I must have read the invitation ten times before Eli cleared his throat for the third time.
It wasn't long, and it didn't need to be. An invitation to attend His Highness's hunting party this Saturday at the royal grounds. Attendance requested.
Requested.
I turned the thick paper over in my hand again. The seal had already been broken, but I could still see the faint imprint of the Prince's crest pressed into the red wax. Clean. Official. Impossible to ignore.
"You'll be going, then?" Eli asked carefully.
I glanced at him. "Do I look like I have a choice?"
He didn't answer, which was answer enough.
I folded the letter and set it on the desk. The room felt smaller than usual. The walls closer, the air heavier.
This wasn't like the banquet. The banquet had been noise and spectacle. A hunting party was different. It was controlled, selective, and far more intimate.
And the Duke would be there.
Of course he would be there.
I rubbed my temple. "Tell me something, Eli. Has His Highness ever invited me to anything before?"
"No," he replied immediately.
"Not once?"
"Not unless it involved humiliating you publicly."
I exhaled slowly. "Good. I was worried this was normal."
Eli did not smile. "This is not normal."
That much I already knew.
⸻
The royal grounds stretched beyond the palace estate, carefully maintained and designed to look wild without ever actually being so. As our carriage approached, nobles were already gathering near the entrance pavilion in polished boots and bright riding coats, their laughter measured and contained.
I adjusted the cuffs of my grey coat. It was simple, respectable, and deliberately unremarkable.
"Remember," Eli murmured beside me, "you are expected to behave."
"I always behave."
He gave me a look.
"Fine," I added. "I behave selectively."
The carriage stopped. A footman opened the door.
The autumn air was crisp as I stepped down. Conversation faltered for half a second before resuming. Just long enough for whispers to trail behind me.
"Viscount."
"Damien."
"...bold, showing his face."
Yes, yes i heard you.
I kept my expression neutral. Not proud. Not ashamed. Just present.
I let the system flicker briefly as I scanned the crowd.
[Threat Level: Minimal]
[Threat Level: Low]
Faces labeled and then fading as my focus shifted. Gossips and opportunists. Social nuisances, not dangers.
Then I saw him.
The Prince stood near the pavilion steps in deep blue riding attire, gold trim catching the light in a way that reminded everyone who he was. Blond hair, composed posture, easy smile.
I focused.
[Threat Level: Moderate]
That felt accurate. Not harmless. Not catastrophic. Capable of harm, but not inclined toward it without reason.
"Viscount Damien."
The voice came from directly in front of me.
I bowed. "Your Highness."
"I was pleased you accepted my invitation."
"The honor is mine."
He studied me openly, curious rather than hostile.
"You've been busy lately."
"I try to avoid boredom."
He laughed lightly. "Yes. I've heard."
He gestured toward the forest behind us. "Walk with me."
We moved away from the gathering, though not far enough to escape observation.
"You surprised many at the banquet," he said.
"That was not my intention."
"No? Then what was?"
The same question in a different shape.
"I was careless before," I replied evenly. "I mistook noise for influence. That was inefficient."
"That is an unusual thing to admit."
"Admitting it privately costs me nothing."
"And resolving a merchant's bureaucratic troubles?" he asked. "Was that also efficiency?"
"I dislike waste," I said. "Goods rotting at the gate. Officials padding their pockets. It reflects poorly on the Crown."
He paused at that.
"You are concerned about my reputation now?"
"I am concerned about the stability of the city, Your Highness."
He smiled faintly. "You were never this measured."
"Perhaps you never asked the right questions."
That earned a genuine laugh.
"And what are you being careful of, Damien?"
"Being irrelevant."
He regarded me more closely.
"You are not irrelevant now."
"I am aware."
Silence settled between us, not hostile but deliberate.
Movement behind him drew my attention.
Black coat. Controlled posture.
I focused once.
[Threat Level: Extreme]
The word hovered in my vision like a quiet warning. Darius stood near the edge of the gathering, speaking with other nobles while watching this exchange without appearing to do so.
I looked away before the system display lingered.
The Prince followed my glance briefly. "Do you fear the Duke?"
"I respect him."
"Most do."
"I imagine he prefers it that way."
"You interest him," the Prince said.
That was not comforting.
"I try not to."
"Too late."
A horn sounded, signaling the start of the hunt. Servants brought forward horses.
"Ride with me," the Prince said.
"I would not presume."
"I insist."
We mounted.
"You've been underestimated," he said once we began moving.
"That seems to be the consensus."
"And do you resent it?"
"No."
"No?"
"It gave me room to observe."
"You speak as if you've been planning something."
"I speak as someone who has made mistakes."
"That is not the same thing."
Perhaps not.
Another rider approached from the side, effortless and controlled.
Darius drew level with us, immaculate as ever.
"Your Highness."
"Duke."
"Viscount."
"Your Grace."
"You two seem to have developed a rapport," the Prince remarked.
"That would imply mutual understanding," Darius said mildly.
"And do you not understand the Viscount?"
Darius looked at me fully.
"I am still assessing," he replied.
The system warning lingered in the back of my mind without reappearing.
The Prince laughed softly. "Then perhaps we all are."
The hunt resumed its pace.
"I look forward to seeing how you perform today, Viscount," Darius said quietly before moving ahead.
There was no emphasis in his voice, only fact.
The horn sounded again somewhere deeper in the forest, sharper this time. The riders shifted formation without being told, instinctively tightening around the Prince.
Darius reined his horse in near the front, posture relaxed but alert.
The Prince leaned slightly forward in his saddle, excitement sharpening his expression. "Now it begins properly," he said.
The dogs had picked up something.
The underbrush ahead trembled faintly.
A murmur moved through the riders.
I felt it then not from the system, not from a label hovering in my vision but from memory.
A scene from the novel.
The boar.
Not an ordinary animal. Agitated. Driven off course. A handler bribed. A path miscalculated.
An "accident."
In the original story, the Prince's horse had panicked. He had fallen. The injury had not killed him, but it had changed the balance of power in court for months.
And I knew exactly where it was supposed to happen.
My grip tightened on the reins.
The Prince urged his horse forward, laughing under his breath as the riders fanned out.
Darius moved slightly to the right flank, calm as ever.
This was the moment before impact.
The air felt heavier. The forest quieter.
Something was wrong with the formation. Subtle. Easy to miss if you weren't looking for it.
I was.
And this time, I wasn't just watching.