For as long as Caelius could remember, there had never been a version of the second prince that could truly be called kind or gentle. Whatever warmth Cael displayed was always carefully measured like a blade wrapped in silk.
To many, the prince carried himself with effortless elegance, a noble whose calm composure and refined manners made him seem almost gracious but Caelius had long since learned better than to be fooled by appearances.
To him, Cael had always been a manipulative, calculating bastard.
Someone who could smile softly while tightening the snare around his victim's throat. There was a strange duality to the prince. He was gentle in tone, almost courteous in the way he spoke yet undeniably violent in nature beneath the surface.
The contradiction was unsettling, like watching a predator move with quiet grace before the moment of the kill.
