The royal family's private dining chamber was nothing like the grand banquet halls of the palace. It was smaller, almost intimate, though the word intimate hardly suited the atmosphere that filled the room whenever the emperor's children gathered here.
A long table of blackwood stretched between the head seats, polished so perfectly that it reflected the light of the crystal lamps above. Only eight chairs were set, each with the gold sigil of House Valerius embroidered into the backrest.
Edran arrived early. Not too early — that would have been taken as eagerness, perhaps even desperation — but early enough to avoid being the last to enter. That position was a battlefield in itself.
The scent of spiced venison and roasted garlic filled the air, but Edran's attention wasn't on the food. It was on the doors.
The first to enter after him was Princess Seliora, his elder sister by three years. She wore deep emerald silk and a smile that was as sharp as any blade."You've been busy, little brother," she said, gliding into the seat beside him. "The academy is buzzing about you."
Edran inclined his head politely. "News travels quickly when it amuses people."
Seliora's smile deepened. "Or when it unsettles them."
He caught the glint in her eye — she'd already guessed the duel with Darius wasn't as simple as it looked. His sister played her own games, and she was dangerous because she preferred to act through others.
The door opened again, and Prince Kaelen, the eldest, strode in. Broad-shouldered, wearing a formal doublet embroidered in gold thread, Kaelen moved with the quiet confidence of a man who had never lost a duel in his life. His gaze passed over Edran without acknowledgment, as if the third prince were merely another servant in the room.
"Seliora," Kaelen greeted smoothly before taking the seat across from her. He didn't speak to Edran.
Then came Darius.
The fourth prince's expression was unreadable, but his eyes told the truth — cold, calculating, and still burning with humiliation. He sat directly opposite Edran, as if daring him to meet his gaze.
"Brother," Darius said, his voice low but edged.
Edran met his eyes calmly. "Brother."
Neither of them blinked first.
The queen entered next, her presence like a subtle winter frost. Queen Elara was not a loud woman; she didn't need to be. She had a way of making a room obey her without raising her voice, her beauty as ageless as her composure. Her gown shimmered faintly, as though woven from moonlight itself.
Her gaze swept the table, pausing briefly on Edran before moving on.
"Children," she said, her voice smooth, "I trust the academy is sharpening more than your swords."
"Yes, Mother," Seliora replied. The others murmured similar assent.
Finally, the emperor arrived.
Emperor Caelus Valerius was a man who commanded attention the moment he entered a room. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face carved in harsh lines — the face of a ruler forged in war. He wore no crown; he didn't need one.
He took his place at the head of the table, and the meal began.
Conversation was sparse at first, as servants poured wine and laid platters of food along the table. Edran kept his movements deliberate — never too slow, never too eager — as he filled his plate.
It was Kaelen who broke the silence."I hear," he said, slicing into his venison, "that our youngest brother has taken to dueling again. Publicly."
Darius's smirk was almost imperceptible.
The emperor didn't look up from his plate. "Is that so?"
Edran set down his fork. "Only a friendly match, Father. It was… educational."
Kaelen's gaze was heavy. "Educational for you, or for the one you faced?"
Seliora's smile returned. "From what I hear, perhaps both."
The queen's eyes lingered on Edran for a moment, measuring. "Do not mistake small victories for security," she said softly. "Attention is a double-edged sword, and you've just placed yourself in the path of it."
"I understand, Mother," Edran replied. He didn't flinch under her gaze. "But sometimes, a small display is necessary to remind the court I still exist."
Kaelen gave a short, humorless laugh. "If all you seek is to be remembered, then by all means — keep giving our enemies something to watch."
The emperor finally looked up, his eyes sharp. "Enough. The competition is in three days. You will represent this family with skill and discipline. That applies to all of you."
Darius's smirk widened. "Of course, Father."
The words were respectful. The tone was not.
As the meal wore on, the conversation shifted to other matters — trade routes, border disputes, diplomatic envoys. Edran listened more than he spoke. Knowledge was worth more than pride here. Every small detail was another weapon to store for later.
When the servants cleared the final course, the emperor rose first, then the queen. The others followed suit.
But as Edran turned to leave, the emperor's voice stopped him.
"Edran."
He turned back. "Yes, Father?"
The emperor studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You've been underestimated your whole life. That can be a curse… or a shield. Learn the difference."
Edran bowed. "I will."
When he finally left the dining chamber, the others had already gone ahead. Only Seliora lingered in the corridor.
She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper."Be careful in the competition, little brother. Darius will come for you, but not in the way you expect."
Edran met her gaze. "Then I'll be ready."
Seliora's smile returned — a real one this time, though still shadowed with danger."I hope so. I'd hate to see the only brother worth speaking to disappear."
That night, as Edran sat alone in his quarters, he thought about the emperor's words. A curse or a shield.
For now, he would let them keep underestimating him. But the shield would not stay passive forever.
Three days until the competition. Three days to sharpen both blade and mind.