In the West palace
The room, once shrouded in darkness, was suddenly bathed in a warm, golden light as the curtains were drawn open. A ray of sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Roman's face and gently coaxing him awake. He slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"What's the meaning of this, Thomas?" Roman asked gruffly, his voice husky from disuse, as he gazed at his loyal servant, who had dared to disturb his slumber at such an ungodly hour.
Thomas, aware of his master's displeasure, bowed his head in apology. "Forgive me, my prince, but it's already past breakfast. I've brought you some light refreshments to sustain you throughout the morning." Roman swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his movements fluid and powerful. He reached for the document he had been busy with the night before, his eyes scanning the parchment with a mixture of frustration and determination.
Thomas watched his master with a discerning eye, noticing the signs of a restless night. "It seems you're having trouble sleeping again, my prince," he observed, his voice laced with concern.
Thomas had a unique ability to read Roman's moods, to sense when he was troubled or overworked, even when others might not notice. Roman's outward appearance belied his inner turmoil, a testament to his remarkable self-control.
Roman was, indeed, a man of striking presence. His piercing blue eyes sparkled like the ocean on a summer's day, and his dark hair framed his chiseled features perfectly. His sharp jawline and taut muscles seemed carved from granite, giving him an air of quiet power. The girls of Westfield swooned over him, drawn to his captivating aura and the air of mystery that surrounded him. Yet, despite his polished exterior, Roman exuded a sense of danger, a hint of darkness that made people tread carefully around him.
Roman settled into the plush couch in his bedroom, surrounded by the soft glow of candles and the faint scent of parchment. He began to review the documents, his eyes scanning the pages with a practiced intensity. Thomas, his loyal servant, sat opposite him, clearing the table of unnecessary parchments and organizing them with precision.
As the last parchment was safely stored away, Thomas cleared his throat to announce, "A letter from the keeper arrived yesterday, my prince."
Roman's gaze remained fixed on the document in his hand, his voice detached. "What's the nature of this letter?"
Thomas's expression remained neutral, accustomed to filtering the prince's correspondence. "The keeper requests your assistance in extracting someone from the west dungeon."
Roman's eyes finally lifted, his interest piqued. "I wasn't aware the keeper had acquaintances within the dungeon," he remarked, his brow furrowed in curiosity.
Thomas's demeanor remained composed, but a hint of caution crept into his voice. "The keeper didn't elaborate on the circumstances, but he did provide the name of the individual."
Thomas produced a small parchment from his pocket and handed it to Roman, who accepted it with an air of expectation. As Roman unfolded the parchment and read the name aloud, "Emily Neville," Thomas's heart skipped a beat. He struggled to maintain his composure, aware that his master's perceptive gaze had caught the flicker of emotion.
Roman's eyes lingered on Thomas, sensing that there was more to the story. "Do you know her?" he asked, his tone measured.
Thomas forced a calm demeanor, replying, "I'm not certain, my prince. I might have crossed paths with her once." Roman's scrutiny continued for a few moments before he nodded and said, "Given the keeper's wishes, I trust you'll find a way to help with her release."
Thomas bowed his head, relief washing over him as he replied, "With the west dungeon now under your comtrol, it shouldn't be a challenge to arrange her release." As Thomas stood up to attend to his duties, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. He had been keeping a secret about Emily Neville, the girl he had encountered during the duel a year ago. Her existence posed a potential threat to Roman, and Thomas was determined to keep them apart.
Getting her out won't be such of an hassle since his mster was already in charge of the west dungeon. Prince Roman had emerged victorious, and his popularity had soared. The west dungeon, once under Prince Edward's control, was now in Roman's hands. Thomas had been searching for a way to get Emily out of the dungeon without arousing Roman's suspicion, and the keeper's letter had presented an unexpected opportunity.
As Roman immersed himself in the documents, Thomas busied himself preparing his master's attire for the day. He knew that Roman's workload would only increase as the day progressed, and he wanted to ensure that his prince was properly prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
In another wing of the grand royal palace, Prince Edward had changed into his riding attire, the soft leather and fine fabrics a testament to his love for horseback riding. As he descended the stairs, he encountered his younger sister, Princess Natasha, who was being escorted by her personal maid. The maid, ever attentive, was the first to greet Edward with a slight curtsy, which he barely acknowledged with a nod.
