CHAPTER 455: ’AS EXPECTED.’

’As expected, he was furious.’

Hendrix thought, a quiet, satisfied smirk playing on his lips as his boots echoed down the grand marble hallway of the Diamond Palace. His steps were slow, deliberate, almost taunting in their rhythm.

He had waited months—no, endured months—for this day.

Months of careful planning.

Months of silence.

And now that it had finally arrived, Heinz’s reaction had been exactly what Hendrix hoped for.

Volatile.

Furious.

"I fully expected him to try and kill me though," he muttered under his breath, letting out a dramatic sigh. His fingers absentmindedly brushed his coat sleeve, his thoughts drifting to the way Florian’s delicate hand had clutched Heinz’s arm—shaky, desperate, but undeniably deliberate.

He had seen through it instantly.

Florian had pretended to feel ill just to stop Heinz from attacking him.

And somehow, it worked.

That alone made Hendrix pause and wonder...

What was Heinz’s game?

But even through the smoldering contempt that resurfaced each time he thought of his half-brother, Hendrix could not ignore the way his heart had stirred the moment Florian entered the room.

’His beauty is incomparable.’

He smiled faintly to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. Even now, he could still feel the soft tremble of Florian’s body when Hendrix purposely brushed against him—how those wide, ethereal eyes blinked in recognition.

Yes. Florian remembered him.

And God, did Hendrix want to pull him close—then and there. To steal him away from the chaos and the palace walls and hide him where no one could hurt him.

But no.

Not yet.

Everything had to go according to plan. Every move had to be precise.

Especially now. Now that he knew Heinz couldn’t kill him—not without consequence—and would have no choice but to play along, at least for a little while.

Once his plan was complete... once everything fell into place—

Then, Florian would be his.

He was nearly lost in the thought when a timid voice pulled him back.

"Y-Your... Highness?"

Hendrix blinked, his expression smoothing over in an instant. He turned toward the sound, immediately recognizing the two figures standing further down the hall. A slow grin curled onto his face.

"Oh, well if it isn’t Lucius Darkthorn and Lancelot Flameheart." He folded his arms casually. "It’s rare to see you two together without my dear brother."

He came to a slow stop, standing directly in front of them. Their stunned expressions were practically priceless.

"How have you two been?"

Lucius and Lancelot exchanged a look—wary, confused, and guarded all at once.

"What are you doing here, Prince Hendrix?" Lucius asked cautiously, his brows furrowed. "You... shouldn’t be here."

"Shouldn’t I?" Hendrix tilted his head, voice calm but laced with authority. "I am the second prince of Concordia. If anything, I have more

right to be here than the two of you combined."

Both of them stiffened—Lucius blinked in surprise, but Lancelot’s hand was already reaching for his blade.

"You were still banished," Lancelot said sharply, his stance shifting as he drew his sword, the gleam of steel catching the light.

Hendrix didn’t flinch. In fact, he smiled wider.

"Lancelot, stop," Lucius warned, his hand shooting out to block him.

"What?" Lancelot snapped, eyes narrowing. "He’s trespa—"

"Why can’t I see your emotions?" Lucius interrupted, his gaze snapping back to Hendrix.

Hendrix didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His smirk said enough.

Lucius’s eyes darkened. "I... Only His Majesty has the ability to conceal his emotions. You... You’re not supposed to be able to use that kind of—"

"I have no time to answer your questions," Hendrix said, waving a hand dismissively. "Nor any interest in doing so."

He turned away from them, casually brushing past their tensed forms.

"I banished myself," he added, tone almost light. "And now I am unbanishing myself. Besides..."

He paused mid-step, just enough to glance back over his shoulder.

"I’ve already seen His Majesty. I’m sure you’ll want to find him now. He’s pretty pissed." He chuckled softly. "But then again, when isn’t he?"

"His Majesty—"

"Now, if you excuse me," Hendrix interrupted again, not even turning this time.

"I have to go visit my cousin’s room. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard from her."

And with that, he continued walking down the corridor—leaving the two men frozen in place, still trying to piece together what had just happened.

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty..."

Florian’s hand repeatedly tapped against Heinz’s arm, trying to get his attention. The king had been hovering over him, one hand pressed near Florian’s shoulder as he sat at the edge of their bed, his brows furrowed in concern.

"You don’t seem feverish, so is it your trauma? The memories?" Heinz asked quickly, scanning Florian’s face with intense focus.

"Your Majesty, please—" Florian tried again, a bit more firmly.

"Do I need to call for Lysander?" Heinz pressed, his voice tightening with worry. "Fuck. Cashew, go summon Lysander this—"

"HEINZ!"

Florian’s voice cut through the room like a whip. Loud and sharp.

Heinz froze, his words halting mid-command. Even Cashew’s eyes widened at the sudden outburst.

The sharp cry was enough to stir Azure from his peaceful sleep on the bed. The little blue dragon stirred groggily, ears perked in confusion, eyes half-open but alert as he lifted his head to blink toward Florian.

Heinz finally looked at him, stunned into silence. His crimson gaze was now softer, quieter. "...What?"

Florian took a breath, exhaling slowly as he raked a hand through his hair, trying to calm his rising frustration.

"Your Majesty," he began, more steadily now, "I lied about feeling sick to stop you from killing him. I don’t feel sick at all. And now, I want to talk."

He meant every word, and he said it with full intent.

Florian wasn’t expecting a dramatic reaction—Heinz rarely showed anger toward him anymore, and by now Florian understood it took a lot to make the king respond negatively to him.

But fate, as always, had an excellent sense of timing.

Because just as Florian relaxed slightly, thinking he’d said his piece—Heinz stepped forward and grabbed both of his forearms, holding him tightly. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was firm. Steady. His red eyes locked onto Florian’s with a look that stunned him.

Wide. Confused. Almost...hurt.

It made Florian’s heart skip.

’What the fuck?’

He watched in disbelief as Heinz bent down further, lowering himself to eye level. His brows knitted slightly, those glowing crimson eyes almost desperate as they searched Florian’s face for an answer.

"...Why would you protect him?"