Eight birds flew in—four with relatively simple brown-and-tan feathers, the females, and four with iridescent hues shimmering in the firelight of the hall, the males. It was, of course, the House of Paradise. They were the only house where extra feathers were common, either tail feathers jutting out from their backs just below their wings or a ring of pearlescent plumage around their necks. And all four males had them—one a simple curly white tendril, one a voluminous train of fluffy yellows and whites, one a ring of gleaming turquoise framing his face, and one a single long plume of deep black.
Lyana couldn’t help but stare, which was the point of the natural display.
Her eyes widened when they started to dance. The four women in the center weaved a circle together, holding hands and releasing them, paying no attention to the men who danced around them. And the men, for their part, did their best to catch their mates' attention. They dove, twirled, and flared their wings, tossing their extra plumage this way and that. There was no music, but somehow, as they moved, Lyana almost heard the melody they created with their bodies. A mating song. A lover’s dance. The women slowly turned their attention outwards, showing interest and retreating, leading the men to make even more dramatic displays of their brightly colored feathers. Lyana’s heart beat faster as the men dove, then became light as air when they soared. By the time they reached the main atrium, she was enraptured, all attempts at a princessly pretense gone.
With the mating pairs set, the dancers descended to the ground as four groups of two, transitioning into duets. With a spin, the women transformed. Their dull tan garments unfurled to reveal brilliant emerald and amethyst silks that flurried like an extra set of wings as they moved. The men held them aloft as they kicked, brown wings synchronized with their limbs, gaining a beauty they hadn’t had moments before. The pairs spun in each other’s arms, nothing but moving swirls of color, twirling so fast Lyana wasn’t sure how they didn’t tangle into a knot and fall. The couples wove in and out, spinning and kicking and leaping and flying, shifting closer and closer, until they all collapsed—the males spreading their wings to cover the bodies of the females.
The hall grew still and the doors at the other end opened again.
Lyana leaned forward in her seat.
A girl with a mask of auburn feathers stepped through the entrance, her wings spread and all her weight balanced on the very tips of her toes. The top of her dress was a corset that seemed molded to her skin and made of liquid jade, and the skirt was short and broken into five sections, parting like violet petals as she glided forward. In a flash, she leapt and began to twirl, spinning and spinning, arching her arms as she raced in a straight line down the center of the floor. Two bare-chested, masked figures followed—a prince with sandy wings and a trail of emerald feathers down either side of his neck, and another with black wings attached by a patch of bright golden-and-sapphire feathers that looked nearly molten as he moved. They chased after their sister, flashing their bright colors, diving in circles around each other, forming a pattern in the air as the girl traced a path along the ground. All three came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the main dais, kneeling before Lyana had a moment to process their display of speed and skill. With bowed heads, each held a vial aloft—medicines, their traditional gift.
The Queen of the House of Paradise stood, her wings a speckled brown, and gestured toward her children. “May I present Milo Mnesmeus, born of the god Mnesme, Crown Prince of the House of Paradise. His sister, Iris Mnesmeus, born of the god Mnesme, Princess of the House of Paradise. And their youngest brother, Yuri Mnesmeus, born of the god Mnesme, Prince of the House of Paradise.”
As the queen listed their names and titles, one of the boys looked up, eyes subtly searching Lyana’s. His deep-green neck plumes perfectly set off the hazel of his irises as his gaze found hers and held it for a moment in evident curiosity. She understood why when her attention shifted to the jade ring dangling from a chain around his neck—the royal seal of his house, stark against the pale skin of his bare chest. He was the crown prince, and as such, he’d be one of her possible suitors.
Unfortunately for him, her mind was already made up.
Lyana blinked, glancing away, as his queen continued.
“May we gift our offering to the god Aethios in the name of Mnesme, god of the arts that preserve life and those that give us reasons to live. Medicines and salves from our homeland to keep the House of Peace strong, and our gratitude for all that you sacrifice on our behalf in serving our god Aethios, the highest of them all.”
The princes and princess gently placed their vials in the offering basket and then swiftly fluttered to the empty seats beside their parents.
The hall grew quiet as hundreds of heads turned back toward the main door, waiting for the next house. Lyana, however, couldn’t help but feel the heat of two sets of eyes studying her carefully controlled features—her father’s, alight with anticipation, and her mother’s, a bit sharper and more analytic. Luka, nervous and protective, tightened his hands on the arms of his throne.
Lyana’s heart dropped yet rose at the same time, with a sense of dread and intrigue in an odd mixture that threw her off balance as the doors finally opened. The next house was the House of Flight. And she knew from all her snooping that its crown prince was the one her father had chosen for her. The mate she was supposed to select. The mate that was expected.
Lyana swallowed.
A flock of hummingbirds shot through the entrance, mirroring her nerves. Their wings beat so fast they were little more than blurs of blue silk darting around the hall. Each of them held a jug of what Lyana could only assume was nectar as they moved to their allotted positions, then hovered twenty feet in the air. There were now two lines of ten people along either side of the entry.
Two masked figures entered, walking slowly, wearing matching navy jackets and tan trousers, wings tucked so Lyana couldn’t see them. By the feathers shrouding their faces, she could guess their coloring. One mask was a violet tanzanite that shifted into a rainbow of colors as the man walked, and the other had orange hues that reminded her of the setting sun. From this distance, she couldn’t tell who was the crown prince, but she guessed the first, by his stature. His hands were clasped behind his back, and there was an aura of arrogance about him that reeked of a firstborn.
As the princes made their way, step by step, down the hall, a flurry of activity took place above their heads. The hummingbirds in formation threw the marigold liquid in their jugs over the princes until a glittering pattern filled the air as they darted around, catching, tossing, zipping, and zooming. They moved so fast their bodies seemed to disappear, as if the two princes were alone beneath a ceiling that moved with them. When they reached the main atrium, the hummingbirds soared higher and spread wider. Lyana winced, waiting for a splash to land on her head, but nothing did. The hummingbirds reached their final spots and hovered there, throwing the nectar back and forth so the pattern became clear—a lily.
Just as suddenly, it disappeared.
The hummingbirds turned their jugs upside down.
Lyana flinched.
Before a single drop hit the ground, an orange blur circled the room, catching every falling stream, then speeding to a halt before the offering basket with a bowed head. The other prince remained in the center of the room, and a moment later, the hovering birds produced flowers and tossed them into the air. The prince with the iridescent mask jumped into action, a figure of blurred glitter as he caught the falling buds, one by one.