As the ritual hall doors closed, the families connected to the royal family began to mingle, their conversations laced with sarcasm and veiled insults.
"I'm surprised the crown prince deigned to attend the ritual," a duchess said, her voice dripping with disdain. "I heard that he found it unpleasant."
A nearby lord chuckled. ''He must try to follow the traditions to take the throne, or it would be passed to the next worthy candidate.''
''Did you see what he did to the first prince Viktor? It was unnerving.''
''This is the first time I am setting my eye on him. He's truly a striking figure of his mother. How terrifying.''
''Those eyes reminded me of Queen Lyrika. Even after her death, we still don't know who she is.''
''Seeing what he did to his first brother, we should question our stay if he becomes the emperor.''
The conversations continued, each one a delicate dance of wit and sarcasm, as the families jockeyed for position and influence.
Meanwhile, a group of younger nobles gathered near the refreshments, their voices hushed as they discussed the latest gossip.
"Did you hear about the crown prince's latest exploit?" one of them whispered. "I heard he went to the Luminaria Glade.''
Another noble snorted. "That's nothing. I heard he fell from the palace's top floor months ago and stood up like nothing happened."
''That's merely a grain before the rumors I heard from the merchants. Apparently, he visited the outcasts and even killed bandits for them.''
''Why will a Royal set his feet on the outskirts of the empire?''
Their laughter was cut short as a stern-looking matriarch approached, her eyes flashing with disapproval. "Children, remember to keep your voices down. We don't want to be seen as...unrefined."
The nobles nodded hastily, their smiles faltering as they returned to their conversations, careful to keep their tone and language in check. After all, in the world of the royal family, reputation and appearances were everything.
Lyra snorted loudly.
She was particularly pissed off about everything. First, there was a strange excitement to see her betrothed, only to get ignored.
'Or perhaps, he didn't notice me.'
Second was the gossip that had her chewing angrily on her gloves.
'Useless hypocrites! Hmph!'
''They are wary of the crown prince, a voice cut in from behind. Lyra spins around in recognition.
'Prince Lyonel betroth?'
''Greeting, Lady Ana,''
Ana chuckled softly, waving her hand. ''No need to be so formal between us. You have even a higher status than I here.''
Lyra's eye twitched.
'She's not wrong.'
''Don't say that, Lady Ana... If I'm not mistaken, you're betrothed to the fifth prince, right?''
Ana's gaze darkened at the sound of it, but she forced herself to fake a smile.
''Indeed, I'm betrothed to the fifth prince Lyonel,''
''Oh...I see,'' Lyra chuckled softly.
'Well, this is awkward.'
''Lady...Lyra, it seems you like the crown prince,''
Lyra was momentarily startled by her words.
''Ah?! Aa...well, yeah...,''
''You're wearing his necklace.''
Princess Lyra's hand flew to her neck at Ana's words. Truly, she wore the necklace the crown prince had given her, nights away, in the carriage. She has never taken it off since then.
''Is this necklace that special... I did hear that it belongs to his mother,''
''Of course,'' Ana kindly explained. Before Empress Lyrika died, she always wore it. It was a popular artifact, since it has no replica,''
''No replica?''
''No one knew who made it, or where it came from. She never said,'' Ana shrugged.
''Aah...''
Lyra continued to caress the jewel, a subconscious smile spreading on her face.
''But it seems to be missing a gem. Did the crown prince take it out?''
''A gem?'' Lyra murmured. Her fingers move to inspect the empty gem hole.
''Rumor says that if a gem is taken out. It will be a task to trace back the full set,''
She moved closer to gaze closely at it.
''And if the crown prince has the gem. You're within his reach, anytime.''
Lyra's cheeks warmed despite herself. The necklace at her throat felt suddenly heavier, as though Kaelin's presence lingered in its cold gems.
'So he might truly be watching me…'
For a moment, a rare flicker of happiness softened her usually sharp gaze.
'Perhaps he didn't ignore me after all.'
But before she could bask in the thought, a piercing cry split the evening air.
A child's wail.
High-pitched, shrill, and laden with terror.
The conversations outside faltered, then stopped altogether. Heads turned toward the ritual hall, faces blanching.
"That's—" someone whispered in horror.
''Was there a child in the ritual hall?'' Lyra mumbled, cradling up her gown to move closer.
''The last prince is four,'' Ana replied. ''But why will he cry?''
The doors rattled. Suddenly, with a desperate shove, they swung open. The second princess stood in the threshold, her breath ragged, her face pale.
Before she could recover, the first princess stumbled out behind her, clutching the tiny prince in her arms. The child's cries tore through the courtyard, his small body shaking violently, his eyes wide with unspeakable fear.
Gasps rippled among the nobles. They surged forward, questions rising like a tide, but not a single word managed to form before the air was split again.
This time not by a child's cry—
—but by the heavy crash of doors bursting open.
The nobles outside had barely drawn breath when the doors banged open again.
Aiden burst through, staggering under the weight of the Crown Prince slung across his back.
Kaelin's body was limp, blood soaking down Aiden's shoulder, the gash on his throat spilling crimson into his garments. His eyes fluttered half-shut, lips parted in a shallow breath.
"Out of the way!" Aiden barked, his voice raw with fury. "Move!"
The crowd split instantly, nobles stumbling back, pressing to the sides in fear and confusion. Whispers rose like a storm.
The Crown Prince… wounded?
Impossible!
Who would dare—
But no one dared finish the thought aloud.
Behind Aiden came the thunder of boots. The Emperor strode forth, his cloak snapping behind him, his eyes narrowed into a storm. The Empress followed, pale and composed, her hands clenched tight in her silken robes.
The princes and princesses trailed in hurried steps, their faces masks of fear and disbelief.
At the rear, dragging behind like a captured animal, was the High Priestess—her body beaten and unconscious. Her once immaculate robes were torn, her ceremonial crown cracked. First Prince Viktor held her by the hair, his jaw tight, fury blazing in his eyes as he hauled her across the stone.
Gasps erupted, nobles covering their mouths in horror. Some whispered prayers, others cursed under their breath.
''Did she do this to the crown prince?''
''That would explain the treatment.''
''This is terrifying.''
The Emperor did not speak. His silence was heavier than thunder, each step he took echoing like the toll of a bell.
Behind them, the imperial guards were hauling the rest of the wailing priestess along.
Aiden adjusted Kaelin on his back, blood streaking down his arm, and pushed forward toward the treatment hall.
"Hold on," he muttered under his breath, not sure if Kaelin could hear him. ''Just hold on, Kael.''
The royal procession moved swiftly through the courtyard, the air thick with fear and whispers. Behind them, the limp body of the High Priestess was dragged along the stones, leaving streaks of dust and blood in her wake.
No one dared stop them. No one dared speak.
For the first time in generations, the empire had witnessed blood within its sacred ritual hall.
And it was the blood of their heir.
TBC...