The kingdom celebrated his return.
The palace feared it.
Trumpets echoed across the capital as royal banners unfurled from every tower. Crowds filled the streets, cheering loudly as the black carriage rolled through the palace gates.
Prince Adrian had come home.
Inside the carriage, he did not look out the window.
He never did.
Celebration meant nothing to a man who trusted no one.
"Your Highness, the council awaits your presence."
Adrian stepped from the carriage without answering.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed entirely in black, as if color itself had offended him. His dark hair fell carelessly across sharp eyes that rarely softened.
The palace servants lowered their gazes as he passed.
No one spoke unless spoken to.
No one smiled.
No one breathed too loudly.
Fear followed him like a shadow.
And Adrian preferred it that way.
The council chamber doors opened.
The king stood at the far end of the room.
"My son."
Adrian bowed once—formal, precise, distant.
"Father."
The king studied him quietly.
"You've grown colder."
Adrian's expression did not change.
"The border wars required it."
Silence stretched between them.
Politics. Strategy. Reports. Numbers. Names.
The meeting continued for hours, but Adrian's attention wandered the moment the subject shifted to the upcoming festival.
"The kingdom is eager to celebrate your return," a council member said carefully. "Many noble families will attend."
Adrian already knew what they meant.
Marriage.
Alliance.
Control.
Every conversation in the palace eventually led to the same topic.
His future bride.
"I will not choose a wife based on a parade," Adrian said flatly.
The council exchanged nervous glances.
The king sighed.
"You cannot avoid this forever."
Adrian's gaze turned cold.
"Watch me."
Later, Adrian escaped to the palace balcony overlooking the city.
Night had fallen, and lanterns glowed like stars across the streets.
He rested his hands on the stone railing, letting the cool air quiet the noise in his head.
War had been simple.
Enemies were honest.
They wanted you dead.
The palace was different.
Smiles hid knives.
Compliments hid traps.
Love hid ambition.
He had learned that lesson young.
Too young.
A faint memory flickered in his mind.
A girl's laughter.
Soft.
Bright.
Gone.
Adrian shut his eyes.
Memories were useless.
Weakness was dangerous.
He had buried both long ago.
Footsteps approached cautiously.
"Your Highness."
Adrian did not turn.
"Speak."
"Tomorrow's festival route has been prepared. Security is in place."
"Good."
The guard hesitated.
"There is… one more matter."
Adrian finally turned, irritation flashing across his face.
"Well?"
"The outer districts requested permission to host part of the celebration."
Adrian frowned.
The outer districts were poor. Crowded. Forgotten.
He had not visited them since childhood.
"Approved," he said after a moment.
The guard blinked in surprise.
"Yes, Your Highness."
As the guard left, Adrian returned his gaze to the city.
Something stirred in his chest.
A strange, unfamiliar feeling he could not name.
Adrian left the balcony only when the palace began to quiet.
Night inside the palace was different from night in the city. Outside, people laughed, drank, and sang beneath lantern light. Inside, the halls felt colder, quieter—like the building itself was holding secrets in its walls.
His boots echoed softly against marble floors as he walked toward the royal training grounds.
The guards stationed there straightened immediately.
"Your Highness."
Adrian ignored them and stepped onto the sand-covered arena.
A sword lay waiting on the rack, polished and sharp. He picked it up without ceremony and began to move.
Strike. Turn. Step. Strike again.
The rhythm came naturally. Steel cut through air with a sharp hiss that echoed in the empty courtyard.
Fighting was simple.
Predictable.
Honest.
Unlike people.
Sweat gathered at his temples as he practiced until his arms burned and his breathing grew heavy. Only then did he lower the blade.
"You train like a man who expects war."
Adrian didn't need to turn to know who spoke.
His father stepped from the shadows.
"I expect betrayal," Adrian replied calmly.
The king studied him for a long moment.
"You cannot live your entire life waiting for enemies."
Adrian wiped sweat from his brow, expression unreadable.
"I learned from the best."
The king flinched slightly at the implication.
"I did what was necessary for the kingdom."
Adrian sheathed the sword slowly.
"And I am doing the same."
Silence stretched between them, thick with years of unspoken resentment.
"You were not always like this," the king said quietly.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Yes," he said. "I was."
He remembered warmth once. Trust. Innocence. But those memories belonged to a boy who had learned too late that crowns demanded sacrifices.
The king sighed heavily.
"The festival is not just celebration. It is opportunity. The nobles will expect you to show interest in potential brides."
Adrian's gaze hardened.
"I have no interest in women who see a crown before they see a man."
"They see the future king," the king corrected.
"That is the problem," Adrian replied.
He dismissed the guards and returned to his chambers alone.
Servants had already prepared everything—fresh clothes, warm bath, a table of untouched food. A life of luxury that felt strangely hollow.
Adrian removed his gloves slowly and stared at his reflection in the tall mirror.
The kingdom called him cruel.
Cold.
Untouchable.
Maybe they were right.
Because he could not remember the last time he had looked at someone and felt anything other than suspicion.
He turned away from the mirror.
"Love," he muttered quietly, as if testing the word. "A foolish distraction."
Yet somewhere deep in his chest, something restless stirred.
Tomorrow, the festival would bring him face to face with the kingdom he ruled.
Tomorrow, fate would begin moving pieces he did not even know existed.
And for the first time in years, the future would surprise him.
Tomorrow, he would walk among the people again.
Tomorrow, the festival would begin.
Tomorrow, he would meet a girl who would destroy every wall he had built around his heart.
He just didn't know it yet.