Sold To The Cruel Prince

Kael tensed as Theron approached.

It was not a visible thing, not something an untrained eye would notice, but his entire body reacted all the same. His breath grew shallow, his muscles locked, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, it felt as though the blood in his veins had turned to ice.

"Sire..." he forced the word out, though his tongue felt dry, heavy. "I have vowed to act in your best interest."

The words came out steady enough, but he knew what they implied.

He had sworn to serve. To protect. Not just from enemies, but from anything that might threaten the prince, including the prince himself.

It was the duty of the Vantaris family.

And so, of course, he reported to the Queen. Because she, above all, cared for the prince’s well-being.

Theron said nothing. That silence was worse than anger. He stepped closer and, without a word, placed his hand on Kael’s head.

Kael froze.

Theron’s eyes shifted.

The dark, endless black of them, like an abyss that swallowed light, began to change. A faint glimmer appeared, subtle at first, like distant starlight flickering across a night sky. Then, in a sudden, unnatural motion, a streak of light cut through the darkness of his irises, splitting them vertically.

For a brief, disorienting moment... Theron’s eyes resembled those of a fox.

Kael gritted his teeth. A sound escaped him, low and strained; not quite a cry, but close. It didn’t feel like pain. Not exactly.

It felt like something far worse.

Like something invisible had reached inside him and begun to pull, slowly and relentlessly, at the very core of his being. As though his soul itself was being dragged loose from where it belonged to see something he couldn’t fathom.

His vision blurred. The world warped.

The shadows he had always commanded, always trusted, betrayed him now. They twisted and stretched, slipping out of shape, refusing to obey. The edges of reality softened, bled into one another, until he could no longer tell what was real and what was illusion.

It felt like drowning, like being suspended in something vast and empty, drifting further and further away from himself.

And then, came Theron’s voice, clear and cold, echoing through that endless void.

"Choose wisely."

The pressure vanished, abruptly and completely.

Theron removed his hand as though nothing had happened and turned away, already walking off without a second glance.

Kael collapsed forward, his body giving in all at once as he hit the ground hard, his hands catching him just barely. His entire frame trembled, breath uneven, fingers curling against the dirt as though anchoring himself back into the world.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head. Theron’s figure was already receding into the distance.

Kael clenched his fists. He had heard the stories. The royal family’s power was to bend reality itself, to twist perception, to reach into the very fabric of a person’s mind.

His liege was said to possess it. Kael had seen others fall prey to it before.

But never...Never like this. He had never felt it.

And now...

For the sake of that woman...

His jaw tightened.

That cursed woman.

His instincts had warned him from the beginning. There was something wrong about her, something unnatural. Whatever she was, whatever clung to her, it was not something that should remain near his liege.

She needed to be removed, cleanly, from his side, at the right moment.

And yet... Kael’s resolve wavered because just moments ago, he had witnessed something else; something he had never seen before.

His liege... laughing. Not a controlled smile, not a measured expression, but a real laugh—unrestrained, unguarded, like a boy who carried no weight on his shoulders.

Kael’s grip loosened slightly.

Deep down, he knew what that meant. Only that woman had been able to bring that out of him. Only her.

His chest tightened.

But that darkness... That thing surrounding her... It was not something he could ignore.

Slowly, he pushed himself up, his body still unsteady, and stood. His gaze remained fixed on the path where both of them had disappeared, long after they were gone.

Caught between duty...

And doubt.

-----

Aveline slowed to a stop in front of a shop that looked far too grand to belong in an ordinary stretch of the market. Guards stood at the entrance, their posture rigid, their presence enough to keep most people at a respectful distance.

Inside, everything was arranged behind thick panes of glass, each display lit carefully, as though what lay within were not merely valuable but dangerous.

She hesitated only for a second.

The guards glanced at her, their eyes briefly lingering on the bouquet of shimmering roses clutched to her chest, and then stepped aside without objection.

So she walked in.

The moment she crossed the threshold, her attention was stolen completely.

The entire space glowed; not with the cold brilliance of polished gems, but with something softer, stranger, with stones of every shape and color, each emitting its own quiet light. Some shimmered faintly, like embers beneath ash. Others gleamed brightly, almost too bright to look at for long. Gold, violet, deep blue, smoky black—every color seemed to exist here, held captive behind glass.

And yet, for all their beauty, she could not quite understand why they were guarded so heavily, because she had seen them individually in her garden at times.

"These are called aetherstones."

Theron’s voice came from just behind her.

Aveline turned, her expression lighting up immediately as she saw him, still holding the roses close as though they were something alive.

"Aetherstones?" she repeated, tasting the unfamiliar word. "Are they used for jewelry?"

They looked like they should be.

Theron stepped beside her, close enough that her shoulder brushed lightly against his arm. The contact was subtle, but neither of them moved away.

"They discovered something called ether energy about five years ago," he explained. "Any mineral that naturally holds that energy, and can be refined for healing, alchemy, or power, is called an aetherstone."

Aveline blinked.

To her, they didn’t seem all that different from the strange, glowing things she had occasionally seen in food or trinkets before. If anything, these just looked... prettier.

"They’re pretty," she said simply.

Theron glanced at her, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression.

"Pretty?" he echoed.

Behind the counter, the shopkeeper nearly choked on his own breath.

He had allowed her in only because of the bouquet she carried—those roses alone were proof enough that she was not to be turned away. But in all his years of dealing with aetherstones, he had heard them described as powerful, rare, dangerous, even volatile.

Never pretty.

Theron, however, only smiled.

Because she was leaning forward now, completely absorbed, her face inches away from a stone that, if he were being honest, looked suspiciously like a cluster of goat droppings.

And yet there she was, staring at it as though it were the most fascinating thing in the room, her eyes bright with quiet wonder.

Of course, she would see it differently.

That, after all, was precisely why...

His thoughts stilled.