In the middle of an empty dining room with dark marble floors stretching from one end to the other and ceilings that reach high with lit chandeliers—chaises, sofas, and comfortable chairs of all shapes and sizes nestle within the center of the room for the guests of Dalis's birthday celebration.

It's not a large celebration, mainly people I recognize while the few are standing in the corners, drinking from chalices as they look on into the summer night beyond and the bright stars freckling the sky. The windows are open to let in that comfortable breeze and it mixes so well with the soft tunes of a violin—played by a man with an excellent mustache and a very tight-fitting doublet that cuts into his neck. Yet, that doesn't halt the beauty in the tune.

Hallie finally releases my arm after her grip had been digging into my skin the entire way here—melting through the fabric of my tunic and all the way to the bone, seemingly. She stomps away, towards the table against the wall decorated in Dalis's favorite color, gold. Along the table are rows and rows of desserts and chalices with different drinks. If Silas was part of constructing this party, then I know most of it is alcohol—he promised a good time, even if we wouldn't be drinking, we'd be laughing at someone.

I wave at Celestine across the room, who sits in one of the cushioned chairs with a chalice in her hand. She wears a fine, white partlet over her ruby gown—of course, my sister couldn't dress comfortably for a small celebration like this. Just as the thought runs through my head, Hallie whispers something in her ear and my sister smiles, mouthing the words 'thank you' towards the princess.

Celestine's eyes dart across the room, not to me or any of the other guests that are nameless company, but to Silas, already going through the chalices and sniffing the contents. He hardly notices us as we place Dalis's gift onto the gold liner, next to the table of food and drinks, and watch as he picks up each one to examine what might be on the inside. It's a guessing game, one he could have avoided if he asked for specific wines or ales.

He takes a double take towards us, grinning wide once he realizes we're standing there. "There you two are! I was wondering what was taking you so long," he begins. Before we can say anything in return, he shoves two chalices into our hands and directs his attention towards the many versions of seating in the room. "Sit wherever you like."

The large dining area in this tower has been transformed into the perfect celebration room. The floor is clear for dancing; they have removed the table, and the wallpaper of roses and tulips glistens underneath the glow of torches. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I am free and have the opportunity to do that, and smile when Renit interlocks his arm with mine.

"I spot a very nice chaise that will fit two," he whispers in my ear.

"No touching, Hallie might kick you out," I mutter as we pass her moving a tray of cupcakes from one end of the table to another. She glances at us over her shoulder but I quickly avert my gaze back towards the large sitting area.

This is a celebration fit for a prince or a princess, not for someone of the kitchen staff. Dalis works tirelessly every day to provide meals for those inside this castle, three meals a day, and alone in the kitchen with Mills in the mornings. She's exhausted every night but when I asked her why she would keep a horrible job, she said watching people's faces light up when they taste their food is enough for her to keep going.

And, if the princes don't have meals, then they can't eat. She didn't fail to mention that the king could scrounge up his own scraps if he wanted to. If he never walked into the kitchen again, Dalis would be more than happy.

Renit slides onto the chaise, angling for me to sit down next to him. Once I'm settled, I take a sip from the chalice and cringe; I ended up with one of the most bitter wines on the table—considering Renit's is much sweeter.

"When is she going to be arriving?" I ask Celestine, my sister scooting closer.

"Any moment now." She waves her hand in the door's direction we walked through. "She's nervous so don't...stare at her too much."

Someone behind the chaise snorts, followed by a deep slurp from their chalice. I recognize the voice but can't seem to place it. Before I can figure it out, he speaks. "This is her party, how are we not going to stare at her?"

Darius.

I swallow down my scowl and focus on my thumbnail instead of his face as he comes around the chaise and takes a seat in an armchair next to us. A chair that was likely dragged to room after room until arriving here and arranged among the blankets on the floor and the extra pillows for those that can't find a seat.

The last time I saw Darius, he was fleeing the battle scene in the courtyard. On a limp from a broken leg, likely, but as he takes a seat with no trouble—it's clear he's all better. I had heard nothing from him and hadn't seen him around the castle but that was because he headed back to his family's estate in Mailan for a while to clear his head. Either that or he was too butthurt about what happened and feared the blame would come to him, one way or the other.

Celestine rolls her eyes. "Just be courteous. Don't make a big deal about this, Silas was the one that planned it."

Glancing over at me, Darius winks. With a finger pointing out from his grip on the chalice, he gestures between the two of us. "Either this is a new version of your hate for each other or you've bonded." His voice is already slurred and rasped, despite most of the guests still arriving every few minutes through the stone archway. All come bearing gifts or extra treats for guests to snack on.

There's nothing Dalis loves more than a sweet dessert.

I pat Renit's knee, a little too high for his sanity. "We still hate each other," I joke.

"Remind me why you were late, again?" Darius asks. He smirks at us over the rim of his chalice at the same time Renit squeezes my side, a reminder that I'll pay for my words later.

All hate Darius might have had for me is officially gone, either that or the alcohol is blocking off his sense to care. But he smiles at me like we're old friends, acknowledges Renit like they didn't pummel each other in the kitchens for a collar of bruises, and even speaks to Celestine like he sees her as a witch rather than the body of one.

It doesn't take long for Silas to plump down in a chair, carrying a chalice full of whatever he finally picked out and an entire plate full of desserts. When Renit tries to reach over and take one, his brother scoots the plate away and furrows his brows. "There's plenty up there, go get some," Silas orders.

And that is final.

Renit rolls his eyes. "Typical," he mutters.

