Iliya watched families flock to the Temple in the newfound sunlight, music drifting up into her window. Children dashed through the streets as dancers warmed up, their joy palpable.

A foreign feeling ached in Iliya's chest, seeing how close her people were to one another. Laughing, smiling, playing games. Eating the delicious foods that only surfaced for the festival.

Her mouth watered just thinking of it.

For the first time in years, Iliya realized how lonely she felt as she stood on her balcony.

Siofra had mentioned coming to see her so she wouldn't be alone today. No doubt, she was running errands for the royals

Iliya knew the chances were good that those words would be nothing more than that.

Words.

A phrase to offer some sliver of comfort.

The ache in her heart flooded and morphed into something more. Something that felt like longing.

To be someone else, if only for the day. A person with less responsibility. Without a silent, lethal weight on their shoulders.

Ambiguous.

Free.

Iliya looked at herself in the mirror. Her mahogany hair had grown so long, it hovered at her hips, and her golden skin didn't glow as she spent less time training in the sun.

Hidden.

In what world could she be hidden?

Almost the spitting image of her mother, the queen, save for the swirling black ink dancing up her wrist and forearm, lost beneath a glamor of enchantments. Secrets kept by the obsidian jewelry fixed to every finger and chained together by thin silver bands around Iliya's wrist.

Iliya was also shorter, leaner, and her cheekbones were higher and sharper.

As long as she looked identical to her mother, she would never be normal.

Taking fistfuls of her hair, she began weaving them together, working tirelessly to suspend the braid all the way down her spine.

Iliya shrugged off her royal garments, pulling on a gorgeous lace blouse meant for Temple and some white, knee length tights.

She was just an ordinary girl.

If no one looked at her, if no one saw the rings or her lime green eyes with accents of honey, straight from Destry herself.

A dark pit grew in her stomach, gaping and expanding into a terrifying abyss of anxiety and doubt.

She was crazy.

Absolutely mental.

Iliya squinted at the mirror, blurring the reflection enough to wonder if she too might forget. She didn't want to recognize herself either.

"I'll be a village girl today," Iliya whispered. "Nothing more than that."

She swallowed, pushing aside the raging waves of panic and throwing her body into motion, first out of her bedroom suite then down the hundreds of stairs until she was stumbling over the stone walkway.

Determined as she was, she only glimpsed her cousin Rhydian striding closer to the woman he wished to court, if only she cared to notice.

Then a brief sighting of her mother organizing preparations for the Solstice Ball.

They too would become blurs today.

Distant memories.

The memories of someone else.

With each step, Iliya felt that dull, painful ache fade away.

~ 🔮 ~

Sorein was now convinced the definition of later was something everyone needed to agree upon.

For all he knew, Noah Whitecross had no intention of gracing them with his presence until tomorrow, yet here he was lounging in the stairwell of Sorein's old apartment with a sack at his feet and some tonic in his hand.

The blond haired man took a lazy sip of his drink before noticing their arrival, eyes brightening at the sight of them. He quickly stood and lost his balance in one fluid motion.

"You should've slept it off," Jeremy said, laughing at the intoxicated man. "You're going to frighten the children."

Noah's brow rose. "As if being armed to the teeth wasn't accomplishing that already. Look at you. Are you intending to pray or will there be an onslaught we don't know about?"

"You're a nightmare, both of you," Sorein passed them to unlock the door, and the jeering continued behind him as he threw his bag on the floor and coasted towards the fridge.

Empty, as expected.

Though he might've left behind some oatmeal and crackers, Sorein questioned their integrity. He couldn't anticipate more when he'd left two years ago.

Everything had either been thrown into his luggage or the trash, leaving no trace of his presence behind. For a good while, he'd sooner gut fish in the harbor than step foot in the city again.

Sorein considered heading back to Hollow Point before the two weeks amounted to nothing more than chaos.

He missed the festivities though, and he ached for an ounce of normalcy, wishing for nothing more than to spend his time in the Temples before promptly returning home.

