Chapter 2: Alone in Silver Heights

Oh, Dad.

I raised my hand to stop his endless advice.

“Dad, your daughter is a renowned beauty across the Four Corners and the Seven States. There’s no need to worry about these little things. Tomorrow I’m heading to Heaven. What’s most important is—did you pack Chef Howie into my dowry?”

I grinned and twirled a strand of hair, hoping to lighten the mood. Dad’s always been a sucker for a joke, especially if it’s about food.

Dad stroked his beard, hesitating for a long moment before finally saying:

“Good girl, marriage isn’t child’s play. You’re not going up there for fun. Wait until you and the Crown Prince get along, then I’ll send Howie to you. Otherwise, it might affect your relationship with the Crown Prince.”

He gave me that serious-dad look, the one that means business, but I could see the worry lines around his eyes.

Hearing this, I got anxious and clung to Dad’s sleeve, wailing:

“Dad, please let me take him! You know I can’t live without Howie! If you keep him here, you might as well let me die! Ugh, I’m begging you!”

I let my Southern drama flag fly, throwing in a little extra sob for effect. Honestly, I could win an award. Dad just looked at me, caught between laughing and crying.

Dad was speechless at my antics. He composed himself and snapped:

“Savannah, behave yourself! Go to Heaven and get married properly tomorrow, or I’ll lock Howie in the basement and you’ll never see him again!”

He pointed a finger at me. But I could see the corners of his mouth twitching. That’s Dad—tough talk, soft heart.

Thinking back on it, my hands tremble a little. Dad doesn’t mess around. I haven’t even met the Heavenly Crown Prince, yet he’s marrying me off and won’t even let me take Howie!

I sigh, tracing the embroidery on my dress with my finger. The silk is cool and smooth, but my heart is all tangled up. My days in the Heavenly Palace are going to be pure torture.

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On my wedding night, candles burn bright, shadows flicker, and everyone’s coupled up.

The palace glows with golden light pouring through stained glass windows. There’s the scent of roses and something sweet—maybe peonies—filling the air. Somewhere, a string quartet plays soft music, barely audible over the hum of conversation.

No, not paired off. Not yet.

Right now, I’m sitting alone on the wedding bed, waiting.

The wedding banquet is held in the Crown Prince’s Silver Heights Palace. Up front, guests toast and drink, but there’s none of those rowdy bridal games I’d been dreading. Still, why hasn’t anyone come to see me at all? For the record, “bridal games” are those embarrassing party tricks that people love to spring on new couples—dodged a bullet there.

Ugh! I am the only princess of the Southern Coast! The one and only gold-and-silver two-tone lucky dragon in all of Heaven and Earth!

I puff out my cheeks and cross my arms, just like I used to when Dad said no dessert before dinner. Some habits never die.

No, the only gold-and-silver beauty dragon in all of Heaven and Earth!

Dad said that on the day I hatched, the sky above the Atlantic shone, the sea surged, and every creature in the water was bathed in light—a sign of great fortune.

He used to tell the story over and over. His eyes would light up, voice full of pride. Sometimes I think he loved telling it more than I liked hearing it.

The old man would get so worked up, his beard floating and his eyes glowing, describing the glorious scene at my birth.

But that’s not the point!

The wedding carriage set out from the South Carolina coast at noon, passed countless magical mountains and caves, and only arrived in Heaven at dusk.

Now, I’m absolutely starving!

My stomach rumbled, and I pressed a hand to it, praying nobody outside could hear. The smell of roast duck drifting in from the banquet hall was absolute torture.

Though I’m a famed beauty, I’m even more famous as the biggest foodie in all the Realms.

Ask me which celestial lord is the most handsome, or which fairy maiden is the prettiest—sorry, I’ve got no clue.