|| 20th of Junil, 999 || Kainesborough, Edan ||

  “So, Haz,” Aiden begins, a wolfish grin splitting his face, “tell me something, because I’ve always wondered—do your stones shrivel up from wearing that hulking armor all day?” He leans forward, elbows perched on his knees despite the tight confines of the carriage. The others chuckle, quick to play along.

  Beside me, Haz stiffens, the faintest twitch in his jaw betraying the irritation he’s too disciplined to voice.

  A peaceful ride to the club, that’s all I wanted, but Aiden’s tongue is sharper than his wit, and he never knows when to fucking stop.

  Of course, Haz won’t bite. He never does. He’s too measured for that, too proud, but unfortunately his stoicism only fuels Aiden’s little game.

  But me? I’m not above sinking my teeth in.

  “Enough, Aiden,” I say, my tone casual but edged. “Leave him alone and worry about your own stones. Or is the lady Bellamy still keeping them in her purse?” the other lords laugh but I feel no sense of pride. it's the type of jab a teenager would find entertaining, which means it will definitely piss him off.

  “Yeah whatever. You're clearly just jealous that your wife won't have a shapeshifting Divinia. Besides, I'm just trying to have a bit of fun. What are you acting so serious for?” He responds with a forced smirk, already bouncing back from the minor blow to his ego.

  Annoying prick.

  “This is fun, you being a dickhead to my friend isn’t. So knock it off, Alright?”

  Aiden raises his hands in mock surrender, though his grin doesn’t falter. “Alright, alright. But I don’t know why you brought him in the first place. I mean...a Silver? What’s he supposed to do, stand around like some pervo, watching the rest of us?”

  Oh please, he knows none of the guard follows that chastity oath bullshit.

  “He’s my friend,” I snap, sharper now. “And since it’s my party, he’s here. Funny, I thought we already had this conversation?”

  “Right, sorry,” Aiden mutters, his voice as unconvincing as the forced smile on his face. He leans back but not before throwing a glance at Haz, the irritation in his gaze clear. “My apologies Hazeem, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings mate.”

  I’m seconds away from embarrassing him again when the carriage finally comes to a stop.

  Aiden’s mood shifts immediately, and he looks out the window eagerly before announcing, “Finally. We’re here, lads! Prepare yourselves. The night is young, and the ladies are many.”

  The doors of the carriage open and Aiden practically pounces out, followed by the other men. I hesitate for a moment, mentally bracing myself for the type of night that I’m no doubt in for before reluctantly stepping out as well. I gesture for Haz to get out next and he follows quietly after me. As we step out onto the cobblestone path that leads up to the building, I take in the scene before me.

  The Garden is an opulent three-story building with a balcony on the second and third floors. The outside is adorned with intricately carved stone statues and exotic colorful flowers, all against the pearl white bricks that make up its structure. I gaze up to see a redheaded woman leaning against the balcony railing a few floors up, her mouth immediately twisting into a predatory smile when she recognizes me.

  and so it begins.

  Aiden leads the pack and approaches the entrance, practically bouncing with excitement. A nearby security guard opens the door for us, a seedy grin on his face. “Enjoy your stay at The Garden. May you all find the Flowers you are looking for.”

  Inside, the air is thick with incense, the walls draped in silks dyed the colors of summer. The plush green carpet underfoot is meant to mimic grass, a convincing but expensive illusion. Ahead, a spiraling staircase winds upward, its banisters wrapped in thin twisting vines.

  Aiden, however, doesn’t pause to admire the décor. He simply pushes past the curtain into the main lounge, his confidence already bordering on arrogance.

  The main room is vast and opulent, dominated by a large white marble fountain at its center. The women perch on its edge like birds of paradise, their dresses half sheer and glistening in the lamplight. They watch us as we enter, their gazes lingering. A few seem to recognize me, their eyes lighting up with something between curiosity and calculation.

  Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’m a big deal.

  Don’t make it weird.

  Aiden throws himself onto a long couch, waving the rest of us over. I sit reluctantly, Haz settling into the armchair to my far left, silent as ever. It doesn’t take long for the women to approach, their movements slow and deliberate.

  One of them—a beauty with vibrant ginger curls and a smile that could fell any man—slides onto the couch beside me. She leans in close, her flowery perfume nearly overwhelming. “Well, hello there,” she purrs, her hand brushing against my arm. “You look like a man who could use some company tonight.”

