Shani sat on the vanity as her mother carefully undid each braid. Her scalp felt horribly tender, and despite how gentle Jamila was being, every touch made her flinch.
Another whimper escaped her as Jamila worked through the next section. They were only halfway through the first braid.
“ᚠᚢᚲᚴ, Jaziel…” Jamila said as she stared at her daughter's very pink scalp. “Who braids hair this tight?” she hissed.
She let out a sigh. It was kind of him to try, but after this she was fairly certain Jaziel should never be left unsupervised with a hairbrush. At least not until she showed him the proper way to handle Shani's curls.
Shani stared up at her mother, confusion crossing her face. With practiced ease, Jamila guided her daughter's head forward again.
“Hold still please…” Jamila said as she bit her lip, her concentration flowing fully into unraveling the mess that was Jaziel's masterpiece.
“ᚠᚢᚲᚴ?” Shani said and Jamila’s hands froze. Another sigh escaped her as she began to pull apart the braids once more.
“Please don’t say that word.” She mumbled.
“Why not?” Shani asked. Jamila stopped finally releasing the last of the hair from its braided prison.
“It’s an adult word… you can’t say it until you're at least fifteen.”
Shani pouted but didn't push it. She knew the moment her mother said something was for adults, she wasn't going to explain any further.
“There… all done!” Jamila said with pride as she admired Shani’s free flowing, and slightly irritated curls.
Shani immediately began rubbing at her scalp as a fierce itch spread across it. Once that finally subsided Shani darted to bed pulling the sheets over herself. Jamila smiled and followed suit.
“What kind of cake will we have for my birthday?” Shani asked. Her eyes slightly sparkling.
Jamila raised a brow.
“I thought you weren't interested in your birthday?”
Shani froze and fiddled with her blankets slightly.
“Well… Cake is different.” She finally said and a smile spread across Jamila’s lips. Jamila tapped her lips as if she was thinking.
“Why don’t you guess?” She finally asked. Shani pouted.
“A spiced orange honey? Maybe with berries?” She asked. Her eyes looking at her mother expectantly, hopefully.
“My goodness! How did you know!” She said as she pulled her daughter into a hug and kissed the top of her head. Shani didn’t laugh like she used to but she enjoyed the warmth.
“I think I should give Caelis the first slice…” Shani said as her mother pulled away.
“Not you?” Jamila asked surprised. Shani shook her head.
“No… Caelis is small… he needs the first slice to become taller than me.”
Jamila giggled. Shani let out a yawn.
“I’m glad it will just be us and Uncle's family.” ” She said softly. Jamila froze.
“About that…” Jamila said, her tone quieter than she meant but it was enough to wake Shani up. She sat up slightly and looked at her mother, confusion filling her lavender eyes.
“Me and uncle… we decided it would be best to have a big party for your big birthday.” Jamila said with a shaky smile. Shani said nothing, she just continued to stare at her.
“But! We will still have your cake, and lots of food!” Jamila continued. Shani didn’t so much as quiver.
“And… I am in charge of the guests, who knows. Maybe you will meet some people you like!”
Shani continued to hold her tongue. Jamila's face dropped as she stared at her daughter, at the anxiety and anger.
“Please say something my dawn.”
Shani bit her lip as tears began to fill her eyes.
“You lied…”
“I-”
“You lied! You said it would be small! You promised…” Shani exclaimed as more and more tears began to fall down her cheeks.
“I know… but I am doing this for you, love.” Jamila replied as she reached towards Shani’s pointed ear. Shani pulled away. Her lips quivered but she simply rolled over so her back was facing Jamila and pulled the sheets higher.
“Mama’s a liar…” She mumbled before she tucked her head under the sheets.
Jamila felt something sharp in her chest. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.
“It will be great… I promise.”
Weeks passed in a flash. Snow had finally arrived, covering the world beyond the palace in a blanket of white. Peaceful, calm. But inside the palace the atmosphere was anything but.
It was early in the morning but servants already moved through the palace in a constant stream, hanging foliage and wreaths, lighting fireplaces and candles, adjusting and readjusting in an effort to make everything just right before the guests arrived.
The palace foyer, once white, was now covered in hues of dark sage, mauve, and hints of purple. Rugs rolled out and placed with careful precision. The space felt warmer, cozier than it had a month before.
In the kitchens, staff worked tirelessly preparing the feast. Spiced rum warmed in large batches, the scent of it drifting faintly into the halls. Fatty roasted meats, hand-held breads, and delicate pastries were arranged in careful abundance. Ciders were set aside for the two children in attendance.
