"…this hunt is not only a tradition of valor, but a symbol of unity among our noble houses—"
As Roseanne's voice rang out from atop the viewing platform, Lucien stood below, flanked by knights in ceremonial armor. His gaze swept over the assembled nobles, scanning their ranks one by one.
Yet despite several passes, Duke Ecklette was nowhere to be found.
His brows drew together slightly. He's absent? On a day like this?
Footsteps approached from behind. Lucien turned just enough to see Alfred bow respectfully before stepping beside him. With a shared glance, they both returned their attention to the platform.
"She's not here," Alfred murmured under his breath. "A maid said they left the pavilion earlier. No one knows why."
"I see," Lucien replied quietly, keeping his gaze fixed forward as the Empress's voice carried above them. He had waited—discreetly—for the Duchess and her daughter to appear at the arranged spot. But even after the horns signaled the start of the hunt, neither had shown.
Did she change her mind?
He couldn't fault her if she had, for someone like the Duchess, even an arranged "coincidence" risked stirring another round of gossip. Still, it meant his attempt to settle the matter peacefully would have to wait.
"Has their carriage left the palace grounds?"
"I checked," Alfred said. "They're still within the estate."
Lucien gave a slight nod. "Keep an eye on them."
Alfred inclined his head. "Understood."
The blaring of the trumpet reverberated through the air, signaling the start of the ceremony. The herald stepped forward, his voice ringing across the assembled nobles:
"On this day, His Highness Lucien de Solairé, the Second Prince of the Empire, shall take the first shot to open the imperial hunt. May it bring honor to the empire and glory to the hunter."
Two squires approached with a ceremonial bow, leading a white stallion adorned in gleaming caparisons. Lucien mounted in one fluid motion, accepting the polished bow presented upon a velvet-draped tray.
Ahead, a broad wooden disc bore the radiant crest of the sun. He guided his horse to the mark and drew the bowstring taut. A hush settled over the clearing. The tension in the string mirrored the tension in the crowd.
He released.
The arrow flew true, striking the heart of the imperial sun's crest.
Applause erupted as the crowd rose, cheering.
He returned the bow, offering a respectful nod to the Empress before turning his horse toward the line of riders forming behind him. From the platform, Roseanne met his gaze. A warm smile graced her lips, her silent words unmistakable: 'Good luck,' which he answered with a nod.
Alfred approached and bowed. "I'll be waiting for your return."
Lucien returned a brief nod. "Thank you."
Alfred's gaze shifted to Kyle, mounted beside him. "Please… watch over His Highness."
Kyle inclined his head, his expression steady. "I will."
Alfred stepped back, his hand resting briefly over his chest. "Good luck, Your Highness."
The second trumpet blared.
With a powerful surge, the hunt thundered into motion—hooves striking the earth, banners snapping in the wind, the forest swallowing the riders one by one. Lucien led the vanguard, the wind whipping through his hair.
Though his plan had faltered, the day was not over. I'll speak to the Duke at the banquet tonight.
***
A shrill cry pierced the air as an arrow struck the deer's heart before it collapsed to the ground.
From atop his stallion, Lucien exhaled quietly and lowered his bow. Squires hurried through the underbrush toward the fallen stag.
"Splendid shot, Your Highness," Kyle remarked from beside him, guiding his horse closer.
"Thank you," Lucien replied with a nod.
"Your archery's improved a lot in just five months." Halting before him, Kyle chuckled. "At this rate, you'll put the palace instructors out of work."
Lucien shrugged nonchalantly. "Practice does pay off."
It had to.
He had trained—bathed in sweat and blood—because if he failed to return home and Tristan stood in his path, he had to be ready.
"So," Kyle asked, easing his horse alongside Lucien's, "would you like to return or keep going?"
Lucien's gaze swept the quiet forest, sunlight filtering through the dense canopy in shifting bands of gold. Three hours had passed since the hunt began; he had brought down several animals, but the prize target—the imperial-marked bear—had yet to be sighted.
"Let's continue." There was still time before the hunt ended.
Before Kyle could respond, a sharp whistle cut through the trees. Both men turned as a scout burst from the underbrush, his horse lathered with sweat.
"Your Highness!" the scout called, saluting as he approached. "Tracks on the north ridge. Deep claw marks in the bark and trails of blood. We believe it's the bear."
Lucien straightened in the saddle. "How fresh?"
"Within the hour. Whatever it is, it's moving slowly—wounded, perhaps. Still nearby."
Kyle's smirk bloomed, his fingers flexing around the reins. "We've got a chance—"
"Your Highness!"
A shout pierced the air, snapping every head toward a knight galloping through the trees, his horse kicking up leaves and dirt.
The stallion skidded to a halt, snorting and rearing slightly as the knight yanked on the reins. Breathless, he bowed low. "Your Highness—Her Majesty commands your immediate return!"
Lucien's brows knitted. "What happened?"
"There's been an accident," the knight panted. "Her Majesty has canceled the hunt and ordered all participants to return at once."
Kyle's voice sharpened. "What kind of accident?"
The knight swallowed hard. "Lady Roschella has been kidnapped."
Silence fell as the words sank in.
"Explain," Lucien demanded.
"A few hours ago, Duchess Ecklette was found unconscious near the western terrace," the man reported, his voice tight. "Upon regaining consciousness, she stated that she had accompanied Lady Roschella there before the hunt began, when they were suddenly ambushed."
The western terrace…
That was supposed to be their 'accidental' meeting.
The knight hesitated, then swallowed again. "There's… another issue, Your Highness."
Lucien looked up. "Speak."
"Rumors are spreading," the man said cautiously. "Some servants claim to have seen you near that area earlier, and others saw the Duchess and Lady Roschella heading the same way. People are saying Lady Roschella might have been on her way to meet you."
Lucien exhaled sharply. He could already picture the chaos unfolding at court. With Roschella missing on the way to their supposed rendezvous, the court wouldn't wait for facts—they would condemn him before he could even speak.
Kyle's expression darkened as he met his eyes. "Someone's deliberately framing you."
"Yes." Lucien's grip tightened on the reins.
But no matter how he thought about it, the timing was too precise to be a coincidence. The ambush overlapped almost exactly with their "accidental" meeting. Did the perpetrator know about the promise? Or had someone betrayed him, or the Duchess?
Lucien sighed slowly through his nose and pressed a hand to his brow.
The meeting with Duke Ecklette had failed.
The chance to clear the misunderstanding—gone.
And now Roschella had been kidnapped, his name tied to it.
Piece by piece, his plans crumbled.
And he hated the helplessness clawing at him.
Turning back to the messenger, Lucien asked, "What about the search party?"
"The search party—"
An arrow slammed into the knight's throat.
Blood spurted as he fell to the ground.
"An ambush!" Kyle shouted, drawing his sword.
The knights closed ranks around Lucien, shields raised. Another rider lifted a hunting horn, but an arrow shattered it midair, severing their last hope for reinforcements.