  I manage a polite smile, but my heart isn’t in it. “Perhaps later,” I say, my tone clipped but not cruel.

  She blinks, her surprise well-hidden but there all the same. Undeterred, she leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. “Are you sure my Prince? A powerful man like you shouldn’t be alone tonight...”

  “And I won’t be. But for now...” I reply, inclining my head forward in a subtle dismissal.

  She hesitates, then rises with a grace that makes it clear she’s not accustomed to refusals. She dips into a shallow bow, all elegance, before turning and walking away towards the other side of the room.

  Aiden watches her retreat, then turns to me, his grin widening. “Not partaking, then?”

  “Not yet,” I reply tightly, reaching for a glass of wine from the table in front of us.

  He grabs one as well, taking a gulp that would put a sailor to shame. “You look like you need more than just some wine,” he says, and the others chuckle in agreement. “What’s the matter? Cold feet?”

  I force a smile, lifting the glass to my lips and taking a quick drink before finally answering, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll enjoy myself soon enough.”

  He snorts, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Loosen up, mate. Do a bit of Gardening.” He gestures around the room.

  I roll my eyes and glance away, desperate for some distraction from Aiden’s endless prattling.

  That’s when I see her.

  She sits by a window, bathed in moonlight, her dark skin glowing like polished obsidian. Her hair is in long black ropes, some adorned with golden beads. she's wearing an over the shoulder gown of pale green silk, the color practically singing against the warm depth of her skin.

  My god...

  How did I not notice her before?

  Aiden’s voice cuts through the moment, grating and unwelcome as ever. “Fuck, excellent choice. There aren’t many high class Cafrian whores these days, I hear they’re extra wild.” His gaze roams over her, his smirk more disgusting than usual.

  My fingers tighten reflexively around my glass, and I think very hard about how good it would feel to jam this delicate glass stem into his neck right now.

  No Sonny.

  Be good.

  Noticing my tense reaction, he grins innocently and claps a hand on my shoulder, again. “Don’t worry. She’s all yours. I’m more for redheads anyway.”

  “How very generous of you,” I say, my voice sharp with sarcasm.

  Like she can somehow sense us talking about her, the woman looks up then, her dark eyes finding mine across the room. For a heartbeat, the air thickens, the din of the room fading to nothing but us. Her gaze is steady, unflinching, but there is a flicker of surprise there, like I'm the last person she expected to be looking at right now.

  Aiden’s voice breaks the spell, yet again. “Come on. Hit that or I will, and I won't be gentle about it either.”

  I don’t think. The words come out before I can stop them, low and laced with the Influence. “Go away from me right now. And don't look at her again.”

  Aiden’s eyes suddenly glaze over, flashing silver for a moment before returning to their normal crystal blue. When he finally responds it's in a monotone voice, repeating my words back to me, “I’m going to go away from you now. I won't look at her again.” then he stumbles to his feet, lurching away without another word.

  The room doesn’t notice, too caught up in its revelry. But I do. It’s the first time I’ve used The Influence in a year, and now the bitter taste of it lingers on my tongue.

  Fucking hell. Leave it to Aiden to break my streak.

  I glance back at the spot by the window where the woman was sitting, only to find that it’s empty now.

  Great.

  Thanks Whitlock.

  I look back over at the rest of the group and see Haz with a woman practically straddling his lap. Normally, I would tease him about it, but right now I’m too distracted and frankly, irritated, to care.

  I stand up from the couch and walk over to where he is seated, leaning down just enough for him to hear me when I say, “Hey I’ll be right back, just going to step outside for a bit."

  He looks up at me, his face pure business despite the woman on his lap. “You sure you don’t need me to go with you?”

  My gaze shifts to the woman, a beauty with pale skin and dark raven waves. She’s trailing her lips along his neck now, unbothered by the exchange. Despite it all, Haz’s attention doesn’t waver.

  Poor Lad.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  We really need to get you a girlfriend.

  “Nah mate I’m good. You enjoy yourself, take a load off.” I immediately grimace at my choice of words.

  Haz chuckles faintly, but he doesn’t press. I turn and make my way toward the balcony doors, shoving them open with a little more force than necessary. The night air is cool and crisp against my skin, calming my overlapping thoughts for a brief moment.