No matter what might be at stake.

Blond hair sidestepped through his peripheral vision, heading to the bedroom.

"Oh no you don't," Jeremy called out behind him, glaring pointedly at Noah. "You're taking the couch. I'm not forfeiting the bed when you'll end up warming someone else's."

Sorein remembered there were only two bedrooms. That was all they needed two years ago.

Noah stayed in Nynoli with his family, despite frequent visits to disguise his unseemly habits.

Though Sorien was never the first to judge, he did have to wonder what it must be like for an immortal not bound to finding a mate. If acting as a diplomat for his parents suited him, then bedding multiple women might as well.

The notion turned something in Sorein's stomach, uncertain whether the effort in swaying interests or consorting with so many lies suited Noah.

Both, likely.

"You'll have at least one poor soul wrapped around your finger before the Solstice Ball," Sorein added, chuckling. "Surely you won't need the couch for long."

Noah rolled his eyes, scoffing. "I'll have you know, I'm taking Lady Gothalis to the ball."

Jeremy snorted. "How did you manage to ensnare Charlotte Gathalis?"

The temperature plummeted in the room, icing the space between the men. Too far.

Jeremy had gone too far.

Sorein watched carefully over his shoulder, sliding his gaze between the two.

"Excuse me?"

"Might it have something to do with her brother being next-in-line?"

Sorein exhaled through his nose, slowly mustering the energy to involve himself.

Noah's eyes had grown cold, the kind brown warmth now flat and distant. "Take care in what you're implying," he warned.

If the General had any form of common sense, Sorein thought it would be a good time to use it. Jeremy, to his misfortune, seemed to have misplaced it today.

Noah interrupted any retort. "Not everyone wants to be on a Throne."

Sorein saw his opportunity and took it.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," he snorted, taking a drink from the leftover water he'd bought at the station. "You can have mine if you're desperate."

The tension broke, the room lightening around them. He didn't want to know what lay in the darkness of Noah's eyes, but there was nothing resembling the man he'd grown up with.

Something still lingered in his irises, though he wasn't certain if the girl meant more to him or if another line was crossed.

Sorein debated if it was worth asking or if he even cared.

"The first Vigil is in an hour and I don't intend to miss the Ceremony," Sorein announced. "You ladies can sit here and bicker all night, but I'm leaving with or without you."

He meant it too.

He would stay in the Temple until the priestesses came. Right until dawn if they let him.

~ 🔮 ~

The crowds were overwhelming.

Iliya found herself jostled back and forth, shoved by performers and civilians alike. Lost.

In a dark world of her own creation, she wandered aimlessly through the screaming horde of children, their magic slashing through the street in whips of bright light.

Flamedancers spun the fire in their veins, masterfully manipulating beautiful illusions. They flipped and twirled in a wide formation for the flocks of people to step through.

Iliya's stomach tightened the more she realized this world was no less lonely than her balcony.

She walked faster, panicking. Her heart throbbed in her chest, the fear ebbing and flowing.

One breath.

Then another.

She pushed down on that intense, molten feeling.

Nothing mattered so long as she remained invisible.

Then her eyes landed on Siofra laughing with the royals from Tae'Rainne, their curved ears arching beautifully as if Karna had blessed them herself.

They held pastries from a tent nearby, smiling and laughing. Bonding.

Bile shot up Iliya's throat, acidic and fiery.

At that moment, their playful banter and friendly hugs seemed far out of reach. A dream that only surfaced when her eyes were closed.

That's when Iliya realized the truth.

Each promise was a carefully orchestrated lie designed to make her feel better. Siofra wasn't running errands or planning to hide away with her. Not that Iliya could blame her.

Nor her mother for attempting to meddle in her solitude.

But nothing could soothe the pain of seeing her friend with the people she could never be.

Before Iliya knew it, she was sprinting through the masses, heading straight for the Temple.

Far away from the memories.