Kael Thorne shoveled manure from the royal stables, sweat dripping down his dirt-stained face. The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones as he worked in silence, ignoring the whispered insults from passing servants.
"Look at him," sneered Marcus, a kitchen boy barely older than Kael's eighteen years. "Still playing in horse shit like the bastard he is."
"At least the horses appreciate him," laughed Sara, a maid with cruel eyes. "More than any woman ever will."
Kael kept working, his jaw clenched tight. These fools had no idea what blood flowed through his veins. They saw only what they wanted to see—a parentless stable boy with no future beyond cleaning stalls.
Heavy footsteps approached. Sir Roderick, the stable master, appeared with his usual scowl. His thick arms crossed over his barrel chest as he glared down at Kael.
"You're moving too slow, boy. Lord Garrett wants his horse ready within the hour."
"It'll be ready," Kael replied quietly, not looking up from his work.
"It better be. One more complaint from the nobles and you'll be sleeping in the streets." Roderick spat on the ground near Kael's feet. "Should've thrown you out years ago when they brought you here as a brat."
As Roderick stomped away, Kael's hands tightened around the shovel handle. Dark energy flickered briefly around his fingers before he forced it down. Not yet. The time wasn't right.
"Kael!" A sweet voice called from the stable entrance.
His heart lifted as his younger sister Mira ran toward him, her brown hair bouncing with each step. At fifteen, she worked as a seamstress in the castle's lower quarters, one of the few people who treated him with genuine kindness.
"I brought you bread," she said, producing a small loaf from her apron. "Cook wasn't looking."
"You shouldn't risk getting in trouble for me," Kael said, accepting the food gratefully.
"We only have each other. Who else will take care of my foolish brother?"
Before Kael could respond, loud voices echoed from the courtyard. Three young men strode into the stables, their fine clothes and arrogant bearing marking them as nobility. Leading them was Lord Garrett's son, Damien, a spoiled brat of twenty with too much gold and too little sense.
"There's our favorite stable boy," Damien announced, his friends chuckling behind him. "Hard at work as always."
Kael straightened slowly, positioning himself slightly in front of Mira. "Lord Damien. Your horse is nearly ready."
"Nearly?" Damien stepped closer, his breath reeking of wine despite the early hour. "I said one hour. It's been fifty-five minutes."
"Then you still have five minutes," Kael replied evenly.
The temperature in the stable seemed to drop. Damien's face flushed red with anger.
"Did this peasant just talk back to me?" He turned to his companions. "Did you hear that, Marcus? Thomas? This stable rat thinks he can mouth off to his betters."
Marcus, a thin noble with a weak chin, laughed nervously. "Maybe he needs to learn some manners, Damien."
"Maybe he does." Damien grabbed a riding crop from a nearby hook. "Kneel, stable boy. Apologize for your insolence."
"I have work to finish," Kael said, not moving.
"Kneel!" Damien raised the crop threateningly.
Mira stepped forward. "Please, my lord. He meant no disrespect—"
"Shut up, girl." Damien's eyes suddenly fixed on Mira with predatory interest. "Actually, you're quite pretty. Maybe you can make up for your brother's rudeness."
He reached out to grab Mira's arm. Kael moved faster than human reflexes should allow, catching Damien's wrist in an iron grip.
"Don't touch her."
For a moment, everyone froze. Damien's eyes widened as he felt the crushing strength in Kael's fingers. Dark energy crackled briefly along Kael's arm before he forced it back down.
"Let go of me, you freak!" Damien yanked his hand free, stumbling backward. "Guards! Guards!"
Heavy boots thundered into the stable as four castle guards rushed in, hands on their sword hilts.
"What's the problem here, Lord Damien?" asked Captain Morris, a grizzled veteran with suspicious eyes.
"This animal attacked me!" Damien pointed accusingly at Kael. "I want him flogged!"
Captain Morris looked between them. He had no love for spoiled nobles, but he also couldn't ignore a direct accusation.
"Is this true, boy?"
"I stopped him from assaulting my sister," Kael said calmly.
"He's lying!" Damien's voice cracked with outrage. "I barely spoke to the girl!"
"That's not what I saw," came a new voice from the stable entrance.
Everyone turned as Lady Elara Blackthorne entered, her midnight blue dress marking her as minor nobility. She was beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way, with intelligent dark eyes that missed nothing.
"Lady Elara," Captain Morris bowed slightly. "What did you see?"
"I saw Lord Damien attempt to grab this young woman inappropriately. The stable boy was defending his sister's honor." Her gaze shifted to Damien with obvious disdain. "Hardly the behavior expected of a lord."
Damien's face went white, then red. "You're taking the word of servants over mine?"
"I'm telling the truth. Something you seem allergic to." Elara stepped closer to Kael, studying him with curious eyes. "What's your name?"
"Kael Thorne, my lady."
"Thorne..." She frowned slightly, as if the name meant something to her. "Interesting."
"This isn't over," Damien snarled at Kael before storming out, his friends trailing behind him.
Captain Morris shook his head. "Stay out of trouble, boy. Lady Elara won't always be here to speak for you."
As the guards left, Elara lingered. "That was impressive. Most servants would have let it happen rather than risk punishment."
"Some things are worth the risk," Kael replied.
"Indeed they are." She studied him intently. "Tell me, Kael Thorne, where exactly did you come from? Your surname isn't common among the servant class."
Kael's blood chilled. The Thorne name was supposed to be forgotten, buried along with his family's legacy.
"I don't know, my lady. We were orphaned young."
"Hmm." Elara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, be careful. Lord Damien isn't the type to forget a slight. And his father has considerable influence."
She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Kael? Next time someone threatens your sister, you might want to better control that interesting energy you were channeling. Some of us know what to look for."
With that cryptic warning, she swept out of the stable, leaving Kael and Mira alone.
"What did she mean about energy?" Mira asked nervously.
"Nothing," Kael lied, his mind racing. If Lady Elara had noticed his power, who else might have? "Just noble nonsense."
But deep down, he knew his carefully maintained facade was beginning to crack. Soon, he might have no choice but to reveal who he really was.
And when that day came, everyone who had ever looked down on the "worthless stable boy" would learn what true power looked like.
The shadows around him seemed to deepen slightly, responding to his turbulent emotions. The blood of kings flowed in his veins, and it was growing harder to contain with each passing insult, each threat to those he loved.
Lord Damien wanted to play games? Fine. But he had no idea what kind of opponent he was truly facing.