The crown prince wolfs down all his desserts and just in time for Hallie to take a seat with her own wine and drape an arm across the back of the sofa, scratching at her forehead. Exhaustion lines her features; Silas wasn't the only one planning this party, and she still is, considering she's spent most of her time rearranging the dessert table.

"Eat some desserts," Silas tells her around a mouthful of cake. Bits shoot out from his mouth and land back on the plate.

She scowls at him, blinking as if she's waiting for more to come out his nose, and finally retorts with, "My body does not tolerate what you—"

"Don't you dare start with me." Silas shakes his head, already going in for a chocolate iced cookie sitting in the corner of his plate. There's so much on the steel surface that I didn't spot it until he yanked the soft and delectable treat from the fray.

To calm her anger and keep herself from snapping at the crown prince, she takes one large gulp of wine and sets the dark chalice on the low table in front of her. When I think they might be pissed at each other already, the corner of her mouth turns up in a smile, Silas winking at her in confidence to prove they don't hate each other just yet.

Soft heels click across the floor and Dalis appears, clutching onto her handbag as if her life depends on it. Her eyes are wide with fear, the gold eyeshadow dusted across her lids bringing out the dazzling sapphire of her innocent eyes. But there is a fire underneath there, hidden behind the wave of water waiting to strike.

Unlike Celestine, who dressed for a ball meant for the entire kingdom, Dalis wears a simple silver gown that could pass as something to wear for a quick stroll through Mailan. Yet, she doesn't disappoint in anything. Dalis would have been perfect either way, dressed up or not. Outside of the kitchens, she's a different version of herself—her shoulders are relaxed, she smiles naturally, she's not constantly snapping at Mills for ordering her to do something, over and over again when she's too busy doing another.

"Silas, this is too much," she says by way of greeting.

Before the words have left her glossed lips, the crown prince is already shaking his head. "There are chairs in the middle of an empty dining room. How much less attention could I have given this?" He arches a brow at her, smacking his jaw around a piece of caramel. "I might as well have asked a child to build us some forts out of blankets and chairs. Even that would have been fancier than this."

"Don't fight it," Hallie mutters under her breath. "He's been snippy all day."

Yet, the crown prince snorts as he hears every word. Dalis comes around the corner of the sofa, taking a seat next to Hallie, who hands her the extra chalice of wine she brought over. Only the princess would recognize that the star of this celebration wouldn't go eat the desserts or drink the wine they laid out for her. 

No one would expect the crown prince of Esaria to throw a birthday celebration for a member of the kitchen staff. But Silas is close with everyone, including Dalis, who has offered her sword in training over the years.

I look around at our group and smile to myself.

Celestine laughing at Silas's jokes; Hallie rolling her eyes when Darius over-exaggerates during one of his stories; Renit calling out his brother for a quick romance over fifty years ago. All of this—this is what I've been looking for. This small core of people I could never live without. 

Hours later, wine of a dark shade shoots through Darius's nose, landing in his lap and splattering onto the rug underneath his chair. The rest of the group sitting around is either laughing uncontrollably at Silas's joke or grimacing as Darius wipes up the wine with his shirt sleeve, all the while chuckling with a slight rise and fall of his shoulders.

My stomach aches, my head is pounding, and I can barely see through the tears. It's been hours of us sitting here, telling stories one after the other, and we've finally reached the point for Silas to share one of his legendary experiences. This time, it was something he did in Flitsea that got him kicked out of one of the most popular taverns in the city—and cleaning duty for the docks. No one had thought he was the prince and due to some faulty calculations, it was one of the funniest stories I've ever heard.

I sit with my legs pressed against my chest, arms wrapped around as Renit's fingers slide up and down my back in a comforting touch. He's had his fair share of wine but not nearly as much as his brother or the rest of the group so his laughter is much less intimidating than someone like Hallie or Dalis.

They've both giggled the entire time, chalice after chalice until they were toppling over each other and wine was spilling over the rims—sticking to the smooth skin of their hands.

Most of the desserts are gone, as is the wine, and any ale brought in at the last minute. The guests sucked them down and most have either left or moved to sit in the area, either on the floor near the couches or smashed in next to another as we've run out of seating.

The light of the party, Dalis, sits slumped on one of the plush sofas, her long legs crossed over each other and one hand draped over her stomach. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with exhaustion and the sting of the wine but she still has the strength to smile as Silas ventures into another story.

His hands are flailing about wildly as he speaks. I glance over at Celestine to find her smiling at him sweetly, listening to each word as if that is her reason for existence.

Leaning back, I whisper in Renit's ear, "Are you ready to go?"

He's as tired as everyone else, a silver sheen of exhaustion casts over his eyes. The prince nods and offers me a smile of relief. It's the middle of the night and the rest of the castle has to be sleeping by now, the servants have stopped coming through to clean up the messes and no guards pass by the open archway leading into the large dining room.

As I stand, offering my hand down to Renit, someone passes by. It's not one guard, but two, and they're carrying someone between them. Rather dragging them as whoever they have no longer has the strength to stand. I furrow my brows, studying the blood-stained and dirt-caked back of the head of the person being dragged through the hall.

"What is it?" Renit asks.

I'm already leaving him behind, my heart racing as I move to the open archway and run down the hall towards a piece of fabric that was left behind. The man was not fighting but with the last bit of strength he had left; he attempted to shove off one of the guards. That had been enough to drop this.

The fabric is caked with blood and stiff in my hands but there's nothing mistaken about the gold fabric, the sunflowers over the surface with white beads in the center. My stomach nearly leaps into my throat, vomit pooling in my cheeks, as Renit comes to stand beside me. He studies the cloth but doesn't get the same recognition I do.

"Akeno," I whisper.