The next morning was blindingly bright and Alya woke with an enormous, unprincess-like yawn, stretching her arms high above her head, only to flinch and hiss as sunlight poured through the suddenly open blinds.
"Who the hell…?!" she yelped, throwing one arm across her eyes and scowling.
"Princess Alya, it's time," came a calm female voice from somewhere in the brightness.
Alya cracked one eye open. Four young women stood at the foot of her enormous bed, all dressed in identical plain white gowns that screamed "servant uniform."
She groaned dramatically and pushed herself upright, shooting them a half-hearted glare. "I was actually having the best sleep of my life and you just had to ruin it. What do you even want?"
The maid in the center smiled brightly. "To prepare you for the journey to the Supreme Domain, Your Highness." Then she moved forward and began smoothing the sheets around Alya with a happy face like she was the one getting married. "This is everything you've ever dreamed of and I've selected the most exquisite gown for you. I'm telling you, Princess Alya, the moment Lord Alistair lays eyes on you, he'll fall in love."
The maid looked overly excited and with how casual she spoke, Alya immediately pegged her as the original Alya's personal maid.
Alya frowned as the other three maids swept into the room carrying armfuls of white fabric. They laid five gowns across the foot of the bed in a neat row.
"You may choose whichever pleases you most, Princess," one of them said brightly.
Alya stared at the lineup, then back at the maids. "You want me to pick… among these? They all look identical."
"They are not identical at all," the personal maid corrected gently, stepping forward to point. "Each is crafted from the finest materials. This one has subtle floral threading along the cuffs, this one features a high collar with pearl inlay, this one…"
"White," Alya interrupted flatly. "They're all white. Same cut, same silhouette, same everything. Is white, like… a thing around here?"
The maids exchanged quick, puzzled glances.
"Princess Alya," one ventured, tilting her head with a dreamy little smile, "white is the sacred color of Star Haven. It represents our purity, our closeness to the heavens…"
Alya's frown deepened. "So every realm has its own color?"
"Only the upper realms traditionally do," the personal maid explained. "When we still held that rank, Lord Silas chose white to symbolize our virtue. Golden Peak is… well, gold. Sun Cloud Realm favors bright yellow. Wind Valley Realm prefers sky blue. As for the Supreme Domain…" She hesitated, then shrugged lightly. "From what I've heard, they favor black, or perhaps deep red. It suits their rise."
Alya gave a slow nod, processing. "Huh. Okay."
The personal maid straightened, clapping her hands once. "Now, Princess, we must dress you at once. This will be your official first meeting with Lord Alistair Rehn. Master Kafel and Prince Halwin will accompany you to the border. We cannot be late."
Alya exhaled through her nose, eyeing the gowns again like they were enemy combatants.
"Fine," she muttered, already mentally bracing herself. "Let's get this over with."
Supreme Domain…
"Report!"
The heavy double doors of the Supreme Domain's grandest residence swung open and a warrior clad head-to-toe in matte black stepped inside, head already bowed low in deference.
Alistair Rehn lounged casually in a high-backed chair, with a low table in front of him, and he was holding a single golden cup.
His expression hovered somewhere between a petulant pout and quiet menace, his green eyes hard.
Regan Howser and Thane Veyer were in the room with him.
However, Alistair said nothing. He merely twirled the golden cup between his fingers, watching the warrior without blinking.
Regan Howser, standing near the wall with arms folded, broke the silence first. "Speak."
The warrior kept his gaze on the floor. "Princess Alya Valehart of Star Haven, along with her escorts, is en route as we speak. They will arrive soon."
Still, Alistair offered no reply. The cup continued its slow rotation in his hand, the motion almost meditative.
The warrior remained frozen, head bowed, waiting for permission to withdraw.
Regan's voice cut through again. "Go."
With another deep bow, the warrior retreated, doors closing softly behind him.
Regan stepped forward until he stood directly in Alistair's line of sight. "My lord," he said quietly, "are you truly certain this marriage to Princess Alya is the correct path?"
Alistair finally lowered his gaze to the cup and he carefully set it down on the table.
"Of course," he answered simply.
He stood up, towering over Regan a little and turned his back to both men, taking a single step away.
"How else," he continued, voice low and even, "am I supposed to know more about her family?"
He turned slowly, facing Regan and Thane Veyer once more. The casual pout had vanished and in its place was something colder, and harder.
"That woman… will be my stepping stone to finding the truth," he said. "Nothing more. Nothing less."
His eyes flicked between the two men, unblinking.
"This revenge has only just begun."
Regan extended a hand toward the abandoned golden cup on the table, offering it back to him. "Drink. It's important."
Alistair shot the cup a half-hearted glare, then looked away with the sulky expression of someone who knew exactly how childish he looked and didn't care.
"It's bitter," he muttered, "and it solves nothing."