The riders crossed the park that separated them from the palace. They followed the vast rectangular water feature in which sculptures of sea monsters served as a backdrop for intermittent water jets. A network of hedges outlined geometric shapes around the basin, embracing groves and flower beds in its arabesques. These gardens were merely a showcase to impress the population and distinguished guests. Jasper, however, preferred those hidden behind the palace. They were lusher, more intimate, and wilder. Each stroll there could be different from the previous one, just by desiring it.

The royal palace, however, did not need meticulously arranged gardens to inspire respect. Built entirely of white stones, it seemed to have been constructed with immaculate sugar cubes. Four long wings joined to form an irregular cross. As they approached the center, the buildings rose, gaining floors and towers. Their intersection constituted the pinnacle of the structure, crowned with an imposing onion dome whose wide blue and gold bands spiraled to its top. The towers attached to the main building displayed roofs of various shapes, from domes to spires, all adorned with different shades of blue highlighted with gold that sparkled in the sun. Pillars, arches, and overhangs adorned the large windows that punctuated the facades.

They approached the stables to leave their mounts and noticed that the stable hands were already busy. Gathered at the entrance, they admired three horses with silky and shiny coats like Jasper had never seen before. Their legs were slender and powerful, their large expressive black eyes scrutinizing the humans around them. Mouth agape, the prince took a step toward them.

"Your Highness, you're going to be late."

The gravelly voice of Sandon snapped him back to attention. He tore himself away from his fascination and left his bodyguards to handle the horses. Usually, Jasper took care of his thoroughbred himself, yet today, he couldn't afford to be late for the Council of Ministers. He promised himself to return to the stables as soon as he was free.

His riding boots echoed on the steps of the grand staircase leading to the entrance. He hurried through the hall, his tall silhouette reflected on marble slabs shining like mirrors. He entrusted his cap and bear fur pelisse to a servant who seemed to appear out of nowhere upon his arrival.

The inside of the palace was no less grandiose than the outside. The whiteness of the walls was broken here by columns of violet porphyry, golden moldings, and painted friezes that ran from rooms to galleries and from galleries to vestibules. Prince Jasper climbed the monumental staircase leading to the Council chamber, his footsteps muffled by a thick purple carpet. He carefully dusted off his riding breeches. He didn't like the idea of ​​presenting himself to the Council in riding attire, but he liked even less the thought of being late.

Jasper stopped dead in his tracks when shouts echoed behind the double doors. Had the Council started early? And why the shouting? Was the agenda so contentious? He frowned and absently smoothed his braided jacket. Then he reached for the handle.

"Fetch my son!" ordered the king's deep voice.

The door swung open, revealing a flustered guard. Surprise at finding herself face to face with the object of his search and then relief crossed his face.

"Your Highness! Come quickly, you are needed!"

In the Council chamber stood Lapis II, the king of the Kingdom of Dawn. Tall and upright, his blonde beard abundantly streaked with gray, he nodded as his son entered. He was evidently not surprised at how quickly his order had been obeyed. Efficiency was what he expected in all circumstances.

"Your Majesty, forgive me for not having had time to change," Jasper said, bowing, one hand on his chest. "You summoned me?"

The First Counselor was also present. She seemed less composed than usual. A few brown strands escaped from the usually strict braids wound like a diadem around her head. Her chest heaved, as if to catch her breath. Had she run to come? The image was so improbable that Jasper's brain gave up trying to conjure it.

A man stood a few steps from the king. Hands clasped in front of him, he waited respectfully. Jasper had never seen him before. He wore a dusty travel cloak. Baggy pants tucked into pointed boots, and an elegant embroidered tunic that descended to mid-thigh testified to a high rank. This messenger was probably primarily a diplomat. And judging by his clothes, he was undoubtedly a foreigner.

The king handed his son a letter with a broken seal.

"The Queen of the Kingdom of Dusk sends us a peace proposal," he explained.

