Carlos felt it before he heard it- the presence looming behind him.
The supervising panel sat mounted on their horses, a dark, unmoving line at his back. Leather creaked softly, reins held tight, hooves shifting against stone. Above all of it, Sir Hopkins's stare burned into him, unwavering, as if he could pin Carlos in place through sheer force of will.
And Carlos had just announced- clearly, shamelessly- before the entire town that he was going gambling.
The reaction was immediate.
A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd, heads turning, eyes darting between Carlos and the mounted figures behind him. Some looked amused, others scandalized, and a few openly disapproving.
Carlos didn't turn around.
He kept riding, spine straight, refusing to acknowledge the weight at his back. He knew how it sounded- reckless, irresponsible, almost mocking. The exact opposite of what a Prince under supervision was meant to be doing during the Trials.
But Ruel had a plan.
Carlos didn't.