  I step farther out, letting the noise of the party fade into the distance, grateful to have a moment alone. Leaning on the railing, I suck in a breath and let it out slow as I gaze out at the cityscape below. The street lanterns glow like stars, their golden light scattered across the winding cobblestones.

  From up here, it's all quite beautiful. But it does little to ease the growing heaviness in my chest.

  I'm getting married tomorrow and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.

  My chest feels tighter, tomorrow's worries already coiling themselves around my heart as the reality of my situation takes root.

  This is going to be it for me, just endless amounts of the same. The idea that I was ever going to change my father's mind feels almost laughable now.

  He won.

  He always fucking wins.

  I lean against the balcony a bit more, my gaze flicking down to the cobblestone street that's at least a good 20 feet below.

  If I fell, would they have to postpone the wedding?

  I close my eyes tightly in an attempt to clear away the destructive thought.

  No, you idiot. They'd send you down the aisle in a splint, so don't be stupid.

  When I open my eyes again, my gaze catches on the far away ruins at the edge of the city. Even from here the destruction is visible, several of the half-burnt buildings still standing tall even after all these years.

  The Rosewood district, once a thriving hub in the lower ward, now no more than ash, ruble, and ruin. Every year someone brings up the idea of remodeling the district and every year I pull whatever weight I have to make sure it stays the way it is.

  Yeah, it's a bit of an eyesore but, it existed. To pave it over just feels wrong. At least like this it stands as a sort of memorial. A testament and a reminder to never let this happen again.

  My jaw clenches hard as my mind wanders to my last memory with Mum.

  It was right before Lia and I left for Northshire, she had promised to join us for Lia's birthday, which was only a few days away. I was whining as I often did, and she was making it all better, as she often did. Then she kissed me on the forehead and sent us on our way. I watched her wave as the carriage drove away, and I remember a part of me hating her for being so selfish.

  Selfish. Her.

  Little did I know but not even 24 hours later, that woman, that amazing, kind, and selfish woman, would become nothing more than a memory for the rest of my life.

  My teeth grind so hard I fear they might crack, my eyes locked ruefully at the ruins.

  She must have been so scared...

  I shake my head and sigh deeply before closing my eyes again, my heart getting heavier by the second.

  Stop this.

  Let it go.

  But I can't and soon I'm reminded of my conversation with Averie earlier. An orphanage in the lower ward would be helpful, but the very fact that it's needed has my stomach twisting in disgust again.

  How many children starve every day while the castle feeds its leftovers to the dogs?

  How many of them lost parents that night, just like me?

  Hell, If I were them, I'd want to burn it all down too.

  My grip tightens on the railing. The cold metal digs into my palms, grounding me, but not enough.

  “Are you alright, Your Grace?” a soft feminine voice comes from behind me.

  I startle slightly, my thoughts interrupted by the unexpected voice. I turn around to see the mystery woman from before standing in the doorway, looking at me with a curious yet concerned expression. The fabric of her dress practically shimmers in the open moonlight, as does her skin and the golden beads adorning her hair.

  God, how is she even more beautiful up close?

  “I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a smile despite the lingering heaviness in my chest.

  Still, she steps closer, her eyes scanning my face with an unsettling precision. “You don’t look fine. You look troubled.” she states bluntly, walking over to stand near me by the railing.

  I bristle, defensiveness creeping into my tone before I can stop it. “It’s nothing, don't worry about it.” I mutter, my voice sharper than intended.

  She nods tightly and finally looks away. Ironically enough I miss her soul baring gaze the second I lose it.

  Good job, asshole.

  I make sure that my next words come out a bit softer, “Of course It's very kind of you to worry but it's just pre-wedding nerves, that’s all.”

  The woman immediately arches an eyebrow at my excuse, “Then shouldn’t you be inside enjoying all the fine company, instead of out here brooding by yourself?” she teases, not missing a beat despite my earlier tone.

  I can’t help but let out a light chuckle, appreciating her no-nonsense attitude. “Yeah, I suppose I should. But I needed some fresh air ya know, away from all the… noise.” I gesture vaguely back towards the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside the brothel.

  She hums softly in understanding, her gaze sliding down to the city street below. “It can get overwhelming, especially when everyone wants something from you.” She glances back at me, and there’s something in her eyes—something that feels like being seen for the first time in my life.