A peace proposal? These unexpected words resonated for a moment in the room before making sense.

Jasper's eyes widened, and he stared at his father in amazement.

"Peace? But on what conditions?"

"Read."

His father cast a meaningful glance at the message he was handing him. With trembling fingers, Jasper took the letter. It was written in perfect dawnian. With his heart pounding in his chest, he read.

Tired of seeing its resources drained by sterile conflicts, the Kingdom of Dusk proposed to finally put an end to it. The queen specified that with a little goodwill on both sides, it would be possible to agree on the exploitation of the fiercely contested territory at the border. She concluded by stating that the best way to seal an alliance was to make each other's interests align, and what better way than a marriage to achieve that? If not two. It happened that each of the two kingdoms had a son and a daughter of marriageable age. She suggested that celebrating a double marriage in grand style would be a wonderful way to end this war that had lasted too long.

A marriage to end the war.

His marriage.

Jasper slowly folded the letter and looked at his father.

"What do you think?" the king asked.

The idea was sudden, perhaps even a bit frightening. However, after spending the morning among the common people who constantly reminded him of how much the war weighed on their daily lives, such an outcome seemed ideal.

"Sire, I would be greatly honored if my marriage could be the cement of a new era of peace," he finally replied.

His father nodded with satisfaction.

"Our messenger brought a miniature of the heirs of Dusk," he said, gesturing to the stranger.

The man stepped forward and respectfully handed him a small portrait that fit in the palm of his hand. Jasper took it with curiosity. Inside a thick wooden frame, a young man and a young woman looked at him with their large black eyes. They resembled each other in a disturbing way. Both had a tan complexion, the same slender figure, and long black hair. The princess wore her hair freely flowing over her shoulders, while her brother tied his in a long, thin braid. They wore layers of brightly colored and richly embroidered clothes. The princess seemed gentle and playful, and Jasper found himself smiling at her. He was sure he could come to love her.

"Will you accept this proposal, Father?" he asked anxiously.

"We will discuss it with our ministers, but know that this idea appeals to me greatly. This war drags on, and if we do not show goodwill, it will be the legacy we leave to future generations. I do not want to go down in history as the monarch who did not have the courage to end this madness when he had the chance."

"The clergy of the Mighty Golden Dragon may not appreciate this idea as much," Jasper remarked.

"I am well aware. We will summon the Grand Priest to participate in the Council."

"Have Mother and Beryl been informed?"

The king shook his head.

"We have not had time for that yet. I will go speak to the queen later. As for you, I would like you to inform your sister."

Jasper bowed respectfully.

"We will postpone today's Council, to gather the clergy representatives and notables. You may leave, my son."

Jasper clicked his heels militarily.

"One more thing," the king continued. "Regarding your sister... be careful when announcing the news to her. She is so fragile ; we must avoid causing her undue worry."

"Of course, Father, you can trust me."

Jasper turned on his heel to head for the door. Halfway there, he stopped abruptly and turned to the duskan messenger. He pointed to the portrait he had forgotten he had in his hand.

"May I keep this?" he asked.

"Of course, Your Highness, it is for you."

Now certain not to commit a diplomatic blunder, Jasper left the room. He headed straight for the wing where his sister's apartments were. How would she react to this news? He was sure she called for peace at least as much as he did, but what would she think of being given in marriage to a foreigner? And furthermore, a foreigner whose people had done them so much harm. He absentmindedly removed his gloves to nibble on his thumb.

A valet interrupted the thread of his thoughts. Very dignified in his white and gold livery, he presented him with a silver tray on which rested two missives.

"Your Highness, in your absence, mail has arrived for you," he said solemnly.

"Very well, thank you. Can you place it on my desk? I have another matter to attend to first."

The valet bowed, and the prince continued on his way.

As his footsteps creaked the polished wooden floorboards of the corridors, Jasper carefully considered the words he was going to use. Beryl should not feel attacked or pressured. He would have preferred to inform her of the facts only if peace were truly signed; however, the arrival of a foreign messenger was of such importance that it would have been vain to try to keep the news secret.

