---Mira--
The first time I saw her I knew.
I alway hated parties.
Fake smiles, political conversations masked as toasts. Strategic alliances dressed in silk gowns and gold cufflinks. Nothing in those rooms felt real, except the weight of my father’s expectations pressing Into the into the space between my shoulder blades.
But that night… everything changed.
I wasn’t even supposed to be there but my father insisted I attend to “represent the Draven’s name with integrity.” But what he really meant was stand there and remind everyone I’m next in line. His legacy, his soldier, his sacrifice.
I wore the mask. I shook hands. I nodded when I was supposed to, laughed when needed.
And then I saw her.
It wasn’t the dress, because she wasn’t in one. She wore black; a simple fitted shirt, slee
