The palace was quiet that morning.
Too quiet.
Not the usual bustle of servants or the echo of knights training in the courtyard. The air itself felt heavy, as if the walls were holding their breath—listening.
James walked through the hallway, his small shoes tapping softly against the polished marble floor. His blonde hair was slightly messy, and he still wore his formal robe from the night before. He hadn't slept. Not really. Not since his last conversation with Noah.
The words echoed in his head:
"I am the crown prince. I won't let this happen."
James's fingers curled into fists at his sides. He didn't hate Noah—he never could—but this jealousy, this fear in his voice… it was dangerous. Not just for Sebatien, but for the whole empire.
As he turned a corner, he almost ran into a servant. The man bowed quickly.
"Prince James, Lord Sebatien is waiting in the east wing garden."
James blinked. "Sebatien?"
"Yes, Your Highness. He asked not to be disturbed... except by you."
