon when it looks at him. A blade honed for violence. If they only knew that was just the surface.
They don’t see the man underneath, and the constant, deliberate choice not to break everything in his path. Caylix could tear the world apart. He simply chooses not to.
“Breathe, Avi,” he whispers.
I hadn’t realized I stopped.
“They see only perfection.”
I inhale slowly, steadying myself. From the raised balcony, the city spills outward in layers of black stone and crystal, carved into the mountainside like something ancient and unbreakable. Sunlight beams across the towers, catching on the banners lining the main road below. I see silver stags on navy fabric, which means the Veylan procession is almost here. Beside me, my father stands tall, every inch the King. Silver threads through his dark hair, his crown heavy with iron and moonstone. He watches the approaching procession with the kind of stillness that comes from seeing too many wars disguised as diplomacy.
A sharp rustle of fabric cuts through the moment. Charlotte. Late. Of course. She doesn’t enter quietly. Charlotte never does. She takes the room, or in this case, the entire balcony. Gold silk clings to her like it was made for attention, cut lower than necessary, shoulders bare, lips painted a deep, deliberate crimson. The crowd notices immediately. She smiles like she’s doing them a favor by even looking at them.
She’s impossible, I think.
“And deliberate,” Caylix murmurs, his attention shifting to her the way it would a drawn blade.
Charlotte glides to our father’s side, all innocence and charm, tilting her chin just enough to catch the light. She drinks in the attention like it belongs to her. Caylix’s hand shifts slightly at his side, not drawing his weapon… just reminding the world he could. Something tightens in my chest.
Something feels… off.
The thought slips through the tether. Caylix doesn’t respond this time. He doesn’t need to. I feel it instead, his agreement. A quiet, sharpened awareness settling beneath his calm. Good. I’m not imagining it.
“The Prince arrives,” Charlotte murmurs, eyes gleaming, “He’s said to be quite striking.”
Of course he is. Wouldn’t want to risk a political alliance over someone forgettable.
I keep my gaze forward. I’ve learned how to exist like this, untouchable on the outside, even when everything underneath is screaming. I step forward, resting my hands against the railing as the courtyard below fills with movement. Caylix moves in beside me, just enough to see the commotion below. I glance at him. His attention is already on the crowd, scanning.
And here I thought you were coming closer to make sure I didn’t jump.
His gaze doesn’t leave the courtyard.
“You’re not going to jump.”
I tilt my head slightly. You sound very sure.
“I am.”
I study him for a second, the way he’s completely absorbed in what’s below, like the rest of this doesn’t exist.
“You know,” I say lightly, “most people would at least pretend to be concerned.”
He smirks. “I’m not most people.”
“No,” I murmur, looking back out over the courtyard. “You’re really not.”
A moment passes.
And if I were going to jump?
This time, he does glance at me.
“I’d stop you.”
Yeah, I think. You’d miss me too much.
His eyes meet mine. One brow lifts, just slightly. For a second, he doesn’t look away.
Then he says, “It’s my job.”
Like that’s all it is. His attention shifts back to the courtyard, already moving on as the procession reaches the palace gates. Trumpets flare and the crowd surges. Soldiers split formation, and at the center, Prince Rhydon of Veylan.
Caylix goes still beside me. Not his usual stillness, but something else. His hand finds his sword. The tether pulls, sharp enough that I feel it.
Not fear.
Caylix doesn’t feel fear.
So whatever danger this is…is worse.