3. Moonlight On The Bridge

The Grand Conclave unfolded like a slow-blooming storm.

Castle Veilridge rose from the hills of the neutral zone covered in mist, its blackstone towers laced with silver wards that shimmered under moonlight. Tonight the ancient fortress belonged to no single kingdom, neither Thornvale nor Viremonthe. Tonight it belonged to the ceremony.

Leo Drazan stepped out of the Thornvale carriage into a night steeped with cold and expectation. Dark velvet cloak trailing, he inhaled the mountain air that smelled sharp, like pine trees after rain, with a weird hint of something old and magical. His father’s entourage flanked him like shadows. Behind them, musicians tuned stringed instruments that hummed with enchantments.

His mind, however, was far from the music.

That dream again - the fire, the flames evermoving skyward, the phantom woman whispering a name that wasn’t his. Marcus, always Marcus.

“Prince Leo.” Anna’s voice cut into his thoughts like a knife of honey. She stepped down gracefully, silver silk clinging to her body as if the moonlight adored her. Her white-gold crown sparkled against hair which was as red as fresh roses. “Try not to look so haunted. You’ll frighten the Viremonthe delegates before we even start.”

Leo managed a thin smile. “Perhaps that would save us time.”

Anna’s answering grin was pure calculation. “And spoil the dance? Never.” She tucked her arm through his. “Smile for the peace you’re supposed to protect, my prince.”

Peace. The word felt sharp and breakable.

Across the courtyard, the Viremonthe delegation arrived in a sweep of dark green cloaks and banners stitched with silver serpents. At their center strode Cris Orven, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark-gold hair tied carelessly back. He moved with the confidence of someone who ignored every rule in the book because he could.

Lori walked beside him, blade strapped across her back despite the ceremonial dress. Her smirk dared anyone to protest.

Cris scanned the courtyard with restless eyes, pretending boredom. He felt anything but.

Something buzzed under his skin, a pulse older than his heartbeat. He’d sensed it since they crossed the border into Veilridge. A pull he couldn’t name.

“You look like you’re about to jump off a cliff,” Lori murmured.

“I feel like the cliff’s about to jump at me,” Cris replied dryly.

“That’s comforting.” She glanced toward the Thornvale contingent, eyes narrowing. “Ah. Royal peacocks, twelve o’clock. I’d bet my sword that the red dress is sharper than it looks.”

Cris followed her gaze - and everything slowed.

The prince in black velvet. Midnight hair. Eyes the blue of glacial ice. Their gazes collided across the courtyard’s silver-lit expanse.

The world roared silent.

For a heartbeat, Cris forgot how to breathe. His body leaned forward before his mind caught up, drawn by a recognition that made no sense. He knew that face. No, he knew that soul.

Leo’s breath caught as if someone had punched him right in the face. The stranger’s hazel eyes burned with a heat that reached across the cold night, straight into the hollow place behind his ribs.

Not a stranger. Never a stranger.

A voice that wasn’t his whispered, “There you are.”

Anna squeezed his arm. “You’re staring,” she said lightly, though her tone sharpened. “Who is that?”

“I…don’t know,” Leo admitted, voice low.

“Then why do you look as if you do?”

The formal procession began, but neither heir heard the heralds’ pronouncements. Through feasts, speeches, and the rush of music, their thoughts kept drifting back.

By the time the moon reached its peak, the hall felt too small, the air too thick. Cris slipped out first, Lori trailing like a shadow.

“Getting some air?” she asked.

“Something like that.” He headed for the outer bridge - a stretch of pale stone curving over a river that glittered with moonlight.

The night smelled of rain and old legends.

Leo found himself drawn there moments later, feet moving of their own accord. He saw the figure leaning against the railing, gold-brown hair stirring in the wind, and knew.

“Leaving your own party?” he asked.

Cris turned, surprised and not. “Could say the same about you.”

They regarded each other, the silence heavy with something unspoken.

“Prince Leo, right?” Cris said finally. “Your reputation precedes you. Brooding, dutiful, mildly terrifying.”

Leo let out a short laugh. “And you must be Cris Orven. The reckless heir. Sword fights before breakfast, rumors of climbing the palace walls at midnight.”

“Rumors?” Cris smirked. “I do my best to keep them interesting.”

Their eyes locked again. The pull between them was undeniable, an invisible thread tightening until the air itself seemed ready to spark.

“I know this sounds…” Leo began.

“Insane?” Cris finished.

“Yes.”

“Same here.” Cris leaned on the stone rail, studying him. “I’ve never seen you before tonight. But it feels like I’ve been…looking for you.”

Leo’s throat worked. “I dream of fire,” he said quietly. “Of someone calling my name. Not Leo. Marcus.”

Cris stiffened. “Marcus,” he echoed, the name tasting oddly familiar. “And Mia,” he added without thinking.

They both stared.

“Do you believe in…?” Leo trailed off.

“Reincarnation?” Cris’s smirk returned, thinner this time. “Ask me again when I’m sober.”

Wind hissed through the bridge arches, carrying the scent of rain and something ancient, like a memory awakening.

Back in the ballroom, Anna scanned the crowd, anger curled up behind her perfect smile. “Where is Leo?” she asked no one in particular.

Owen Tucker, standing beside her, followed her gaze with lazy interest. He was tall, striking, his deep voice a quiet anchor amid the noise. “Your prince seems distracted tonight.”

Anna’s eyes narrowed. “Find out why.”

Owen’s smile was slow, dangerous. “With pleasure.”

The moon slid toward the horizon. Neither Leo nor Cris noticed. They stood at the center of the bridge as though the rest of the world had already fallen away.

“I don’t know what this is,” Leo admitted.

“Neither do I,” Cris said. “But it feels…”

“...inevitable,” Leo finished.

They were close enough now that Leo could see the flecks of green in Cris’s hazel eyes. Close enough to feel the shared heartbeat in the air between them.

A distant bell rang at midnight.

And from somewhere deep in the forest, a wolf howled low and full of warning.

Cris’s head snapped toward the sound. “We’re being watched,” he said.

Leo sensed it too, the prickling at the back of his neck. But he couldn’t tell whether the danger came from the woods or from the choice neither of them could unmake.