Merely two days after the strange woman’s visit, Daliya had already forgotten everything about it. Lost in the haziness of the festivities and their preparations, she barely had time for a morning sword session before she was whisked away to attend to whatever needed her approval. Apparently, a knight’s words—even the captain of the knight’s order—weren’t enough to approve certain things. For her eyes only, they had said.

  The emperor’s gift, that she could understand. But why would the castle’s flower arrangements be of utmost importance?

  She stood in front of the storeroom, overseeing the hundreds of frozen flowers cargo carted inside. Moonshade Bloom, a flower from the far north, in what was once known as Lyria, with crystal-like petals shining like the faint glow of a full moon in a starless night sky. Also the late empress’s favorite flower, according to Haitham.

  For how long did he stalk the real princess?

  Daliya sent him a suspicious look.

  “What?” He raised a querying brow at her.

  “Nothing.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Really now. As if I don’t know you.” His finger drummed against his forearm, a monotone rhythm that complemented the controlled and measured steps of the servants as they carried the delicate cargo. “Come on. Out with it.” He grinned.

  Did he really? And if he did, what about her? She barely knew anything about him. The visit that had slithered through her mind these couple of days was a testament to that. Apart from him being an assassin sent for the real princess’ head, she almost knew nothing about him. That conversation that day helped shed some light on who he was—a helpless child caught in the throng of war. But what else was to him?

  Before she could voice her thoughts, a knight stood before her, posture straight, face grim. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips, feeling a bit bad when the knight flinched.

  “What seems to be the problem?” she asked.

  The knight hesitated before saying, “Your Highness, we have verified the blooms’ load. The numbers fall short of the required blooms for the festivities.”

  Daliya paused. “You mean they didn’t send the amount we asked for?”

  The knight nodded, shoulders tense.

  Daliya wanted to tap his shoulder and tell him to relax. But it would probably send the poor man into a heart attack. What was his name? Akal? Akil?... something like that.

  “Have you tried to contact the…” She frowned. She couldn’t say customer service. Heck, she didn’t even know who was sending all these flowers.

  He gave a sharp nod. “We’ve tried to inform the warden about the mishap. But we received no answers.”

  “I see.” She paused, contemplating her next action. She saw no need to make a big deal out of things. They were but flowers. But then again…

  Daliya never knew her mother. She had breathed her last as Daliya drew her first breath. Difficult childbirth, her grandmother had said. Her mother was of a weak build. The doctor had advised her to terminate the pregnancy, but her mother had refused. A warrior, she had called her.

  Her little warrior…

  Daliya shut down that train of thought. She watched the last crates carried into the storeroom.

  The princess seemed to really love her mother. The statue in the garden and these flowers were proof of how deeply she cared about her. And it wasn’t Daliya’s place to break such a fragile connection. Even if the princess was long gone, she would honor her wishes.

  “Send another inquiry to the warden.”

  All of this was making her feel angsty.

  The knight bowed and hurried away, his boots barely making a dent in the snow in his haste.

  She glanced at Hatham. “Where is this town?”

  She frowned. He couldn’t know that, could he?

  His brows pulled into a thoughtful frown. “A town in the far north. Nyra, I think its name was. A town trapped in perpetual winter. Where there is nothing but snow, ice, and even more snow.” He shivered at the thought.

  “How do you know all this? Did you have her shadowed?”

  He looked at her, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Something like that.”

  Daliya gawked at him. “You have spies in the castle!”

  His laughter turned a few heads towards them. Daliya glimpsed a few maids, scurrying away, giggling at each other.

  “We’re assassins. Information is nothing but a side dish.”

  Daliya narrowed her eyes at him. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are they still here?”

  “But of course. They won’t lose their job just because I showed up here.”

  “Who are they?”

  He leaned his head down, staring at her. “You’ll meet them eventually. But not today.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  She huffed. “You don’t trust me.”

  She felt a tightness in her chest—like she was trying to breathe through pins and needles. She glanced at the last crate making its way to the storeroom, then back at him, trying to keep whatever she was truly feeling out of her face. She wanted to pass it as a slight annoyance, but the look he was shooting her gave her away.

  “It’s not about trust. The mole is simply not on the premises for the moment. You’ll meet them once their mission is over and done with.”

  “What mission?”

  He hummed. “They’ll tell you once they return.”

  She narrowed her eyes . “you promise?”

  “But of course. I have no reason to keep that information from you. Not for long anyway.”

  She stared at him, silent. The infuriating man stared back, his lips tilted slightly up in amusement.

  “Fine.” She sighed.

  Things in the town weren’t much better. The villagers glanced at her with a wariness that wasn’t there on her last visit.

  She glimpsed the blacksmiths hovering around her, watching her with doubtful glances. But one glance from her, and they hurried toward her, apologizing for the displeasure their creation caused her. Daliya shook her head and expressed her desire to see the statue again.