He knocked on the large double white door of his sister's boudoir. The door opened to reveal a lady-in-waiting dressed in a soft green gown. She plunged into a deep curtsy upon recognizing him. The other young ladies surrounding his sister immediately stood up to imitate her.

Jasper greeted each one of them.

"Good morning, Miss Amber, I am pleased to see that this nasty cold has finally left you in peace. Miss Agate, how did the grape harvest go on your father's estate? Miss Jade, Her Majesty the queen told me that she was very interested in your flower arranging technique."

The ladies-in-waiting curtsied once again and withdrew. There was a gentle floral scent in the boudoir, an unmistakable sign of his sister's presence.

Beryl was seated in a comfortable armchair near a window, her embroidery work on her lap. She had turned her head toward her brother. At this movement, her long blonde, almost reddish, curls slid down her neck. She smiled gently at him.

"My brother," she said in a melodic voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit ?"

With a graceful gesture of her chubby arm, she indicated the chair in front of her that had been vacated by one of her attendants. Jasper sat down and crossed his long legs. His sister's blue eyes stopped for a moment on his riding breeches.

"Did you go for a walk this morning?" she asked, putting away her work on a table already laden with a basket filled with spools of thread.

"That's right, I left the castle at dawn. I wanted to breathe a little."

Jasper fell silent, unsure of how to transition back to the prepared speech.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me about your walk? Didn't you come to distract your poor sister with your story?"

Beryl put her hands on the golden thread embroideries of her long sky-blue sarafan and looked at her brother, expectantly. She was so innocent with her clear and naive eyes. The freckles sprinkled on her round cheeks gave her a childlike appearance. To think that he had to tell her that her well-ordered life might change completely... He took a deep breath and plunged in.

"To tell you the truth, my adventures this morning are of no importance compared to the news I learned upon my return."

"Oh."

A flash of curiosity quickly repressed crossed Beryl's face.

"A messenger from the Kingdom of Dusk arrived this morning," he began cautiously.

Beryl gripped the armrests and leaned toward him, her eyes shining. She knew as well as he did that it had been more than forty years since all communication had been cut off between the two capitals.

"They are offering us a peace proposal," he continued.

Beryl stared at him, breathless, her eyes rounded and her mouth disproportionately open.

"Peace? For real? What do they ask of us?"

Jasper fiddled with the buttons of his jacket, uneasy.

"The Duskians suggest that the best way to seal an alliance is through marriage."

His sister's expression turned mischievous.

"I see. Should I offer you my congratulations, my brother?"

Jasper squirmed in his chair.

"I am not the only one concerned. We have been enemies for so long that nothing less than two marriages will make our alliance strong and lasting."

Beryl stood up, one hand on her chest.

"Two marriages, you say?"

She took a deep breath and turned to the window. Worried, Jasper got up to join her.

"Beryl?" he asked, scrutinizing her profile in the backlight. "How do you feel?"

She briefly bit her lips, then turned to him.

"It had to happen sooner or later, didn't it?" she said, her face impassive again. "What do you know about our betrothed?"

"Not much," Jasper agreed. "I only have this portrait to share with you."

He took the miniature from his pocket and handed it to her. His sister examined it for a long time with a doubtful expression.

"I suppose he'll do as well as anyone else..." she finally said with a shrug.

She returned the object to him, and Jasper pocketed it back into his pocket with a hint of sadness.

"Keep in mind that nothing has been decided yet. Our father will convene an extraordinary Council to discuss it."

"Well, I hope they make the right choice. If I have to marry a man I haven't chosen, it might as well be for the best cause."

Gracefully, as if her future were not going to be decided in the coming days, Beryl sat back in her tapestry-covered armchair and resumed her embroidery. Jasper understood that it was time to withdraw and bid his sister farewell.