  This time I don't flinch, and I study her in return, wary but intrigued. “You seem to have me all figured out,” I say, the words falling somewhere between accusation and admiration.

  She tilts her head, those dark eyes locked on mine. “I’m just really good at reading people,” she replies simply, a playful smirk on her face.

  The intensity of her stare stirs something in me, an unease I can’t quite name. I finally look away, my gaze falling to the sprawling cityscape once more. “What’s your name?” I ask, my voice low and gruff.

  She hesitates, the pause heavy enough to notice. “Clementine,” she says at last, her words dripping with insincerity, “My friends call me Clem.”

  My eyes narrow slightly, not quite buying it. “Right… And what’s your real name Clem?”

  Her gaze sharpens, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she smothers it with a smile. “And why exactly should I tell you my real name, Your Grace?” she counters smoothly, practically teasing me with my own title.

  There's something about her words that feels strangely familiar, like I’ve had this conversation once before, though for the life of me I can’t remember when.

  “Fair enough. How about this then, you tell me your real name and in return I'll grant you one tiny secret about me. Deal?” I offer, glancing back over at her with a playful smile.

  Her eyes narrow, like she’s considering the offer, “What kind of secret?” she asks, cocking her eyebrow up at me skeptically.

  “Anything you want,” I say, turning around to face her fully as I lean casually against the railing, “Within reason, of course.”

  She considers me for a moment, before finally replying, “Alright then. Tell me what you were thinking about before I came out here.”

  The smile slowly slips from my face. “Best not. It wasn’t exactly pleasant,” I warn her.

  “That’s why I asked.” Her voice is firm, her arms crossing over her chest in a clear challenge. "Go on then."

  For a moment, I debate brushing her off. But the weight in my chest is heavy, and the words spill out before I can stop them. “Orphans,” I say, almost a whisper. “I was thinking about orphans.”

  Her expression shifts to curiosity, “Orphans?” she repeats, her voice full of confusion. “Why?”

  “Because there are too many of them,” I respond immediately, frustration bleeding into my tone. “Enough to fill an orphanage. or two. They starve and scrape, while I sit up in my giant golden palace just crying about it. Worse part is, I don’t know how to even begin to stop any of it. And so, I watch...and brood.” I look over at her again, a self-deprecating smile on my face as I do.

  Her eyes stay on me, steady and unflinching. “You feel responsible for them,” she says, not a question but a statement.

  I laugh bitterly. “Shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what a leader is meant to do—protect his people?” I shake my head, trying to banish the hopelessness clawing at my insides. “But how can I protect them when I can’t even find my own footing?” I sigh deeply and it feels like I've been holding it in for years. “Anyway…I’ve answered your question, I believe I am owed a name, my lady.” I remind her, desperate for a distraction from my own chaotic mind for a bit.

  “Hmm, that is the deal huh?” she muses, still studying me with those piercing eyes. She lets the moment drag on for a bit, like she’s still considering if she’s going to tell me or not.

  Finally, she says, “My name is Val.”

  “Val,” I repeat, the name rolling off my tongue like a half-remembered song. “It suits you.”

  Her lips curve into a faint smile. “Well thank the Gods for that, I imagine it’s too late to change it.”

  I find myself laughing again, quieter this time, but more genuine. There’s something about her—a sharpness, a wit, an honesty that cuts through the fog of bullshit that constantly surrounds me. As my gaze lingers on her, I can’t help but add, “Ya know, you don’t act like the typical prostitute.”

  Unfortunately, her expression hardens instantly, her dark eyes narrowing. “And just what do you think a typical prostitute acts like?” she fires back.

  Shit.

  Say something else.

  “No, no, I meant it in a good way. You’re just… different. You’re not the swooning, simpering type, that’s all.” My words spill out too quickly, the desperation in my voice plain.

  Her lips twitch, a faint smirk forming as if she’s amused by my clumsy backpedaling. “No, I’m not,” she agrees, a razor’s edge in her tone. “And I don’t swoon over royalty either Princeling.”

  Oh I see, so we're doing nicknames huh?

  I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth quirking upward. “Oh really? Not even a little bit, Clem?” I tease before taking a small step closer to her.

  She holds her ground as I step closer, her chin lifting defiantly. “Not even a little,” she replies, her voice cool and steady despite the way her eyes shine with amusement.