  This time, Haitham’s eyes were fixed on the two marble men, not straying for even a second. His face was void of any expression, but his eyes were a whole canva of determination and another emotion she couldn’t name.

  With a heavy heart, she gave her blessing to the monstrosity.

  If this was a normal citizen’s reaction to the empire’s massacres, she feared to think what the emperor would be like. She had a rough idea about him. A ruthless man who was at the head of the strongest army in this world, hellbent on conquering other nations and putting an end to magic’s existence.

  But if so… then why was his daughter an Ice Wielder?

  According to Haitham, the late empress was an Ice Wielder herself. She was the descendant of the last royal line of Lyria, the last Lyrian princess. It was not clear whether their marriage was out of love or merely a business transaction.

  Haitham had told her that the Awsansian Empire had approached Lyria with an alliance, and the marriage wasn’t one of its conditions. Only after the empress’s death did he attack the northern kingdom. It was the last of his conquests.

  But one thing for sure, he never remarried.

  Daliya huffed. At least, he…

  Daliya gritted her teeth. This whole thing brought a bad taste to her mouth. She closed her eyes, stopping the wave of unwanted thoughts from flooding her mind.

  She had no time for this. She needed to think.

  What would be the best gift from a daughter to her father?

  She tsked. She was the worst candidate to make decisions on such a matter. She had never gifted her own father anything before. Not that she had a father. That person could barely be called a family member, let alone a father.

  Not that she hadn’t entertained the idea. Years ago, she had spent months thinking about the perfect gift to cheer him up, to get him to look at her and smile like the fathers she saw in the playground playing and laughing with their children. But he never did. No matter what she did, he would always look at her like she was the reason for his misfortune—the reason for losing his wife.

  A hand on her shoulder brought her back from her daze. She blinked at Haitham, who stared at her with a concerned expression.

  “Where have you wandered off to?” he asked.

  She sighed. “It’s the gift. I don’t know what to gift the emperor.”

  He paused. “I doubt he would care for any of that. Unless–” He raised a finger. “It’s the crystal he had sent the princess to find.”

  Daliya cringed. “Yeah, fat chance he’ll get that.”

  Haitham grinned. “My sole solace.”

  Daliya snorted. “You mean my doom.”

  “Nah, he’ll still need you. You’re his only chance to locate it. As long as he believes that it hasn’t been found, you’re still in the clear.”

  Daliya frowned at him. “What does he want it anyway? Isn’t he a normal human?” She gasped. “Is he an Elememtalist too?”

  Haitham shook his head. “He’s as normal as they go. But this stone is a bit different from the other soul stones. This soul stone is—well, was—one of five other shards originating from the same core.”

  “You mean that stone was only a shard?”

  He nodded. “Legend has it; it belonged to the first Elememtalist who had walked the land. After his death, his core turned into a soul stone so powerful it was capable of granting the most impossible of wishes.”

  Daliya narrowed her eyes at him. “Really,” she said drily.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” Haitham said with a raised eyebrow.

  Daliya paused.

  Right.

  “All the five nations fought over it. Lands ravaged. Cities leveled to the ground. Whole areas turned to ash.”

  Of course. All for power.

  “Then, they decided to split the soul stone into five parts. Each nation was granted a shard. It would divide its power, but at least it would stop the senseless bloodshed. And yes, even normal humans, not only us, can get their wishes granted.”

  Impressive.

  “But if there are five shards, where are the others?”

  “Some were used, some were lost. This one was the last shard sighted in the last century.”

  “Oh, does that mean it’s the last one?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows.”

  Daliya gnawed at her lower lip. “Can’t the Seer be of any help? She might get a glimpse of the other shards.”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. If she did, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. The whole prophecy thing would have been averted. After all, it’s her job as a Seer to ensure the survival of our people.”

  Daliya turned on him. “Now that you mention it. What’s this prophecy about? And don’t think about avoiding the matter. I’ll fasten your legs to the ground if I have to.”

  He chortled a small laugh. “I wasn’t hiding it.”

  “Right.”

  “You were unstable. Telling you something that could upset you might have setback your training.”

  She tapped her leg on the ground, sparks of frost appearing underneath her boots. “I have fine control over my powers now, so out with it.”

  “It’s just a prophecy that speaks about the world’s destruction. Something that was set into motion with your arrival. You’re basically the first sign of the apocalypse. The catalyst.”

  There was a long pause. They stood there staring at each other. Daliya was rooted in place, while Haitham had the audacity to smile.

  The Daliya yelled, “What?!”

  “It’s not that bad. As you aid, we’ll find the other shards, and then everything will be fine,” he said, trying to placate her.

  “What do you mean it’s not that bad!”

  Daliya was furious. How dare he hide this from her. The first sign? The catalyst?

  “Wait! Does that mean the princess could have stopped it?”

  He paused. “Maybe?”

  Daliya’s shoulders sagged. That horrible, cruel, heartless human being. Was there a limit to her cruelty?