The room fell into a sufocating silence. The second brother gripped his trembling
wrist, his reptilian eyes wide with a confusion that was rapidly turning into humiliated
rage. The other two brothers reached for the hilts of their ceremonial blades, their
instincts screaming that the small, silver-haired boy on the divan was a predator
disguised as prey.
"Enough."
The word didn't come from anyone in the room. It drifted in from the open balcony,
carried by a gust of sea wind that smelled of ozone and ancient depths.
Standing on the threshold of the balcony was the High Priest. He hadn't entered
through the door; he had simply appeared, his robes dry despite the mist clinging to
his shoulders. His sharp gaze swept over his sons, lingering for a moment on the one
still shaking from Jee-shahn's "flick."
"Father!" Jasmine squeaked, her hands flying to her pigtails. "We were just... getting
to know each other!"
"I can see that," the High Priest replied, his voice smooth and dangerous. He walked
toward the divan, his presence causing his sons to snap into a rigid, military salute.
He stopped directly in front of Jee-shahn. "My sons are undisciplined. They mistake
size for substance—a mistake our ancestors, the Draco, never made."
Jee-shahn, who had found another grape, didn't even look up. "Your sons have a lot
of energy," he noted lazily. "They should try a hobby. Like gardening. Or being quiet.
I'm partial to the being quiet part."
The brothers bristled, but a single raised hand from the High Priest silenced them.
The elder man leaned down, his eyes searching Jee-shahn's azure gaze for any sign
of fear. He found none—only a void of profound, sleepy indiference.
"Jee-shahn," the High Priest said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You have
entered my house and claimed the hand of my daughter. You have stood before the
shrine of Suiseiryu and remained unbowed. Tomorrow, at the Royal Meeting, the other
families—the Lords of the Trench and the Dukes of the Gilded Coast—will not be as
'polite' as my sons. They will demand proof of your lineage. They will demand to see
the 'Divine Fourth Crown' within you."
Jee-shahn finally sat up, the fur collar of his robes brushing his chin. He let out a
long, exhausted sigh. "Proof? Lineage? I told the running lady I was a traveler. I'm
here for the ocean breeze and the snacks. If your 'Lords' want a show, tell them to hire
a circus."
The High Priest smiled—a sharp, thin line. "In this empire, the circus and the court are
one and the same. Prepare yourself. If you truly wish to be the groom of the Aurex
bloodline, you will have to survive more than just a hungry hawk."
As the High Priest turned to lead his sons out, he paused at the door. "Jasmine, dress
him in the ceremonial blue. I will not have my future son-in-law appearing at the
meeting looking like he just crawled out of a tree."
The doors shut, leaving Jasmine and Jee-shahn alone once more. Jasmine collapsed
onto a stool, her face buried in her hands. "Ceremonial blue... the Lords of the
Trench... Jee-shahn, we're going to be executed. I just know it."
Jee-shahn flopped back onto the cushions. "As long as the 'Ceremonial Blue' isn't
itchy, I don't care. Now, where is that fruit platter? Being a 'Royal Groom' is
surprisingly exhausting.