Natasha, radiant in her morning gown, smiled warmly at her brother. "Good morning, brother," she said, her voice like music. Edward's response was gallant, as he took her hand and grazed it with a gentle kiss. "Good morning, Natasha," he said, releasing her hand.
Edward was about to continue on his way, but Natasha's sparkling eyes hinted that she had more to discuss. "It seems my two brothers planned to skip breakfast this morning," she observed, her brow furrowed in amusement. A small smirk danced on Edward's lips as he realized the young princess had indeed stopped to greet him for a reason.
"I don't know about Roman, but eating breakfast before riding isn't exactly healthy," Edward replied, his tone measured. Natasha nodded in agreement, her smile still playing on her lips. However, it was clear she wasn't ready to let him go just yet.
"Don't you think brother Roman has been quite busy lately, while you've been...free?" Natasha asked, her eyes glinting with mischief. Edward wasn't fooled by her innocent tone; he knew exactly what she was getting at. Her words were a subtle reminder of Roman's proximity to the throne, a prospect Edward was determined to prevent.
Edward's daily horse rides had become a habit, but he knew others perceived them as mere leisure. The truth was, riding had become a necessity, a way to avoid the pomp and circumstance of royal carriages, which would only hinder his current mission.
Aware of Natasha's playful nature and her desire to provoke a reaction, Edward smiled wryly and said, "Every man needs a good break, right?" Natasha's response was a soft "Yeah," and Edward patted her shoulder affectionately before taking his leave.
As Edward made his way to the stables where his horse awaited, his trusted guard, Sebastian, approached him with a bowed head. Sebastian held out a parchment, which Edward accepted with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. As he unfolded the document and began to read, his face darkened with anger, his eyes flashing with indignation.
The news contained within the parchment was infuriating, and Edward's anger boiled over, propelling him away from the stables and toward the parlor where he knew his father, the king, could be found. Without bothering to knock, Edward burst into the room, his anger and frustration evident in every step.
Inside the parlor, King Scott sat on a plush couch, surrounded by two concubines who were serving him tea. The moment they saw Edward, they stood up and discreetly exited the room, leaving the father and son alone. As the door closed behind them, Edward's anger erupted.
"What's the meaning of this, Father?" Edward demanded, slamming the parchment onto the nearby table. King Scott barely glanced at the document before he acknowledged it. "I assigned Roman the responsibility of overseeing the west dungeon," he said nonchalantly.
Edward's face turned red with rage. "I'm supposed to be in charge of the west dungeon. You gave it to him without even consulting me, and I find out through a bloody parchment?" Edward's voice thundered through the room.
King Scott's expression remained calm, but his voice took on a commanding tone. "Sit." Edward knew better than to disobey, and he took a seat, trying to compose himself.
The king began to explain, "You've not been impressive lately, Edward. I've been sending Roman into battles because I want to give you time to prove yourself as my heir. But it seems you're wasting that time." Edward's frustration was palpable as he tried to defend himself.
"I'm trying my best, Father. I'm close to securing an alliance with Lord Damien," Edward said, running his hands through his hair in frustration. King Scott's response was skeptical.
"You aren't putting in enough effort. Until you secure the alliances and prove yourself, Roman will remain in charge of the west dungeon." Edward stood up, his anger and disappointment evident.
As he turned to leave, King Scott's parting words stopped him. "You need to earn the right to be my heir, Edward. Don't disappoint me." Edward didn't wait another moment before striding out of the parlor.
As he opened the door, he met Sebastian, who was waiting anxiously. Edward barely acknowledged him before walking away, but Sebastian followed closely behind, eager to discuss the matter further.
"What about Emily Neville?" Sebastian asked, his voice low. Edward's footsteps halted, and he turned back, his mind racing with the implications.
He had almost forgotten about Emily in his anger, but now he remembered why controlling the west dungeon was crucial. If Roman was in charge, he wouldn't be able to release her. Edward's desire for her hadn't diminished, and he knew he had to be the one to free her.
Edward's grip on Sebastian's shoulder tightened. "Find a way to get her out of there," he whispered, his voice urgent. With that, he turned and headed toward his bedroom to change, calling out to Sebastian as he walked.
"Tell the butler to prepare the carriage." Edward's determination was clear, and he was willing to do whatever it took to secure the alliance and prove himself to his father. He is going to Southfield to convince Lord Damien to ally with Westfield.