He woke to a scent that was oddly familiar. The bed beneath him felt the same--though he couldn't tell if it truly was his.
"Muzio, are you awake?"
He turned his head. The world moved in slow motion.
"Good."
Keiser blinked--or thought he did--only for darkness to swell over his vision before fading again.
"Though it's… concerning you came back," the voice went on, calm and measured. "But I suppose it makes sense, considering what you wanted to happen. You've realized it by now… haven't you?"
His gaze sharpened. A figure sat at the window, book in hand. Dark purple hair caught the backlight, strands shifting in the breeze like streaks of night lit smoke. But the murky eyes that met his--those held no light at all. Eyes that dredged up memories he'd tried to bury.
"Think you can escape me?"
Gideon.
He smiled--kind, charming--the sort of smile that invited trust, that made people lower their guard. Yet beneath it lay a cold, deliberate cruelty. His tone stayed warm, almost friendly, but every word carried a weight that pressed against Keiser's chest.
"I won't let you ruin everything again. Not this time."
The book snapped shut. In two unhurried steps, Gideon was beside the bed. His hand came down over the eyes. Darkness returned.
A faint warmth bloomed... then flared into a searing blaze.
Keiser felt it in every nerve, a crawling, writhing sensation, as if living maggots burrowed beneath his flesh. He had seen that same infestation before, squirming through the bodies of men and beasts alike. It slithered, shifting as though carving their runes deep into his skin and bone.
***
"Gideon, you son of a bitch."
The words tore out of Keiser's throat like they were dragged through grit and glass, not loud but edged, his teeth clenched so hard the sound of it startled someone nearby into a sharp gasp.
He pried his eyes open. Vision swam--dark shapes bleeding into dim light that wasn't strong enough to illuminate, just strong enough to make the shadows deeper. His pupils fought it, unsure if they wanted to adjust or give up entirely.
"…Muzio? Ar---ou--kay?"
Keiser frowned, confused, as he found himself upright, back braced against something solid. There was a hard bump digging into his tailbone-- something that felt like a personal vendetta from the ground itself. Damp grass and the sour tang of mildew clung to the air.
His eyes burned, his head throbbed, and when he lifted a hand to rub his temples, white-hot pain shot through his palm. His neck giving a stabbing protest as if halfway to snapping. Heat and cold washed over him in turns, every muscle twitching between locking tight and going limp. His body couldn't decide if it wanted to seize up or fall apart completely.
It was the kind of exhaustion he'd only known once before--fighting for weeks straight on the border during the surge.
Resting only long enough to flick blood from his blade--just a breath--before the next wave of beasts came barreling out of Sheol.
A tug at his hand made him glare toward the source, his neck cracking in protest.
"--zio! Goodness, you've been asleep since this afternoon--it's almost midnight."
The words took a moment to sink in. Then they hit.
Ah, right.
He wasn't on the battlefield anymore.
He hadn't passed out after weeks of cutting down endless horrors.
He was Muzio now. The tenth prince. The missing prince no one bothered looking for.
And Gideon--that bastard.
The memory from earlier flashed back to him--that strange dream, the kind that crept up like the children's stories about the boogeyman who came for you if you were awake too late at night.
Except this hadn't been a story.
And now, apparently, the boogeyman was Muzio's half brother. Now his half brother.
The King had always kept a harem--handpicked women from noble houses and common stock alike--and from each, he insisted on a single child, no more. One heir per mother. A political safeguard to keep any woman from consolidating too much influence at court. Muzio had been one of those children.
He grimaced. The thought alone was almost worse than the pain burning through his chest and back. He shoved the pain aside and forced himself to think of the dream--or the nightmare--that had clung to him. Too vivid to be nothing. Too familiar in its heat and pain to be a fabrication.
Gideon.
Keiser's jaw tightened until it ached.
He was almost certain now.
Gideon had something to do with what happened to the tenth prince.
Maybe even orchestrated the death himself.
But why? Muzio had barely entered the playing field.
Keiser had been there when all of the King's children--except the Muzio and the others that weren't eighteen yet--took part in the Gambit. Muzio had never made a formal claim. Probably, couldn't at all.
Keiser understood enough politics--betrayals included--to know Gideon wouldn't waste a pawn without first weighing its value. He was too calculating for that.
