“Greetings.”
A deep baritone voice called out from behind the hanging curtain. It was the kind of rich, effortless voice that could make almost any girl in the kingdom swoon on the spot—but the woman standing inside the room didn't even turn around. No one in the realm stood a chance against her.
“Get lost.”
She didn’t raise her voice, but the words carried total, unquestionable authority.
Varun knew better than anyone that leaving her alone was his only safe move right now. With a smooth flick of his wrist, he used a whisper of kinetic magic to close the heavy curtain behind him as he stepped outside into the courtyard.
“What did she say?” his friend Mantis asked, practically bouncing on his heels with brimming excitement.
Varun stayed completely calm, staring back at him with an unbothered expression.
“Varun... don’t tell me she refused to meet you?” Mantis teased, nudging his shoulder. “Dude, you are the Prince! She’s just a commoner!”
“She is my friend,” Varun replied quietly.
They both stood outside in the sun for an hour. Just as Mantis began shifting impatiently, Varun felt a sudden, familiar burn flare across the inner curve of his wrist. The crescent mark—his soul-bound link to her—pulsed with the comforting heat of the sun.
“See? She called me,” Varun said with a sudden smirk. Leaving a bewildered Mantis behind, he pulled back the curtain and stepped back into her quarters.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” Ananya’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
“Greetings. I thought we planned to head to the Western Hills today...”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I don’t think I’ll be able to accompany you,” she said curtly, not looking up from her desk.
“Oh, come on, Ananya! You can’t stay mad at me this long for such a trivial thing.”
“Trivial?!” Ananya snapped, her dark eyes flashing. “Is taking my family’s heirloom amulet into the open bazaar trivial to you?!”
Before he could answer, she snatched up a heavy wooden cane leaning against her desk and charged at him.
“I’m sorry!” Varun yelped, instantly turning on his heel and sprinting toward the courtyard.
“If anyone had caught you with my family’s signet, my entire house would be court-martialed for treason!” she shouted, hot on his heels.
“I can’t just roam around the city as the Crown Prince!” he called back over his shoulder, dodging a sharp swing.
“Then roam around as a dog, you idiot! I’ll kill you if you steal my amulet again!”
She caught up to him, landing a rapid series of merciless beatings across his back and arms.
Seeing the assault, Mantis panicked. With a sharp wave of his index finger, Mantis raised his hands to cast a defense spell and pull her off—but Varun caught his guard’s eye and flicked his own finger first. A subtle pulse of spatial magic locked Mantis right where he stood, freezing him in place. Varun chose to take the full beating himself rather than let anyone raise a hand against her.
“Sorry,” Varun repeated under his breath, repeating the word like a defensive spell as he winced.
After delivering a thorough thrashing, Ananya finally lowered the weapon. “Do this again, and I’ll kill you for real,” she threatened.
She turned and began walking back toward her house. As she walked, the heavy wooden cane in her hand shivered, shifting its form and contracting until it resized itself into a sleek metal pen, which she tucked casually into her breast pocket.
With another flick of his index finger, Varun released the spatial hold on Mantis.
“You could’ve used your magic on her and escaped the whole beatdown!” Mantis complained, rubbing his stiff joints.
Varun just smiled softly, his eyes following her path back into the house. He walked inside, with Mantis trailing behind him, still muttering under his breath.
Inside, Ananya had already set out three cups of steaming tea. Without a word about the beating, she unrolled a series of tactical military maps across the low wooden table in front of them.
“There is a massive amount of grain being smuggled out of the capital,” she said, her voice instantly switching to that of a trained strategist. She pointed a slender finger to a narrow, less-trodden mountain trail on the map. “Specifically along this route to the Western Hills.”
“According to our source, a major shipment is moving tonight,” she added.
“Should I inform the palace guards?” Mantis asked eagerly, leaning over the map.
“Do you remember what happened the last time we informed them?” Varun interjected smoothly, his playful tone completely gone. “There is an insider in the royal guard. Until we root them out, we can’t trust a single official unit.”
Mantis stared at them both in utter disbelief. “So... you just want the three of us to go stop them? Doesn’t that sound completely insane to you?”
“No. Not three,” a deep voice spoke up from the doorway.
Clark stepped into the room, unstrapping a heavy, metallic gear bag from his shoulder and setting it down onto the rear table with a heavy thud.
“Don’t you think it’s still highly unlikely?” Mantis whined, waving a hand toward the maps. “You want four of us against forty or fifty heavily armed smugglers?”
Ananya looked up from her maps, her eyes cold and sharp. “Mantis. You are the personal guard of the Crown Prince. Start speaking like one.”
“...Fine,” Mantis muttered, exhaling a heavy sigh.
“We meet at dusk by the old outer gate,” Varun said, standing up from the table. He motioned for Mantis to follow.
As Varun reached the wooden doorframe, a sudden, searing wave of heat flared across the crescent mark on his wrist. It wasn't the gentle pulse from earlier—it was a sharp, warning prickle that made his breath catch.
He stopped in his tracks and turned back.
Across the room, Ananya was standing by the table, her thumb pressed tightly against the hidden sun mark on her own wrist. Her dark eyes locked onto his from across the dim room, silent and unreadable.
She didn't say a word, but the message was clear. They both felt it.
Something was not right.
ns216.73.217.179da2
and then Add to home screen.