Queen Lashina Scougall had always preferred shadows to sunlight.
Her private solar in the deepest heart of the royal palace was a masterpiece of controlled darkness — heavy velvet drapes the color of dried blood blocked every window, silver candelabras burned with pale blue flames that gave no warmth, and the walls were lined with mirrors that reflected only her own image back at her, never allowing anyone else to see too clearly. Even the air felt heavier here, thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the faint metallic tang of the poisons she kept hidden in crystal vials on her dressing table.
She sat before the largest mirror now, brushing her long silver-streaked black hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The news from the east wing had reached her an hour ago, delivered by a trembling maid who had fled the moment the words left her lips.
The slave market had collapsed.
The rare blood 'prince' — the boy she had sold as a stillborn twenty years ago — had escaped.
And her son, the Crown Prince Teivel, was bleeding power faster than he could staunch the wound.
Lashina's reflection smiled at her — a small, cold curve of the lips that never reached her eyes. Those eyes were the same stormy gray as the boy she had tried to erase from existence. She had always hated that resemblance.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," she said, voice smooth as poisoned silk.
Her closest advisor — a gaunt man named Lord Kael, whose loyalty had been bought with secrets and fear — stepped inside and bowed low.
"Your Majesty. The King has summoned the Crown Prince. He is… displeased. The nobles are demanding refunds. The rare blood prince's escape has triggered a mass breakout. Over two hundred slaves are missing. The financial loss is catastrophic."
Lashina continued brushing her hair, each stroke measured. "And my son?"
"Teivel is blaming the Wadee consort. He has the man in chains. But the King upon knowing the description of the rare blood 'prince'… he spoke of the lost prince. He called him 'my son.' He is considering changing the line of succession."
The brush paused mid-stroke.
Lashina's reflection in the mirror went very still.
When she spoke again, her voice was soft, almost gentle. "The King is old. Grief makes men sentimental. He still mourns for the first queen he lost — the one I replaced. He dreams of the boy I made disappear."
Lord Kael shifted uncomfortably. "Your Majesty… if the boy is found and his blood proven…"
"Then my son loses the throne." Lashina set the brush down with deliberate care. "And I lose everything I have spent thirty years building."
She rose slowly, the black silk of her gown whispering against the marble floor. In the candlelight she looked both beautiful and terrifying — a woman who had murdered a queen, poisoned rivals, and sold her husband's bastard child into hell without a single flicker of remorse.
"Send for my private agents," she said quietly. "The ones who do not exist on any official roll. The ones who answer only to me."
Lord Kael bowed deeper. "At once, Your Majesty."
Lashina walked to the tall window and drew back the heavy drape just enough to look out at the snow-covered gardens. The palace lights glittered in the distance like false stars.
"The rare blood prince must never reach the border," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "He must never speak his true name. He must never stand before the court and claim what is not his."
She turned, eyes gleaming with the same cold intelligence that had kept her on the throne for decades.
"Issue the order. Private manhunt. Across the border. Use every resource we have in the neighboring kingdoms. Gold. Assassins. Spies. Whatever it takes. The boy is to be found… and silenced. Permanently."
Lord Kael hesitated for half a second. "And if the Wadee consort knows where he was sent?"
Lashina's smile returned — thin, sharp, and utterly without mercy.
"Then the consort will tell us. One way or another. He is already in chains. Break him if you must. But do it quietly. The King must never suspect my hand in this."
She turned back to the mirror and picked up the brush again, resuming the slow, rhythmic strokes.
"Tell my son I wish to see him after the King is finished with him. And remind him… a mother's love is the only shield he has left."
Lord Kael bowed and left without another word.
Alone once more, Queen Lashina stared at her reflection. The woman looking back at her had built an empire on lies, blood, and the quiet removal of every threat to her son's throne.
She would not let one escaped bastard destroy it all.
In the deepest dungeons beneath the east wing, Gerffron Wadee hung in his chains, listening to the faint echoes of shouting that still drifted through the stone.
He could hear the chaos.
He could hear the nobles screaming for their money.
He could hear the empire beginning to crack.
And somewhere far above, in a solar filled with blue-flame candles and night-blooming jasmine, a queen was issuing the order that would hunt the boy he had saved across every border.
Gerffron closed his eyes and smiled through bloodied lips.
Let them all come.
The fire he had started was spreading faster than anyone could contain.
And in five years, when the boy who had waited ten years in chains returned as a man, the queen who had tried to erase him would finally understand what it meant to lose everything.
The manhunt had begun.
But so had the reckoning.