The tenth prince had been only eighteen when he was declared dead. A boy, really. But still a prince. Young, noble, and--if Keiser's new scraps of information were right--curious about the King's Gambit.
Was that enough to make him a threat?
Had mere interest painted a target on his back?
Had he spoken too loudly? Drawn Gideon's attention at the wrong moment?
Keiser's gaze slid to Lenko. Another boy declared dead.
In Keiser's true future--true past--both Muzio and Lenko had been silenced before they could become anything more than names etched on a memorial list. But now… Lenko was still here, kicking.
Would history change this time?
Had Keiser been dragged back to make sure it did?
Another thought coiled in his mind, cold and barbed.
What if Muzio had never been as useless as the court painted him?
The boy's magic could blow a Corvus away with nothing but a stick. His mana was still thick around him, strong enough to shape sigils, weave mana, and make runes come alive. Was that Muzio's magic all along--or just Keiser's will driving it into battle instead of hiding behind it?
Lenko's words echoed--how Muzio had run from court, avoided returning. Maybe not from weakness. Maybe… from knowing something. Or fearing someone.
Keiser's eyes narrowed. He could no longer afford to just assume anything about Muzio, Gideon, or the Gambit. If Gideon had gone through the trouble of removing a bastard son of the King before the trials even began…
It meant Muzio had value enough to kill for.
A sudden grab jolted Keiser from his thoughts. Lenko was holding his bandaged hand. The cloth was clean and fresh when he woke up. Lenko must have dressed it while Keiser was unconscious. But now, that he's awake.
"Look at this--why are you clenching your hand like that? Now it's bleeding again. Your wound won't heal like this!" Lenko muttered, pulling jars and folded cloth from his bag. "My gods… your head sickness must be getting worse! You're cursing people now! Even--" his voice cracked, "even fighting a beast!"
His tone should have grated--too concerned, too shaky, hands trembling as he worked--but instead… it eased something in Keiser. Against all reason, it soothed him.
Now that he could see without the haze of pain--a haze this body had no tolerance for, even if Keiser's mind could push through--he noticed something else. Muzio's body was used to Lenko's presence. Maybe even found comfort in it.
They were still in the forest. He didn't know why they'd chosen to remain in such a dangerous place, much less make camp here. The only light came from the moon and stars, enough to show him how vast the forest stretched. The fire in the clearing sent the surrounding shadows crawling, larger and darker.
And yet… Keiser felt calmer here than in the little cabin back at Muzio's hidden farmhouse. This, at least, reminded him of life before the betrayal--when his faction had given him a place in the world, when nights between the war in the borders could hold a fleeting, fragile peace.
Lenko fussed over him, muttering half-scoldings about cursing Muzio's older brother. His hands trembled but were careful, earnest. The real wounds, of course, ran far deeper than burnt raw welts and bleeding.
Keiser closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to admit it, but a thought surfaced all the same.
Was Muzio still in here somewhere?
Watching quietly behind his eyes?
A sharp jab of pain broke the thought. He'd shifted wrong, and the rock dug deeper into his tailbone. He groaned, and a voice answered, dry and amused.
"You really don't shut up, do you?"
The princess of Hinode stepped out from behind the tree he'd been leaning against, moving without so much as a rustle of leaves or a crunch of twigs. She cleaned one of her short blades with a cloth.
Keiser barely heard Lenko's indignant noise beside him--something about her rudeness and where she thought she could wander. Keiser just sighed, flexing his freshly bandaged hand, the cool balm soaking into the skin.
The princess passed them without breaking stride, tossing the dirty cloth into the fire. "I told you I was hunting the beasts around us. None will get near to tear you apart, guzzle your blood or string your intestines like ropes." She leaned against a tree, wrapped her cloak around herself, and closed her eyes.
Lenko sputtered, glancing nervously around as if trying to decide whether her words made the clearing safer--or far more dangerous.
Keiser narrowed his eyes.
She was resting, but her guard was still high.
He knew her reputation as the First Prince' closest ally, but he hadn't expected her skill to be this sharp before the Gambit even began.
In the trials, every contender had to improve daily or be swallowed whole by the game. Yet here she was, months early, as dangerous as he remembered her in the future he knew.
Their eyes met.
And he knew that look.
The glint of a predator measuring its prey.