  The faint scent of lavender and oranges clings to her skin, intoxicating and subtle. My gaze drops to her lips, and the pull is undeniable. “And what if I wanted you to? Just a bit? What if I said...pretty please?” My voice lowers, the words laced with a playful challenge.

  Her eyes remain inscrutable, but the slight hitch in her breath betrays her. “Sorry. I don’t swoon your highness. Not for anyone, not even brooding princes with pretty silver eyes.”

  I smile, feeling a soft sort of pride from the compliment. "You think my eyes are pretty?"

  "I think you could find them in complete darkness." she teases, leaning her hip against the railing.

  "Oi, they don't glow!" I respond in mock offense, pointing a finger at her.

  She glances down at my finger with a smug smirk before meeting my eyes again, "Well they are right now." her voice is soft but her dark all-consuming gaze is still fixed on me.

  Fuck...

  My fingers hover near her cheek, the temptation to touch her becoming too strong to resist. “Fine, you don't swoon.” I murmur, my thumb brushing against the skin just below her cheekbone before falling back to my side. “But are you sure you feel nothing at all?”

  Her eyes widen briefly before she seems catch herself, “I feel,” she says, her voice firming once more, “like someone is looking for a distraction. Perhaps I can help with that...”

  The words hit like cold water, and I pull back, my hand falling to my side. “Is that all this is then?” I ask, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Helping the poor prince forget his troubles?”

  She steps closer, closing the distance I’d tried to create. Her eyes burn into mine, daring me to flinch. “It’s whatever you want it to be,” she says, her voice low and deliberate. “But not because you’re a prince.”

  “Then why?” I ask, my voice a low rumble, my eyes searching hers.

  Her lips curve, a smile that feels like both a secret and a challenge. “Because I find you…intriguing,” she says, her voice soft, her breath warm against my skin. She’s close now, so close I can feel the heat of her, the tension between us crackling like a storm about to break.

  Fuck, it’s hard to think straight when she’s this close.

  “Intriguing, huh?” I repeat, my heart beating faster.

  I know I should stop.

  I know what waits for me—a crown, a bride, a life I didn’t choose. But right now it all feels distant and insignificant compared to the burning desire coursing through my veins when I look at her.

  “What can I say, there's just something about you that makes a girl want to know more,” she murmurs, her voice like silk. She tilts her head up, her gaze dropping to my lips for a fleeting moment before meeting my eyes again. I watch as her teeth graze her lower lip in a gesture so deliberate it sets my blood alight.

  She has to know what she’s doing to me.

  The urge to kiss her becomes overwhelming. I can feel my resolve slowly crumbling, the barriers I’ve put up around my heart being battered by this primal all-consuming longing.

  It's just one night.

  "Well then...what ever shall we do about this?" I tease, my gaze darkening as I look down at her.

  “Upstairs.” is all she says, the single word heavy with promise.

  The invitation alone sparks a fire within me. I know this is her job, but I can’t help but feel like this is also something very different. I know I shouldn’t, that this is reckless and impulsive, especially right before the wedding, but the lure of her, the promise of forgetting everything but her for one night, is just too strong to resist.

  I find myself nodding, my voice coming out breathlessly as I say, “Lead the way Beautiful.”

  Her hand slips into mine, the touch of her fingers like fire against my skin. She leads me through the throng of guests, the noise of the party fading as we climb the stairs. Each step feels heavier than the last, my pulse hammering in my ears.

  This is fine, I'll be back to the palace by morning.

  Just enjoy this.

  Enjoy her.

  At the top, she unlocks a set of golden double doors, gesturing for me to enter ahead of her. "After you Pretty." she teases.

  I suppress a proud grin and nod before stepping past the doorway. Inside, the room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting long shadows on the walls. Deep blue and gold drape every surface, the symbols of my house staring back at me from every corner.

  Ah right of course, the royal suite.

  Why would I expect anything else?

  I enter slowly, my gaze immediately drawn to the large four-poster bed that dominates the space, its gold satin sheets glimmering in the candlelight.

  Okay, so not everything is horrible about the royal suite.

  I glance over my shoulder. Val is still standing in the doorway, watching me with a look that says everything and nothing all at once. But I know at least some part of her is thinking the exact same thing as me right now.

  I’m really going to enjoy destroying you tonight.

  So as of right now, who are you shipping Sonny with?