Sold To The Cruel Prince

Today, the trap would be set.

Theron had no intention of accusing the Chancellor of anything. He wouldn’t need to.

A guilty man rarely required an enemy to destroy him. Given enough fear, he would gladly do it himself.

As Theron entered the royal court, his cloak billowed behind him before settling neatly against his back.

His gaze swept across the chamber.

His father sat upon the throne, his mistress Ingrid occupying the seat at his side with practiced elegance. Alaric was nowhere to be seen.

Finally, Theron’s eyes settled upon the Chancellor. Lord Terravain looked exhausted. His posture remained impeccable, but the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed a sleepless night.

Theron smiled pleasantly. He even inclined his head in greeting. "Bad night, Chancellor?" he asked as he approached. "Couldn’t sleep?"

The Chancellor’s jaw tightened. He knew the prince was provoking him.

"I’ve heard our Chancellor is the very model of loyal service," Theron continued before the man could answer. "So devoted to the affairs of the realm that he scarcely finds time to sleep."

He stopped a respectful distance away.

"Tell me, Lord Terravain... that is true, is it not?"

Every noble in the chamber looked toward the Chancellor. He wanted nothing more than to glare.

Instead, he smiled. "If Your Highness considers diligence a rarity, then I regret I can only disappoint. I have merely fulfilled my duty."

Theron chuckled softly. "There is no need to diminish your efforts, Lord Terravain. I should hate for the court to overlook the lengths to which you go in service of the realm."

His dark eyes drifted toward the throne.

"I’m certain His Majesty shares that sentiment."

The Chancellor forced himself to maintain his composure. Yet the prince’s smile... It was the same smile he had worn when he warned him not to burn the warehouse.

The words echoed unpleasantly in his mind. His stomach tightened.

The warehouse had vanished. Not burned as he wanted to. It had vanished. His scouts were still combing every valley, forest, and mountain in search of it.

An entire underground warehouse could not simply disappear. Could it?

More importantly... What had the prince found inside?

The cotton had never been his greatest concern. It was everything else he had hidden there.

His fingers curled imperceptibly beneath his sleeves. He looked toward the nobles who usually stood with him. They would support him if necessary. The King’s favor still rested upon his family. He only needed to remain calm.

"State your business, Prince Vaelor," the King said.

Theron bowed. "During an inspection beyond the capital, my guards discovered an abandoned underground warehouse."

The Chancellor forgot to breathe.

Theron continued as though announcing nothing more remarkable than the weather. "Winter approaches. The people are in need of clothing. I ask Your Majesty’s permission to distribute the recovered cotton among the villages."

Silence swept through the court.

Several nobles exchanged uneasy glances.

No one spoke.

How could they?

To oppose the proposal would be to oppose feeding and clothing the kingdom’s people.

The Chancellor felt every eye in the chamber, though none were actually looking at him.

The King regarded his son quietly. Years upon the throne had taught him that battles were rarely fought with swords alone. He saw the unease spreading through the Chancellor’s allies. He saw the calculated calm in Theron’s posture.

Most of all... He saw that familiar gleam in his son’s eyes. Theron was setting something in motion. The King did not yet know what. But he intended to find out.

"Very well." The answer was deliberately simple. "You have my permission."

Theron inclined his head. "In that case, Your Majesty, I request the assistance of Lord Sylvarien."

At the edge of the assembly, Lord Hector Sylvarien nearly forgot how to breathe.

Me?

He had attended court fully intending to remain unnoticed.

The King’s gaze shifted toward him. "You have my leave."

There was no graceful avenue of escape. Suppressing a sigh, Hadrian stepped forward and bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."

A faint smile touched Theron’s lips.

This was no casual request.

For generations, House Sylvarien had refused to involve itself in factional politics.

If Theron intended to one day govern justly, he would need capable people whose loyalty could not be bought.

More importantly...

No family understood the kingdom’s trade routes, villages, warehouses, and merchant networks better than the Sylvariens. There was no one more qualified to oversee the cotton’s distribution.

And perhaps...

Theron’s smile deepened almost imperceptibly.

A father deserved to receive a little credit for the work his son had unknowingly helped accomplish.

Theron bowed once more before taking his leave. Just as he reached the great doors, Kael approached him.

The knight lowered his voice, quietly enough to appear discreet, and loudly enough for one particular noble to hear.

"Sire...I’ve located the records."

Theron merely nodded.

"Good."

Without another word, he continued walking.

Behind him... The Chancellor’s blood ran cold.

Records. What records?

His hands began to tremble beneath his robes.

No. He had to act before the prince did.

-----

Aveline headed straight for the laboratory.

The room was exactly as she remembered it—glass apparatus scattered across cluttered worktables, shelves packed with minerals and strange concoctions, and books piled so high they looked ready to collapse at the slightest breeze.

Only one thing was missing.

The old man.

She frowned.

Good.

She had been looking for him.

For days she had wanted to speak to him about the Arcanum—the girls forced into unequal contracts, the abuse of authority, the way those with power treated those beneath them as though they were tools instead of people.

If Lucien truly governed this place, then he needed to hear it. She was done waiting for him to wander into her path. If he insisted on hiding, she would simply drag him out.

Aveline marched toward the windows and flung open the heavy curtains one after another.

Sunlight poured into the laboratory, spilling through the stained-glass panes and painting the stone floor with rivers of sapphire, crimson, emerald, and gold.

"Old man!" she shouted, hands cupped around her mouth. "Stop hiding! I know you’re here!"

Silence.

She clicked her tongue.

"So that’s how we’re playing today..."

She reached for the latch on one of the windows. "If you won’t come out, I’ll let some fresh air—"

"Don’t!"

The shout came from somewhere beneath her feet.

Aveline froze.

She looked around.

The room was empty.

"...Under...?" she murmured.

She knelt, pressing a hand against the stone floor.

Before she could make sense of it, Lucien’s voice echoed upward again, strained with unusual urgency.

"The stability of the stones changes under direct sunlight!" he barked. "Open those windows, and you might level half the laboratory! Close the curtains! Leave the windows alone!"

Aveline rolled her eyes.

"I was looking for you," she shouted back. "I called. You ignored me."

"I was busy."

"You’ve been busy for days!"

A long, exaggerated sigh drifted up from below.

"Fine. Close everything first."

Still muttering under her breath, Aveline drew the curtains shut again, plunging the laboratory back into its familiar dimness. She secured the window latch before following the sound of his voice.

Near the center of the room, one of the flagstones had been pushed aside. A square opening yawned beneath it. Lucien’s head appeared from the darkness. His unruly white hair stuck out in every direction, and soot streaked one side of his face.

"There you are," Aveline said, folding her arms. "Hiding underground now?"

"I wasn’t hiding."

"You literally are."

"I was working."

He waved impatiently. "Come down."

She blinked. "Down there?"

Lucien nodded. "I think..."

For the first time since she’d met him, there wasn’t a trace of mischief in his eyes. "It’s time I showed you."

Curiosity replaced her annoyance. She stepped onto the narrow stone staircase descending beneath the laboratory. The air grew cooler with every step. The sounds of the Arcanum faded behind her until only silence remained.

At the bottom, the tunnel widened. Aveline stopped. Her blue eyes slowly widened.

"...What is this?"