Eryndor's POV
The marble floors of the palace glistened beneath the morning sun, polished to such perfection that I could see my own reflection staring back at me. Pale face, tired eyes, and the faint curve of a polite smile that wasn't mine.
The smile of a mask.
Every step I took echoed through the gilded hall, but it wasn't my footsteps I noticed. It was the voices.
They thought themselves quiet. They thought the walls did not carry sound.
"Is that the Vale boy?"
"The sickly one who collapsed like a frail maiden?"
"Pathetic. His family clings to their title, but for what? That weak heir? He won't last a year."
A ripple of laughter. Soft, vicious.
My jaw tightened, but the smile on my lips never faltered. Names. I must remember names. In my last life, I'd brushed these words off, too wounded to care. But this time… this time, every insult was a thread, and I would weave them into the noose that would one day hang them.
"Still, fortune smiles on him," another voice murmured. "The Crown Prince himself visited his bedside. Imagine—such attention for one so… unremarkable."
I slowed, my eyes drifting toward the cluster of nobles pretending to admire a tapestry. Their jeweled fingers fluttered like restless birds as they whispered behind their fans.
And then—one name caught my ear.
"The heroes-in-training would never stoop to such company. That's why they're adored. Strong, righteous, untouchable. Unlike him."
The words stung like a lash. Not because they were lies, but because I knew the bitter truth. In a few years, those same "heroes" would be worshipped as saviors, cloaked in the love of the people. And in the end, their hands would be drenched in my blood. My lover's blood. My family's ashes.
I forced the bitterness back down, tasting iron at the edge of my tongue. Not this time. Not ever again.
"Lord Vale."
The voice cut through the whispers like steel. The nobles fell silent instantly, heads snapping down into stiff bows.
I turned.
And there he was—Leonel.
The Crown Prince walked the corridor with unhurried steps, but every stride commanded silence. His presence filled the air like a storm pressing against the skin. Even at thirteen, he carried the weight of a crown not yet his.
His gaze flicked briefly over the bowing nobles, then landed squarely on me.
"Walk with me."
It wasn't a request.
The whispers died entirely.
And my heart, despite everything I'd promised myself, skipped a beat.
The corridor stretched endlessly, its walls adorned with portraits of kings long dead. Yet I barely saw them. I felt the weight of eyes on my back—the nobles who dared not whisper while the Crown Prince was near, but whose thoughts were loud enough to hear anyway.
Why me? Why now?
Leonel walked at my side, hands clasped neatly behind him, his posture impossibly straight. He said nothing at first. Only silence, the kind that pressed against my ribs like a blade.
Finally, he spoke.
"They mock you."
I stiffened. "Your Highness—"
"Don't deny it." His tone was soft, almost casual, but it cut sharper than any insult I'd endured. "I heard them too. I always hear them."
I swallowed, lowering my gaze to the floor. "I've grown used to it."
His footsteps slowed. "That isn't something you should ever get used to."
The words startled me. Not for their meaning, but for the undercurrent in them—anger. Not at me, but at them.
I glanced up. His expression was calm, but his eyes… his eyes glowed with something fierce, something dangerous.
The nobles we passed lowered themselves into hurried bows. Some stared openly, curiosity burning in their gazes. The Crown Prince rarely paid attention to anyone, let alone me.
"Why defend me, Your Highness?" I asked quietly, unable to hold it back any longer.
He turned his head, his sharp profile lit by the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. "Because you don't deserve their scorn."
The simplicity of the words rattled me more than any elaborate speech could. He looked at me then, and for a heartbeat I swore I saw recognition again. Recognition, and something more.
"Besides," he added, his voice lower now, meant for my ears alone, "I don't like sharing what's mine."
My chest tightened painfully. What's his?
I forced myself to laugh, light and hollow. "Your Highness jests."
He didn't smile.
"Do I?"
The silence that followed was louder than any shout, and every step forward felt like a tether tightening between us—one I hadn't chosen, one I couldn't yet break.
We turned into one of the side corridors, narrower, less grand than the main hall. The air was cooler here, shadows pooling in the corners where the tall windows failed to reach.
That was when I heard them.
A group of young nobles, no older than I was, lingered near an archway. Their laughter carried easily down the corridor, careless, unguarded.
"…a disgrace, really. To think the Vale heir still parades around the court as though he belongs here."
"Pathetic. He couldn't stand three paces without fainting. What good is such weakness to the realm?"
"None. That's why the Crown Prince will eventually cast him aside. No matter how he plays at being merciful."
Their snickers twisted my stomach, but it was the next words that truly froze me.
"The heroes, though—they are everything. Strong, noble, righteous. They'll be the true protectors of this kingdom. I'd follow them over a thousand Vales."
The "heroes."
That word burned through me like acid. I remembered their faces—their shining smiles, their hollow oaths, the blood they spilled without regret. Heroes, they were called. Murderers, I knew them as.
My nails dug into my palms, sharp enough to break skin. In my past life, I had been too powerless to stop them. But this time—
The sound of steady footsteps cut through the air. The nobles turned pale as Leonel's figure came into view beside me.
The Crown Prince did not shout. He did not glare. He simply stopped, his eyes cool as winter frost, and looked at them.
The silence stretched until I thought the walls themselves would crack.
Then, softly, almost lazily, he spoke:
"If you have so much strength in your tongues, perhaps I should have them put to better use on the battlefield."
The color drained from their faces. They stammered, bowed too low, and scattered like frightened birds.
The corridor was silent again. Only the echo of their retreat remained.
I forced a breath into my lungs, my chest tight with a mix of fury and something else—confusion. Leonel hadn't just silenced them. He'd protected me. Again.
But why?
Slowly, his gaze slid back to me. His expression was calm, but his eyes… they pinned me in place, sharp and knowing.
"They'll never touch you while I'm here."
The words should have been comforting. Instead, they sent a shiver down my spine. Because his voice wasn't a promise—it was a warning.
The palace quieted with nightfall. The endless chatter of nobles faded to a distant murmur; footsteps became softer, more cautious. From my chamber window, I could see the moonlight spilling across the courtyards, silvering the marble and making the world look deceptively calm.
Deceptive.
That was the truth of this place. Behind the smiles, behind the jeweled words, lay nothing but rot. I had seen it before. I had died in it. And tonight, I felt it pressing closer again.
I sank into the chair by my desk, the candle flickering at my elbow. My mind replayed the whispers I'd overheard earlier—the way they spoke of me as though I were already forgotten, worthless, replaceable.
And then Leonel's voice, cool and sharp, slicing the air like a blade: They'll never touch you while I'm here.
A strange heat burned beneath my ribs at the memory. Was it gratitude? Unease? Perhaps both. I didn't know what Leonel wanted from me, but I did know one thing: his protection was a double-edged sword. One day, I would need to decide whether to accept it—or cut it down.
I closed my eyes, forcing my breath steady. No more hesitation. No more weakness.
In my past life, I had loved and lost, trusted and been betrayed. They had taken everything from me—my lover, my family, my very name.
But this time…
My hand curled into a fist, tight enough that the candle flame trembled with the force of my vow.
This time, I will not wait for them to come for me. This time, I will strike first.
Outside, the wind carried the faint toll of the midnight bell. Its echo sank into my chest like a seal upon my promise.
A knock suddenly broke the silence. Soft. Hesitant.
I froze, my heart tightening. At this hour?
Before I could speak, a low, familiar voice slipped through the door.
"Eryndor."
Leonel.
The sound of his name on his own lips chilled me far more than the night wind ever could.