Chapter 2: The Betrothal Swap

The Grand Reception Hall of House Vance was a masterwork of ancient grandeur. Sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass archways, illuminating white marble pillars wrapped in gold leaf. Servants in formal velvet liveries lined the perimeter, carrying silver trays of spiced tea and sweet pastries.

At the center of the hall stood the Imperial Envoys.

On the left stood Second Prince Caspian. Dressed in immaculate white royal robes laced with gold thread, he looked every bit the picture of a fairytale prince. His golden hair caught the light, and his handsome, delicate face wore a practiced, gentle smile.

On the right stood Regent Duke Valerius.

Valerius was a stark contrast to the courtly prince. Towering over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and imposing, he wore heavy obsidian military armor beneath a dark cloak lined with winter wolf fur. A thin, faint scar ran down his left jawline—a badge of honor from northern battlefields. His face was carved from granite, devoid of idle emotion, and his dark grey eyes were as sharp and unyielding as polished obsidian.

Count Vance, the sisters’ aging father, bowed respectfully before the two royal guests. “Your Highness, Your Grace. House Vance is deeply honored by the Imperial favor today.”

Prince Caspian stepped forward, holding a carved ivory box containing the Imperial Jade Phoenix Pendant—the official betrothal token intended for the eldest daughter, Sara.

“Count Vance,” Caspian spoke softly, his voice melodious and captivating. “The royal house recognizes the loyalty of House Vance. As promised, I have come to present the Jade Phoenix token to your eldest daughter, Lady Sara—”

“Wait!”

A sharp voice rang through the grand hall, interrupting the Imperial ritual.

Gasps echoed among the attending nobles and servants. Count Vance’s face turned pale with shock.

Mara stepped out from behind the velvet curtains, her scarlet gown rustling loudly. She did not curtsy; instead, she marched straight toward the center of the hall, her eyes locked hungrily on Prince Caspian.

“Mara! Control yourself! What insolence is this?” Count Vance hissed under his breath.

Mara ignored her father completely. She dropped to one knee before Prince Caspian, raising her hands in a dramatic plea.

“Your Highness! Lord Chancellor! Imperial Envoys!” Mara proclaimed, her voice ringing clearly across the marble hall. “According to imperial tradition, a betrothal must align with true heart and destiny! I, Mara Vance, have received a divine dream from the ancestors! My sister Sara’s aura is incompatible with the royal bloodline—it will bring misfortune to Your Highness!”

Prince Caspian blinked in genuine surprise, his smooth smile faltering for a fraction of a second. “Lady Mara… what are you proposing?”

Mara lifted her eyes, glowing with arrogant triumph. “I beg the Imperial Court to swap the betrothal agreements! Let me receive the Jade Phoenix Pendant and serve Your Highness as your bride! And let my sister Sara be bestowed upon Regent Duke Valerius!”

Silence descended upon the grand hall like a heavy anvil.

Count Vance trembled with rage and embarrassment. “Mara! Have you lost your mind? The imperial betrothal decrees were drafted by the Privy Council!”

“Father, it is for the good of our family!” Mara insisted loudly, stealing a glance at Sara, who was just descending the marble staircase.

Sara glided down the steps gracefully, her midnight-blue velvet gown trailing behind her like a starlit night sky. Her dark hair was styled with a single sapphire pin, and her demeanor was serenely composed. She did not display an ounce of anger, panic, or humiliation.

Mara watched Sara closely, waiting to see Sara break down, cry, or beg for Caspian’s hand. In Mara’s mind, Sara must be devastated to lose the future Emperor.

Instead, Sara walked straight to her father’s side, bowed elegantly to the guests, and spoke in a calm, melodic voice.

“Father, please do not anger yourself,” Sara said softly. “If my younger sister feels so strongly about a divine revelation, and if Her Ladyship desires Prince Caspian’s hand so desperately… I, as her elder sister, am willing to step aside.”

Mara’s triumphant smirk broadened. Fool! Mara thought joyfully. You think you are being generous, Sara? You have just given me the crown! Enjoy your life with that terrifying, bloodthirsty brute!

Prince Caspian’s eyes shifted toward Sara. For a brief moment, a flash of annoyance crossed his handsome face. He had calculated that Sara’s calm elegance and her faction’s wealth were ideal for his immediate plans. However, seeing Mara’s frantic devotion and recognizing that House Vance’s military backing remained tied to the family regardless of which sister he took, Caspian quickly recovered his charming mask.

Caspian smiled warmly at Mara, stepping down to take her hand. “If Lady Mara is so devoted, and Lady Sara agrees… I see no reason to defy such passionate destiny. Lord Chancellor, adjust the imperial record.”

“Understood, Your Highness,” the Lord Chancellor murmured, hurriedly altering the parchment scrolls.

Mara practically trembled with delight as Caspian placed the Jade Phoenix token into her hands. She clutched it to her chest, glaring at Sara with smug condescension. I won. I stole your future, Sara!

Meanwhile, a heavy, silent presence approached Sara.

Regent Duke Valerius stepped forward. His long black cloak brushed the marble floor, and the air around him cooled noticeably. The surrounding nobles shrank back in instinctive fear from the military titan.

Valerius stood before Sara. Up close, he was towering, his broad shoulders blocking out the golden sunlight from the archways. He looked down at her with intense, probing dark eyes—eyes that had seen a thousand battlefields and a million lies.

He reached into his leather gauntlet and pulled out an iron-wood box lined with crimson silk. Inside lay the Obsidian Dragon Ring—the emblem of the Regent’s authority and supreme military command over Solaria.

“Lady Sara,” Valerius’s voice was deep, resonant, and low like distant thunder. “My estate is cold. It is guarded by iron and blood, not flowers and poetry. My reputation in this capital is poisonous. Are you truly willing to accept this token?”

He gave her a out. He offered her a chance to refuse, knowing full well how the court slandered his name.

Sara looked up directly into Valerius’s dark eyes. She saw no cruelty in them—only a deep, quiet strength, and a profound weariness of court hypocrisy.

Sara smiled softly, stepping closer to him until the faint scent of cedarwood and cold steel enveloped her. She reached out her slender, pale hand and took the heavy Obsidian Dragon Ring.

“Your Grace,” Sara whispered, her voice clear and firm enough for the entire hall to hear. “I do not seek flowers and poetry. I seek strength, truth, and a partner who stands firm when the storm rages. Obsidian does not break. I accept Your Grace’s proposal with honor.”

Valerius’s dark eyes widened imperceptibly. A subtle, almost imperceptible twitch answered at the corner of his stern mouth.

“Then it is settled,” Valerius declared, his voice echoing through the grand hall. “Three days from now, the Grand Regent’s carriage will escort Duchess Sara Vance to Obsidian Manor.”

Standing across the hall, Mara watched Sara place the dragon ring onto her finger, expecting Sara to look terrified. But when Sara turned her head, her violet eyes met Mara’s.

In Sara’s eyes, there was no grief. There was only pity.

A cold shiver inexplicably ran down Mara’s spine, casting a tiny, uneasy shadow over her stolen victory.