At the center of it all was a cake.
A spiced honey cake layered with sweet cream and candied orange slices that peeked from between the tiers, draping gently against the golden sponge. The top was coated in a milky glaze and decorated with bright red berries, rehydrated and glistening beneath the kitchen lights.
Jaziel examined the spread of food with careful reverence.
He was already dressed for the occasion, crimson and gold draped in clean, deliberate lines. A dark cloak rested over one shoulder, falling straight and undisturbed behind him.
Nothing about him appeared out of place.
The head chef handed Jaziel a small sample of the cake and the young duke took a bite. A shiver ran up his spine as his jaw tightened.
It was sweet.
He let out a sigh. The spices helped balance the cake, but it was still too sweet for his liking. But it was still a well crafted cake, moist, flavorful, and light.
“Good… This will be perfect for the princess.”
The head chef lit up and returned to his work. Soon the kitchen staff began gathering platters and carrying them toward the great hall. Jaziel quickly snuck a piece of roasted meat and chucked it in his mouth as a palate cleanser before he turned his attention to the rest of the servants.
Everyone was tired.
But beneath it all, there was excitement.
After hours of preparation, the great hall was finally complete.
Jaziel stepped into the great hall and surveyed the space.
Tall marble pillars rose like silent sentinels, their pale surfaces washed in the glow of hundreds of candles. Light flickered along their length, soft and golden, turning the vast space into something almost intimate, warm.
Between them, a single long table stretched the length of the hall, dressed in flowing linens that pooled slightly at the edges. Every plate and silver goblet had been placed with careful precision, polished to the point he could see his own reflection.
Though the abundance upon the table threatened to undo that order.
Platters overflowed with food. Fatty roasted meats glistened beneath the candlelight, their juices catching in shallow dishes. Hand-held breads were stacked high in woven baskets, still warm, their crusts crackling faintly when touched. Pastries dusted in sugar and spice sat in delicate arrangements, almost too intricate to disturb.
The air was thick with scent. Cinnamon and clove rising gently from steaming cups of cider, while richer notes of roasted herbs, honey, and slow-cooked meats settled deeper, heavier, filling his lungs with every breath.
At the center of it all sat the focal piece: the honey cake.
Servants moved quietly along the edges of the hall, their steps softened against the polished stone. They adjusted what did not need adjusting, straightened what was already straight, their hands lingering just long enough to betray a shared understanding.
Perfection was required.
Jaziel nodded in approval, taking note of those who had put extra care into their work.
Beyond the feast, tall windows stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, their glass edged with frost. Through them, the snow beyond had transformed the palace grounds into a seamless expanse of white. Even from a distance, the view appeared almost painted.
“How goes the preparations?” a smooth voice asked.
Jaziel froze and turned to find Jamila standing behind him, still dressed in a bathing robe.
“Good. Everything is on time,” he replied matter-of-factly.
He dismissed the knights back to their stations before turning his attention back to his sister. His gaze swept over her and he shook his head.
“Almost everything is on time, that is.”
Jamila smiled.
“They went a little overboard with the bathing.”
She lifted a sleeve and sniffed at her skin. The scent of flowers, citrus, and musk still clung to her.
“And the princess?” Jaziel asked.
“She’s receiving her bath now, sir,” Jamila said, a small smirk crossing her lips.
Jaziel nodded and looked out the windows as darkness slowly approached. Then he returned his gaze to Jamila.
“Good… Now please…”
“I know, I will go get ready.” She gave him a warm smile, giving his hand a small grateful squeeze which he returned quietly before Jamila ascended the stairs with a few maids at her heels.
Jaziel stood in the hall as nobles began to filter in. He greeted them one by one.
“Welcome.” He said as he shook an older gentleman's hand. The man returned the gesture and moved in. Kisses on ladies hands and more greetings as people clad in elegant silks and covered in jewels admired the room and feast on the table.
“No empress yet I see.” An older man mentioned to Jaziel, his incredibly young wife standing beside him with a fan in hand.
“Yes… But she will be here soon. A beauty such as her majesty cannot be rushed afterall.” Jaziel responded with a polite smile.
“That’s true!” The man laughed. Pleasantries were exchanged for a few minutes before he turned his attention to the other guests.
Low voices began to gather and rise through the room as nobles caught up discussing fashion, politics, trade, and the latest court gossip, their presence slowly filling what had once felt like a vast space. Fabric whispered against fabric. Jewelry caught and scattered the light. Every movement, every murmur, seemed to echo.
Through it all, the smile on Jaziel's lips never faltered.
