One month later

Vincent stood in his cousin’s chamber, arms crossed behind his back again, staring at the walls beyond their capital city. The last few weeks had been insane. First, their strongest Aether-made walls fell at the hands of an unknown evil, then, a Dragon Rider - the first Dragon Rider in a thousand years - came to them.

Something was changing. He felt it in the air.

He had been summoned early, on the morning of Rhey’s wedding, because there was a disturbing report to speak of.

“Our spies tell us there’s talk of a new Enchantress, born in the north. We can’t be sure, but they say she’s headed southeast.”

Towards them.

“Enchantresses aren’t a force of evil,” Nathos reasoned

“And perhaps, in her mind, annihilating dragons is no evil deed. Our kind isn’t known for our warm and fuzzies.” He turned to the King. “We should delay your wedding. Investigate this Enchantress before the whole country decides to drink for a week.”

Weddings were always an event for their kind - dragons were long lived and rarely formed a union more than once in their lifetime, which made for quite the party when one of them tied the knot. A royal wedding? No one was going to be sober this month. There would be guards posted at all times but Vincent couldn’t tell what state they’d be in. It was fair to assume that the security of their realm would be a little lax, for a time.

Rhey growled in response to that proposition. Actually growled, before baring his teeth. Vincent had to laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Right. No more talk of delaying your nuptials.” It was good to see the King in such disposition. Gone were the vacant looks, the darkness. Madness had been chased away the moment he’d found a woman who could complete his soul. “But let me double the guard, at least. I could also take a few men now, go investigate the threat and come back…”

“You plan on missing my wedding?” Now the King sounded hurt.

Vincent sighed. “Fine. Let’s just ignore these rumors. What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?”

He intended to be entirely ironic, but the King chose to take his words at face value. “Good. Let us tie that noose around my neck, shall we?”

Never had he seen a man so keen to relinquish his freedom. Forcing his worries out of his mind, at least for a few hours, Vincent smiled.

“Yes, cousin. Let’s.”

He was truly glad for Rhey, even though his parents would be positively unbearable now, no doubt. If his cousin, so close to him in age, could get married, surely Vincent could oblige them and do the same.

Viktor and Mula were right in front of the Thrones, pointedly staring at their son; Vincent ignored them as much as he could.

It wasn’t his fault. He had no Xandrie - no magical, mystical Dragon Rider made for him. When they found him a woman who looked at him the way the bride looked at her King as she walked down the long path from the door to the back of the Throne Hall, they could talk. Until then, none of their protests would move him.

“She was shaped after a goddess,” Rhey declared, although Xandrie was thinner than what was fashionable. Her athletic built was evident, even in her flowing gold dress.

Vincent tapped Rhey’s shoulder in a show of support.

All was well, until, all of a sudden, it wasn’t.

What’s the worst thing that could possibly happen? He’d asked in jest, forgetting that fate had a way of playing with the words poor mortals saw fit to say.

The doors opened violently and Vincent felt his body freeze before he could rush towards the threat. His, and every other man, woman, and child in the room. How was this possible? He knew of no power able to control a horde of dragons, bears, and other creatures, with so much ease. Yet she did, effortlessly; he’d just seen her wave her hand.

Vincent was forced to witness the whole horrific thing, entirely powerless to place himself between the threat and his cousin’s bride, as his instincts demanded.

The mage was covered by a dark cloak, just like the one who’d broken their ward, the one they’d only just defeated at Norda.

How had she broken the wards for the second time, without them hearing a single word from their guards? There had been no raven, no messenger. His mind couldn’t comprehend it.

The second thing he didn’t quite get was the fact that he wasn’t really panicking, now that he’d taken a good look at her. He should have been. This creature could seize a sword and behead them all and they wouldn’t be able to stop her. Now was the time for his heart to thump hard in his chest, for adrenaline to course through his core.

None of that happened.

The mage stopped in her tracks and removed the hood that fell over her green eyes. Green eyes he’d seen before; he recognized them down to his soul.

The mage wasn’t beautiful; her chin was small, her little nose, turned up, and her mouth, pouty. Adorable is what he would have called her, if she hadn’t been so powerful. There was a little mole at the corner of her mouth and her shapely eyebrows had been pierced. So, adorable and fierce, edgy.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, like she was a puzzle he needed to make sense of.

Vincent took a while to realize that he’d been released from the spell holding him in place; he couldn’t yet move, but he saw Rhey trying to pull Xandrie behind him. His bride wasn’t having any of that. She pushed past him and advanced towards the stranger.

“Talia?” said she.

Vincent turned to his future Queen, watching in disbelief as she moved to embrace the dangerous mage. The entire Kingdom gasped when the mage returned her hug, holding her close, pulling her as hard as her arms could.

Watching from the sideline, Vincent saw a great many things in this hug. He saw protectiveness, relief, and above all, love.

“You’re here,” the mage said softly. She’d whispered, yet her raspy voice rang clear as a bell; Vincent committed it to memory. “You’re really alright.”

The mage had been worried; no, terrified. She seemed close to tears now.

Rhey’s shoulders relaxed. “At ease,” the King ordered.

The hundred men in the Hall sheathed their swords; Vincent hadn’t even drawn his, fascinated as he was.

Meanwhile, the bride took the mage’s hand and pulled her forward, almost running to bring her close to the thrones.

“Talia,” Xandrie turned to Rhey, “meet my future husband. You made it just in time.” And then, she astounded them all; all except Vincent, who’d seen it in her eyes long before the words flew out of Xandrie’s mouth. “Rhey, this is my little sister.”

Her little sister.

Vincent snorted, thinking of the grumbling Elders who’d cried that Xandrie brought them nothing; no dukedom, no army, no foreign relations. It had mattered very little, for she’d won the Claiming, so the point was moot. But now, they were twice as foolish, for the future Queen may just have made their kingdom ally to an Enchantress.