Chapter 3: Myles

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The winds brushed past me. It was cold enough that my clothing was useless, and it felt like the icy wind was directly hitting bare skin.

I understood why we forced the Southerners to come up to Iqaluit, the biggest city in the Nunavut territory. This was the only city in our northernmost territory and averaged a 52 degree high every summer. Though it was cold, there was a flourishing forest scenery everywhere you turned and active fishing communities. Our kingdom had used the region for international meetings for decades. IT also helped that the environment was off-putting to most that we hosted.

"Myles, when they get here we will lie out the basic regulations for this marriage and then get right to it. We need not give them time to reconsider." My father said. He let no one on all of his plans, even his children. Maybe he thought I was an imbecile who he couldn't trust with the plans until they were underway.

"You, me you don't want to give them anytime to reconsider."

My guard turned his head, and Celine chuckled at my comment.

"First impressions are important," Celine said from her chair. I could feel the fabric I was wearing tighten around my torso. "Much better," she hummed. I rolled my eyes at her, knowing she wouldn't return my white suit to its original state even if I asked. Her thread magic had always been a peculiar specialty for a royal. The training she had gone through had turned something that society normally regarded as a domestic task magic to just as good as a weapon as any.

I hated war, but her stories of the battlefield had captivated me when I was younger. The tales of her lethal tapestries with titanium laced threads and weighted blankets decimating armies were always the best.

"They're about to land," my mom spoke as she smoothed her dress as if there were not at least six spells keeping her from being imperfect. I did not bother speaking when the four guards went to the position of attention. The jet they rode in appeared silently. It was one of the transparent bottoms. I could see warm light coming from it, which disappeared when met with the bright lights of the tarmac.

The plane inched toward the tarmac; the wheels emerging from the bottom of the plane. I found myself increasingly interested in the landing process. I looked at the ground where inscriptions illuminated in a faded green. Seconds later a cone of wind rose from the ground, catching the plane and adding to cold air around us. The cone of wind rounded out, creating a cushion for the plane to land on. That's when the nerves built and only grew when the stairs descended.

"Let's start this off right," my mother said as the first of their guards emerge from the plane. The first member of the royal to step off the plane was King Aécio II, he had a black beard that connected to his mustache, his eyes were a few shades darker than his light brown complexion I watched as he walked, his dyed silver gray hair reflecting the surrounding light. Next was Prince Aécio III, who looked almost identical to his father. The only difference was that he was shorter and muscular, while his father was slim. He held the hand of Princess Alexa, who wore a forest green dress that matched the men's suits. Her brown hair bounced as she moved, and I could see her shiver when met by the cold air.

Adjusting my posture, I watched the beautiful socialite Rosa step off the plane. She looked like a mature version of her sister. Her dress cut at the perfect angle and hair reached her waist in silky tresses. She had a slight smirk on her face. Knowing the queen would be last, I gulped.

Prince Bernardo stepped out of the pane and the first thing I took in was his height. I had seen pictures of him, but in person he towered over his family. He wore a master tailored green suit. I could see the edges of tattoos on his arms as his sleeves moved. He was lighter than the rest of his family but only slightly and had a defined bone structure that matched well with his muscular frame. His features looked like they permanently remained set in a serious expression, while strangely having a soft quality. I liked that he had thicker eyebrows, and he faded his hair short like a soldier. He caught my stare, and I felt like folding in on myself.

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