CHAPTER 9: GRAND ENTRÉE

The courtyard had fallen into a deathly silence. Not a single word was spoken; the only sound was the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle afternoon breeze.

Students, mages, guards, and onlookers stood frozen in shock, their minds struggling to process the brutal event that had just unfolded.

Nobody had expected such a drastic action—and least of all that it would come from the fourth prince. They simply could not believe their eyes.

Aric, noticing the tension, broke the silence in a calm, almost casual tone.

"Well then, if no one has anything else to show, you may all tour the courtyard before being on your way."

His demeanor was blatantly detached, as though the executions had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his day.

At his words, the students and supervisors began to disperse cautiously, keeping a wide berth around him.

"You—come." Aric gestured to Lerai.

The boy, still shaken, obeyed without hesitation. His fear was obvious as he stepped forward.

"Y-yes, your highness," Lerai stammered, voice trembling.

Will he kill me as well, just because my crossbow was what made them laugh? he thought, praying silently to the gods that his life would not end here.

"You are quite smart. Smarter than most realize," Aric said.

A small smile crept onto Lerai’s face.

"Thank you, your highness. The others don’t think so, though," he muttered, the sadness behind his words dulling his smile.

"Don’t worry. It’s human nature. Most never see the bigger picture until it’s drawn in blood." Aric’s voice had taken on a dark edge.

"I don’t think I understand, your highness," Lerai mumbled.

"You don’t—but you will. And when you do, remember this moment, and that I believed in you." Aric smiled warmly, handing him back the crossbow.

Lerai’s face lit up, disbelief washing over him. This was the same prince who had just executed two men for laughing?

"Thank you, your highness. Your words mean a lot."

Aric nodded as the boy turned away, clutching the crossbow tightly as he went to rejoin the other students.

The prince’s gaze shifted left. There, Serina sat plucking flower after flower, her grey eyes fixed on him. She looked about his age, her black hair cascading down her back in soft waves.

Aric raised a hand, beckoning her.

She walked toward him with graceful poise.

"Good day, miss," Aric greeted.

"Your highness." She inclined her head politely.

"I assume you have something to say to me." He reclined casually in his chair.

"And what made you assume that?" Serina asked.

"Well, I doubt you were staring into my soul while murdering my flowers purely for entertainment," Aric said dryly.

Serina let out a wry huff, glancing away.

"Would you attend this evening’s banquet?" she asked.

"It’s likely," Aric replied.

"That’s odd. I was told you are rarely seen at public gatherings."

Aric shrugged. "True. But I’ve given them plenty to talk about tonight. And believe it or not, I do enjoy hearing my own gossip."

"Is that so?" Serina tilted her head, amused.

"Yes. The severed head beside me might have given it away, but I am quite the narcissist."

She chuckled softly. "No, not a narcissist. But you are dangerous. Those eyes aren’t the eyes of a sheltered prince, but of..."

"...a seasoned killer," Aric finished for her.

"What happened to you, your highness?" Her tone was laced with genuine curiosity.

"I could ask you the same, Serina." He held her gaze, staring into the dead grey of her eyes, and wondered how many lives they concealed.

"I have an offer you might be interested in," she said at last. "Will I be able to meet you at the banquet to present it?"

"Perhaps."

She nodded, her gaze flicking briefly to the severed head propped on the table, before she turned and walked away.

One by one, the mages began leaving the garden, exiting the prince’s estate for the others. Aric leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

His thoughts lingered on Serina. In his last life, all he had known of her came from rumors. But standing before her now, he sensed something darker beneath.

— — —

Night fell. The sun had long retreated, and the moon now reigned, its silver glow spilling across every corner of the empire.

The imperial city stirred with life as it always did, but tonight was different. Tonight was the annual banquet hosted by the emperor himself. A rare chance for the chosen to witness the supreme ruler—and an even rarer chance for a select few to converse with him, while mingling among the most powerful figures of the empire.

The princes were usually required to attend from a young age. But Aric had always been too sick, too forgotten to be seen in public.

Until tonight.

A carriage rolled to a stop before the palace gates, deliberately late.

From it stepped Aric. A silver staff in hand, a dark coat draped over his royal attire. He usually preferred simple clothes, but tonight was different.

He crossed the entryway and entered the grand hall. Normally, his presence might have gone unnoticed—but he was still royalty, and protocol demanded that his arrival be announced.

The palace guard at the banquet room entrance slammed the end of his sword against the marble floor. The sharp echo silenced the hall.

"In attendance—His Royal Highness, the Fourth Prince: Aric Valerian."

Every head turned. Every eye fixed on him as he strode into the room.