Livia’s face appeared in my mind — not as I had found her in the changing room, but as she’d looked during our training sessions. Focused. Determined. There was a mystery about her that intrigued me, gaps in her knowledge that shouldn’t exist in someone of noble birth, counterbalanced by skills that seemed out of place for a lady of her standing.
And then there had been that moment when our eyes met after I’d intervened with Varin. Something had passed between us — recognition, perhaps. As if we both understood what it meant to wear masks.
Would she look at me differently if she knew who I truly was? Would the easy camaraderie we’d begun to develop evaporate once my title stood between us?
“Well?” my father prompted, interrupting my thoughts. “Do we have an agreement?”
I set down the glass. “Varin doesn’t just get reassigned or quietly removed. He faces real consequences. Public ones.”
“Agreed.”
“And his family’s political standing remains untouched.” This surprised even me, but I felt compelled to add it. “They shouldn’t suffer for his crimes.”
My father studied me curiously. “Compassion for your enemies’ families. Interesting.” He nodded slowly. “Very well. Varin alone will bear the consequences of his actions. I want to watch how his father deals with the lack of an heir, see if it… dissuades his own posturing he believes he’s kept secret.”
“Then we have a deal.” I rose from my chair. “I’ll reveal my identity at graduation and assume my official duties.”
“Excellent.” My father stood as well, extending his hand across the desk. “Perhaps you’ve finally begun to understand what leadership truly requires, my son.”
I clasped his offered hand, feeling the cold, firm grip that had directed the fate of millions. “Perhaps I’ve begun to understand that influence is a tool, Father. One that can either build or destroy.”
Something like respect flickered in his eyes before he released my hand. “Find out more about this Lady Cantius,” he said, returning to his seat. “Anyone who can best a Mallistus in combat might prove a valuable ally.”
I ignored the suggestion, turning toward the door. “I’ll return to the academy tonight. I trust you’ll handle Varin’s situation promptly.”
“It will be addressed tomorrow,” he assured me. “Though I’m curious — what would you have done had I refused your request?”
I paused with my hand on the door handle. “I would have found another way to ensure justice was served.”
“Even if it meant defying your Emperor?”
I looked back at him, allowing a rare moment of complete honesty between us. “Especially then.”
Rather than anger, a smile spread across my father’s face — not the political mask he wore for courtiers, but something genuine and slightly unsettling. “Good. That’s precisely what I needed to hear.”
I left the Emperor’s chambers with a hollow victory churning in my gut. The corridor stretched before me, Imperial Guards standing at attention every few paces, their expressions carefully neutral. They’d heard nothing of our conversation — my father’s chambers were enchanted against eavesdropping — but they knew who I was. The Scholar Prince, returned from his self-imposed exile.
By tomorrow, Varin would face justice. But at what cost? Six more months of freedom before the golden cage of royal duty claimed me forever.
The night air hit my face as I stepped onto the palace’s western terrace. The moons hung low in the sky — Solis bright and full, Umbra a dark crescent beside it. Far below, the capital city sprawled in concentric rings, lamplight glittering like fallen stars.
“Prince Jalend.”
I turned to find Legate Santius approaching, his weathered face grim in the moonlight. My father’s most trusted general, the man who had taught me swordplay since I was old enough to hold a blade.
“Legatus,” I acknowledged with a nod. “I didn’t expect to see you here at this late hour.”
“I’m here to brief your father on developments on our northern borders, and I prefer to do it where there are less observers around.”
“The Talfen again?” I asked, moving to the balustrade. I studied his face, noting the new lines etching his weathered features. “They’re getting bolder.”
“Worse than bold,” Santius said, joining me at the railing. “They’re organized. Coordinated. Villages are being abandoned, and even towns deeper in our territory are under threat.” He ran a hand through his greying hair. “This isn’t just raiding anymore. It has the pattern of something... deliberate.”
“Casualties?” I asked.
“Mounting daily. Villages are being abandoned. Refugees are flooding into the larger towns, but even those aren’t safe anymore.” Santius ran a hand over his scarred face. “Last month, they hit Veredus. A hundred and forty-three dead, twice that wounded, half the town burned to the ground.”
“Veredus?” I couldn’t hide my shock. “That’s nearly sixty miles from the border.”
