Sebastian sat back on his throne, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest while the council's voices filled the hall — bickering, arguing, repeating the same things he'd heard a hundred times before. He was tired of it all.
His eyes wandered to the tall windows, where pale moonlight spilled across the marble floor. Four years had passed since he last saw her — the girl with silver in her hair and eyes that caught the light like morning sun.
A faint smile touched his lips. It must be time.
"She turns eighteen in two days," he murmured to himself.
Then, with a low voice that silenced the room, Sebastian spoke. "Albert, Robert — and the rest of you," he commanded, his tone smooth but firm. "Prepare gifts for Claire. They are to be delivered immediately. And write a letter — two days from now, a grand ball will take place here in Mistlake."
He leaned back, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Invite every pureblood family, every noble of high standing. Make sure Claire receives the gowns and jewelry I've chosen for her. She is to wear those on the night of the ball."
No one dared to question him. The order was final.
---
By dawn, the carriages were loaded — velvet boxes filled with jewels, silk gowns, and an envelope sealed with the royal crest.
When the wheels of the carriages stopped at the Flores estate, the sound echoed across the courtyard. Claire, drawn by curiosity, came to the grand hall with her sisters at her side. Their mother, Celina, appeared moments later, elegant yet cautious.
The councilmen stepped forward. Albert bowed deeply and extended the envelope.
"Milady," he said, "these gifts come from His Majesty, King Sebastian of Mistlake. He requests your presence — and your daughters' — at a grand ball in two nights' time. The celebration is to honor Princess Claire's eighteenth birthday."
Celina's eyes widened slightly. "My daughter's… birthday?" she echoed.
Albert nodded. "The King has also arranged introductions for your other daughters — suitors of noble birth, from families most would never dream of aligning with. The King calls it a token of goodwill."
Claire's sisters gasped, delight lighting their faces. To be chosen by noble families of Mistlake was beyond fortune — it was fate. Their laughter filled the hall, bright and eager.
But Claire stood still. Her smile came slowly, uncertain.
Why would the King of Mistlake celebrate my birthday? she wondered. Why me?
Her fingers brushed the edge of the sealed envelope, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she felt warmth — faint, pulsing, almost alive — as though something within it was waiting.
Outside, thunder rolled in the distance, though the sky was clear.
And somewhere, far away in his cold castle, King Sebastian smiled — his gaze fixed on the horizon, where he knew the girl would soon arrive.