A Crown of Thorns

Night had fallen over Valtheris.

Dark clouds drifted across the sky, slowly covering the moon. Its pale light slipped through the gaps, casting a silver glow over the ancient buildings and deserted streets below. A cold breeze swept through the kingdom, stirring the leaves of the trees and whispering through the narrow alleys.

At first glance, everything seemed ordinary.

Yet something about the silence felt wrong.

The streets were empty, and the windows of the towering buildings remained dark. Shadows stretched across the stone roads beneath the faint moonlight. The ancient structures stood like silent guardians, watching over a kingdom that seemed to be holding its breath.

Far from the city center stood the royal castle.

Built from black stone, its towering spires disappeared into the darkness. Iron gates surrounded the courtyard, where stone statues stood motionless beneath the night sky. The castle was magnificent, a symbol of the royal family’s power and wealth.

But its beauty offered little comfort.

Fear lived behind those walls, and even the silence seemed to listen.

Deep within the castle, a single chamber glowed beneath the dim light of crystal lamps.

The royal chamber was spacious and immaculate. Black curtains framed the tall windows, allowing only thin streams of moonlight to fall across the marble floor. An enormous four-poster bed stood against the far wall, its dark silk curtains matching the heavy drapes beside it.

Antique tables, silver ornaments, and expensive rugs filled the room. A carved fireplace stood beneath a portrait of the king, whose stern expression seemed to follow anyone who entered.

Every detail spoke of wealth.

Yet the room felt cold and unwelcoming.

And at the edge of the grand bed sat a young man who looked as though the entire kingdom belonged to him.

Perhaps, one day, it would.

Kael Varyn.

The crown prince of Valtheris sat with one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed enough to suggest that nothing in the world could disturb him.

His jet-black hair fell messily across his forehead, framing sharp features and unnaturally pale skin. His crimson-red eyes stood out against his dark appearance, their color striking and difficult to ignore.

He wore a fitted black shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled to his forearms. A silver ring gleamed on one finger, while his long, dark coat, decorated with delicate silver embroidery, lay nearby.

He looked every bit the prince he was born to be.

Arrogant.

Composed.

Untouchable.

Yet his attention was fixed on something far more interesting than the expensive furnishings around him.

Someone.

A faint, mocking smile touched his lips.

Across the room, a young man lay sprawled on the cold marble floor.

Lucien Ardent.

The prince of Aurelis looked nothing like someone who belonged in a royal chamber.

His once-elegant white clothes were torn and stained with blood and dirt. Scratches covered his body, and blood continued to trickle from several of his injuries. Strands of white hair clung to his forehead, stained red with his own blood.

His skin had lost its natural color, appearing unnaturally pale and dull. His lips had turned bluish, and every breath came unevenly, as though even breathing required more strength than he had left.

He had lost far too much blood.

Yet he was still alive.

Slowly, Lucien lifted his head.

The movement seemed to cost him everything. His arms trembled beneath his weight, and his vision blurred as he struggled to focus.

Then his light-green eyes met Kael’s crimson gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Kael tilted his head slightly.

“Lucien Ardent.”

He spoke the name with quiet amusement, as though greeting an unexpected guest rather than looking at a prince lying helplessly on his floor.

“Well, well.” His gaze traveled over Lucien’s battered appearance. “What happened to you?”

The question carried no genuine concern.

It was mockery disguised as curiosity.

Lucien did not answer.

He barely had the strength to keep his head raised, let alone waste his breath on words. Still, he kept his eyes on Kael.

There was no obvious fear in them.

No anger, either.

Only exhaustion.

And a strange, stubborn calmness that did not match his condition.

Kael’s smile weakened.

He was accustomed to people lowering their eyes in his presence. Fear came naturally to most who stood before him, whether they admitted it or not.

But Lucien simply stared at him.

Even now, barely conscious and unable to stand, the other prince refused to look away.

How irritating.

Kael rose from the bed.

His boots met the marble floor with measured steps as he crossed the room. He did not hurry. There was no reason to. Lucien was in no condition to go anywhere.

With every step, the distance between them grew smaller.

Lucien tried to remain conscious.

His eyelids felt unbearably heavy, and the room seemed to tilt around him. He could no longer make out the details of Kael’s face clearly. The crimson of his eyes blurred into the darkness, and a dull ringing filled Lucien’s ears.

His body trembled.

He knew he should not move, but some stubborn part of him refused to surrender completely.

Not yet.

Kael stopped beside him.

For several seconds, he merely looked down at the injured prince. Then, without a word, he bent his knees and sat on the floor beside him.

The expensive fabric of his trousers brushed against the cold marble.

Lucien watched him through half-lowered eyelids, struggling to understand what Kael intended to do.

He could no longer think clearly.

His thoughts slipped away almost as quickly as they formed, leaving him with nothing but exhaustion and the distant awareness of another person beside him.

Then Lucien moved his hand.

It was a small, unsteady movement. His fingers barely lifted from the floor before reaching for Kael’s sleeve.

They closed around the black fabric.

Weakly.

Almost desperately.

Kael went still.

Through the thin material, he could feel the warmth of Lucien’s fingers against his arm.

For a moment, he looked down at the hand gripping his sleeve.

The mocking smile disappeared from his face.

It was only a brief change, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. His crimson eyes remained unreadable, revealing nothing of the thoughts passing behind them.

Lucien’s fingers loosened.

He shifted slightly, moving closer as though he needed something to keep him upright. But his strength had finally reached its limit.

His head fell forward.

Before Kael could move, Lucien’s body gave way, and his face came to rest against Kael’s chest.

He had lost consciousness.

Silence settled over the chamber.

Kael did not react immediately.

He remained seated on the floor, Lucien lying against him, his breathing faint and uneven.

For several moments, Kael stared at an empty point on the marble floor.

His expression gave nothing away.

Whatever had brought Lucien Ardent to this state, whatever had happened before he arrived in Valtheris, Kael seemed less interested in asking questions than in considering something only he could understand.

A different game was unfolding in his mind.

And Lucien, unconscious against him, had no way of knowing what the crown prince was thinking.

At last, Kael lowered his gaze.

“Poor prince,” he murmured.

His eyes traveled over Lucien’s pale face and the blood staining his white hair.

“What a miserable state you’ve put yourself in, Lucien Ardent.”

He released a quiet sigh.

Then he moved.

Carefully, Kael slipped one arm beneath Lucien’s shoulders and the other beneath his knees. He lifted him from the floor, taking care not to disturb his injured body, and carried him toward the grand bed.

Lucien did not stir.

Kael lowered him onto the mattress and adjusted his position before drawing the blanket over him, covering him up to his chest.

For a brief moment, he stood beside the bed.

The prince of Aurelis looked strangely out of place among the dark silk sheets and expensive furnishings. His white hair spread across the pillow, and his pale face seemed almost colorless beneath the dim light.

Kael watched him in silence.

Then he turned away.

Without another word, he walked toward the dressing area attached to his chamber, leaving Lucien alone in the quiet room.

Outside, dark clouds continued to cover the moon.

And inside the royal castle of Valtheris, the night carried on as though nothing had changed.

But something had.

Whatever the night had brought into Kael Varyn’s chambers, its consequences had only begun.