Chapter 3 Vesper

Six days later, the grand lecture hall was packed with students attentively tracking the movements of instructor at the podium. I sat in the middle row, staring down at my blank notebook while the professor droned on about dragon-blood lineages.

My focus wasn’t on the lesson. I was calculating distances. My ultimate target was Kaelen, the crown prince. But after yesterday’s gate-rite, his eyes were already searching for me, and his status kept him completely out of reach.

A minor-house student couldn’t just walk up to the future king’s inner sanctuary without getting absolutely incinerated by guards. I needed a back door into the Heirs Wing, a way to move through those halls without raising alarms. Unfortunately it was too early for me to have any foothold.

When the heavy bells finally rang to signal the end of the day’s classes, I gathered my books and joined the sea of students pouring out into the courtyard.

A student right in front of me suddenly tripped, his boots catching on an uneven stone. He stumbled backward, colliding with my shoulder. My notebooks slipped from my grip, splattering across the cold stone floor.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” the boy said quickly, immediately dropping to his knees to gather my scattered papers. He offered me a warm, genuine smile as he handed them back. “I completely lost my balance there.”

“It’s fine,” I said, reaching down to take the pages. As I reached out, my eyes locked onto the small, intricate gold emblem stitched directly onto his high collar. It was the royal crest of House Ophir.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked up, scanning his face. He had the distinct, sharp features of the royal line, but his eyes were softer, entirely lacking the cold arrogance Kaelen carried. This was Emrys Ophir, the third prince.

I immediately pulled my hands back and lowered my head into a formal bow. “My apologies, Your Highness. I did not realize who you were.”

Emrys let out a soft, slightly embarrassed laugh, waving his hand to dismiss the formality. “Please, don’t do that. There is absolutely no need to bow to me. Just Emrys is perfectly fine.”

He was polite. Extremely sweet. In a palace filled with predators and arrogant high-borns, his genuine kindness felt completely out of place. It was unnerving.

Watching him stand there, entirely open and unguarded, a sharp realization clicked in my mind. ‘I found my way in.’ He was the isolated brother, the weak link in the royal chain. If I could get close to him, the doors to the Heirs’ Wing would open right up for me.

I noticed the large wood-frame canvas and the bundle of puffy brushes tucked tightly under his arm. “Are those painting supplies?” I asked, keeping my voice light and casual, initiating the small talk.

Emrys blinked, a bright spark of surprise lighting up his eyes. “Yes, actually. I was heading down to the lower gardens to work on a landscape. Do you paint?”

“No, but my mother absolutely adored it,” I lied smoothly, drawing on the forged background Mirel had crafted for me. “She used to spend hours mixing pigments. She always said a good painting could hold secret word never could.”

“Your mother sounds incredibly wise,” Emrys said, his smile widening with genuine warmth.

He looked incredibly grateful that someone was actually talking to him about his passions instead of ignoring him like the rest of the court. “Most people here think art is a waste of time. It is nice to meet someone who understands.”

“I understand completely,” I replied, tilting my head with a practiced, friendly smile. “Maybe you can show me some of your work sometime.”

“I would really like that,” he said, his voice quiet and sincere. He gave me a final nod before turning to walk toward the gardens.

We met again two days later. A ‘coincidence’ of some sort. Emrys showed me to art room and displayed his favorite pieces.

They were all impressive but I had a different goal. I posed a scenario of what if he lost track of time and curfew had landed.

“You seem like a troublemaker,” He laughed but told me of a corridor that’s not in use. It was against the rules to use it and it was the fastest way to get to his wing.

Three hours later, the plan was already in motion. Using the information I had casually pried from Emrys about the wing layout and the changing of the guards, I slipped past the residential boundaries after dinner.

The corridors of the Heirs’ Wing were silent, illuminated only by the faint glow of enchanted wall sconces. I kept my back pressed against the dark wooden wall, moving with absolute silence. According to the schedules, Kaelen’s private office was located at the very end of this hall, and tonight he was dinning with us, meaning the room should be empty.

I reached the heavy door of the crown prince’s office. My heart hammered against my ribs as I reached out, my fingers wrapping around the cold brass handle. I twisted it slowly. It clicked open.

I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me with a faint thud. I exhaled a breath, honestly surprised I had reached the far. Everything seemed so easy my guy was telling me there was a catch somewhere.

The room was vast, smelling of old paper and expensive leather. A massive oak desk sat beneath a row of windows. I darted forward, my hands immediately sliding into the top drawer, searching for any royal ledgers, correspondence, or structural maps of the palace.

“You are a remarkably terrible thief,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke from the shadows near the window.

I froze instantly, my hand still gripping the edge of the drawer.

A tall figure stepped out from the darkness. He wore the dark, heavy leather armor of a royal protector, the sign of the crown burned directly into his chest plate.

This was Roan, the crown’s Sworn Blade. The lethal protector bound by ancient blood oaths to eliminate any threat to the royal family. AKA me.

Roan didn’t draw his sword, but his physical presence completely blocked the only exit from the room. His dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with a cold, terrifying stillness.

“You don’t belong in this wing, freshman,” Roan said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t execute you for treason right now.”