The morning light slipped into my room slowly—like it was asking permission. It fell across the floor in pale gold sheets, warming the edges of the carpet, brushing against the side of my bed. I blinked up at the ceiling and watched the way the light moved, slow and steady, as if time itself had softened.
I sat up slowly, the weight of sleep still clinging to my shoulders like a too-large coat. For a moment, I expected to see someone by the door—Caelum, or Lloyd, or maybe even Gabel. But no one was there. Just quiet. And sunlight.
I didn't feel tired. Not exactly. But there was a kind of stillness in me that hadn't been there before. Like the leftover hush of something meaningful. Like the silence after a story is told, but before anyone speaks.
I remembered the night clearly. The garden. Lloyd's voice. The way the moon watched over us. The memory of silver arms and a voice in the dark that said, "You are not alone." A part of me didn't know what to do with that. But another part… held onto it. Quietly.
After washing my face, I sat at my desk and pulled one of the books Caelum had left for me—the one about the first Emperor and the Sun God. I turned the pages slowly, rereading sections I already knew by heart.
The first Emperor, the boy who offered mud pies to a god disguised as a traveler. The god who saw kindness where the world saw shame. The kingdom built not from power, but from a wish. I wondered if the Sun God had ever returned. If he watched over the Empire still. If he watched me.
Breakfast came, as it always did. I made my way to the dining room the same way I had yesterday, like nothing strange had happened. Like I hadn't wandered out into the moonlight. Like I hadn't cried into a wolf's shoulder under a tree that still remembered spring.
The table was already set when I arrived. Caelum was already at the table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. He greeted me with a smile—warm, casual, like nothing had happened the day before. Like I hadn't cried in his arms, clung to his shirt, whispered secrets into his chest. And I was grateful for that.
I slid into my seat and began eating slowly, carefully, like always. His smile was quiet but bright. Like sunlight on snow. He asked how I slept, and I answered simply. "Fine." He didn't press.
We ate together without rush. The food was light—soft bread, steamed eggs, a bit of fruit. Caelum didn't ask about last night. But as we finished the meal, he set his cup down and glanced sideways at me.
"Would you like to meet them today?"
He didn't say who. But I knew. The Emperor. The Empress. The rulers at the center of the Empire's golden sun. My uncle and aunt. Or, by blood, my eldest half-brother and his wife. I didn't answer with words at first. I just nodded. Slow. Careful. Certain.
Lillian, Tilly, and Gabel came to help me prepare. They didn't treat it like a chore. They didn't rush or fret. Everything they did was gentle. Considerate. They helped me out of my regular clothes and into a bath. The water was warm with a faint lavender scent. Lillian hummed while gently washing my arms. Tilly focused on brushing my nails and combing my hair, while Gabel dried my feet and kept the towels warm. I didn't ask them to. But they did it anyway.
Once I was clean and dry, they led me to the closet and began dressing me. My tunic was a rich crimson—deep and regal, with gold trim on the hem and collar. It had a stand collar and delicate gold buttons, all polished to shine under light. The fabric was soft, but strong. Not heavy. Not stiff. Just right.
Over it, they draped a jacket like a mantle—royal purple with embroidery like curling sun rays at the shoulders and sleeves. It didn't weigh much, but I felt the history in it. The meaning. Gabel helped slip on my boots. They were black and polished until they caught the candlelight, but soft inside. Comfortable. They weren't like the stiff shoes the nobles wore in stories. They were made for walking, not just for standing still.
And pinned to the front of my tunic, just above my heart, was a sun brooch—golden, small, but unmistakable. The symbol of the imperial line. When I looked at myself in the tall mirror… I barely recognized the boy staring back. But I didn't hate him.
While Tilly braided my hair, I watched her hands move. She worked carefully, gently pulling the strands to one side, weaving them together into a perfect side braid that draped over my left shoulder. Each section was smooth. Balanced. The braid was tied at the end with a thin golden ribbon.
"Usually," Lillian said softly as she watched, "royal boys wear eyeliner or makeup for formal events. Especially for court functions."
I tilted my head.
She smiled. "It's a tradition in some parts of the Empire. Even high heels or side-skirts in other kingdoms. It depends on the house—and the person. The princes in Aravelle wear gold eyepaint with every formal dinner. In Nareth, some wear floor-length cloaks just to go to court."
"Do I have to?" I asked.
"No," she said at once. "Only if you want to. All that matters is that you feel comfortable. If you want eyeliner or face jewels for formal events, you can ask. You don't have to follow rules that don't feel like yours."
I looked back at the mirror. "I like this," I said quietly.
The three of them smiled.
When I stepped into the hallway, Caelum was already waiting. And he was dressed almost the same. His tunic was crimson too, with gold buttons and trim. His jacket was longer than mine, lined with dark fur, and his boots had silver buckles. But our brooches were the same. We looked… connected. Like we belonged to the same story.
He reached for me and lifted me easily into his arms, smiling against my temple. "You look perfect," he said. My cheeks went warm. But I didn't look away.
Outside, the palace grounds were already glowing with sunlight. The horses were ready—sleek, calm creatures with polished saddles. Caelum placed me gently in the saddle first, then mounted behind me, holding the reins with one hand and me steady with the other.
We didn't speak much as we rode. The air was too soft. The wind too gentle. I leaned back against him, letting the quiet fill my ears.
The Sun Palace rose in the distance, gilded towers shining like fire. The walls were high, but graceful. The rooftops curved like petals. The central dome gleamed with inlaid gold and stained glass. It didn't look like a fortress. It looked like a promise. Like something blessed.
We rode through the lower gates, then up a long, winding path lined with trimmed trees and tall banners. The sunlight reflected off the gold plating like starlight made solid. When we reached the final stair, Caelum dismounted first. He helped me down, one arm steady around my waist. I didn't stumble. But I held his hand.
He led me slowly toward the entrance, where two tall knights stood with spears crossed over the door. When they saw Caelum, they uncrossed their weapons and opened the doors wide. No words. Just silent bows. And behind the doors—Light. Gold. White. Warmth. The Sun Palace opened like the dawn. And we stepped inside. Together.