“I heard the princess is cursed.” An older woman said.
“Yes! I heard her skin changed when she went to town!” Another replied with excitement.
“I wonder what skin she will wear for her birthday.” A man laughed.
Jaziel's jaw twitched as the words drifted over to him. He took a deep breath and excused himself before turning to the gossipers.
“That’s an interesting piece of gossip… I assure you the princess is a pinnacle of beauty and grace just like her mother.” He replied with a charming smile.
The whole group straightened. Several of the women raised their fans to hide the flush creeping across their faces, their eyes fixed on him with equal parts anxiety and admiration.
“And as for what ‘skin’ she’s wearing…” His eyes drifted down to the man who was frozen with a goblet to his lips.
“She is the embodiment of Gildan prestige.” His smile was charming but the man swallowed hard.
“Unless… you were trying to insinuate something is wrong with my family line?” He asked with a shocked look crossing his face. The man shook his head quickly.
“Of course not! I meant I look forward to meeting our beloved princess…” The man quickly replied and all the women agreed with the man. Jaziel smiled brightly.
“I am so glad to hear that! If you will excuse me…”
After a few more moments of mingling and laughter, all went silent as the sound of footsteps approached the room. All eyes drifted towards the entrance of the room as the butler stepped forward.
“Presenting the Moon of Gildan, Empress Jamila!”
Jamila walked in… no, floated, and it was as if time itself stilled the moment eyes fell upon their empress.
Jamila wore ivory.
The gown flowed around her in soft, weightless layers, the fabric catching the candlelight like fresh snow kissed by gold. It wrapped and draped across her form with effortless precision, parting at either side in high slits that revealed glimpses of golden adorned legs catching the light with every step.
The neckline dipped lower than tradition would favor, but not enough to be improper.
A delicate chain of gold traced the curve of her collarbone, dipping subtly along her skin before disappearing into the folds of the gown, glinting softly with each step she took.
Upon her head rested a golden wreath crown, a crescent moon nestled among its rising branches. Her luminous hair fell in soft, controlled waves with clasps of gold throughout.
She did not rush. Her steps were soft and delicate as her lavender eyes watched everyone carefully. Her eyes caught sight of Jaziel, whose eyes looked slightly larger than he usually allowed.
An amused smile tugged at her tinted lips.
She came to a stop before the gathered crowd, her hands resting lightly before her, her chin slightly raised.
Silence.
“Your Majesty,” Jaziel said with a small bow breaking the silence. Voices followed suit echoing one after another as the crowd bowed.
Jaziel approached first and Jamila offered him a pale hand. He placed a kiss on the back of it before taking a step beside her.
Slowly, the nobles approached her one by one, each placing a kiss upon the back of her hand. She greeted each with quiet warmth, thanking them for coming.
“You put a lot of work into your outfit today…” Jaziel whispered, his eyes glancing at her from the corners. Something akin to suspicion filling his eyes.
“I will take that as a compliment.” she replied with a pleased smile. As the last guest returned to their spot in the room. Confusion crossed her face for a split second as she looked over the room once more.
“Where are Iselle and Caelis?” she asked as she turned to face her brother.
Jaziel exhaled, the sound edged with frustration.
“Iselle said tonight was… ominous,” he replied. “She refused to let Caelis come and she would not leave him with a maid. She sends her apologies.”
Jamila’s brows softened with concern.
“Ominous?” She asked, confused. Jaziel simply shrugged with a small sigh.
“Oh dear… Shani is not going to be happy about this…” she murmured, a hand rising to the corner of her lips.
Shani had barely spoken to her in the past weeks. Her feelings were valid, of course… it was the first time Jamila had ever broken a promise to her. The only comfort she accepted was that her Caelis would at least be there.
Jamila let out a quiet breath, already bracing herself for what would follow.
A sharp knock echoed through the hall interrupting her thought and bringing everyone's gaze away from Jamila.
Jaziel’s gaze shifted toward the doors, then he looked back at the nobles who had gathered, beginning to whisper among themselves, confused.
All expected guests had already arrived.
Jaziel looked toward Jamila now, sharing the same confusion as the crowd.
Jamila said nothing, her attention fully on a butler who was looking through a list.
“Best not to keep guests waiting in the snow,” she said with a warm, knowing smile.
The butler bowed quickly and hurried from the room.
He returned moments later, visibly shaken, sweat clinging to his brow as he cleared his throat.
“P–Presenting Lord Lucius, and Lady Quinn… Chieftains of Sullivian, and sir Shin.”
Silence swallowed the room as three towering figures entered the room.