Few knew the full story. Years ago, the previous Emperor and his brother—joking over wine—had laughed about betrothing their children when grown. Duke Robbinston, ever loyal, took it as gospel. The Emperor, amused and unwilling to disappoint his old friend (and eager to tweak Commissioner Moore's nose), let the "engagement" stand as a jest.
But Ashton—Prince Ashton Ravencourt, adopted son of the Emperor's brother—wasn't exiled. He 'ran'. He and young Celeste had sworn a childish pact: whichever became Emperor first, the other would flee the kingdom upon adulthood. Celeste won the crown; Ashton "exiled" himself.
In truth? He'd been living free, adventuring across the realms while she ruled.
Now, returned as the Crimson Hunt's champion, the "fiancé" sat beside her—right where tradition demanded.
SerapHeena collapsed into her seat, pale as death. The hall erupted in stunned whispers. The consorts stared at Ashton—'fiancé?'
