IRIS

The council members sit in their high-backed chairs, their expressions formal but expectant. Every eye in the room is on us. I tug lightly at the folds of my gown, though it feels absurd to care about that right now. How can I care about silk and embroidery when Kelvin is… when everything has changed in the last twenty-four hours?

“Prince Darian, Lady Iris,” the council elder begins, voice low but clear, echoing in the vaulted room. “First, allow us to extend our deepest condolences for the loss of your brother, Prince Kelvin.”

I flinch slightly at the words, a pang of grief twisting in my chest. I swallow,...