Meanwhile, in the east wing, the air was different.
Jade’s room was warm.
A fire crackled in the fireplace.
It was nicer than when he first arrived.
A thicker rug was on the floor.
A heavier blanket was on the bed.
Small kindnesses from the castle staff who had started to feel sorry for the quiet guest with the sad eyes.
Jade was not looking at the fire.
He was sitting in a chair by the window.
He stared out at the dark garden.
Snowflakes fell past the glass, slow and silent.
He held a book in his lap, but he was not reading it.
His silver reading glasses were folded on the table beside him.
The door was not fully closed.
Voices came from the sitting area just outside his bedroom.
Minister Kalgen was there.
So was the old minister from the council.
A few others stood with them, their faces lit by the hallway torchlight.
They were talking in low, happy voices.
“A clear win,” Kalgen said, a wide smile on his face.
He rubbed his hands together.
“Better than we planned.
The petition is as good as settled.”
The old minister chuckled.
It was a dry, satisfied sound.
“Couldn’t let us lose, could I?
Happened for the good.”
Another minister nodded, his head bobbing.
“One problem out, another left.
Makes everything simpler.”
They were congratulating each other.
They were happy.
Then, one of them raised his glass of wine toward Jade’s open door.
“And to our young lord!
The true firstborn.
Your patience is rewarded.”
Jade did not move.
He kept staring out the window.
His face was very still.
Kalgen stepped into the doorway.
“Young master?
Did you hear?
The council is yours.
The Duke only has two sons now.
You and Alex.
And you are the eldest.
The seat is yours to take.”
Jade slowly turned his head.
He looked at Kalgen.
His crimson eyes were flat in the firelight.
He did not smile.
Kalgen’s own smile faded a little.
“Is something wrong?
This is a victory.”
Jade stood up.
He placed the book carefully on the chair.
He walked toward the doorway.
His steps were quiet on the rug.
The ministers in the sitting area turned to look at him.
They were still smiling, waiting for him to share their joy.
Jade walked right past Kalgen.
He did not stop until he was standing in front of the old minister.
The one who had spoken the secret in the council room.
The old man looked up at him, still chuckling.
“A good day’s work, my lord—”
Jade’s hand shot out.
It was fast.
So fast the old man didn’t have time to blink.
Jade grabbed the front of the old minister’s fine robes.
He didn’t just grab them.
He yanked.
He pulled the old man right up out of his chair.
The man’s feet almost left the floor.
His wine glass fell from his hand and shattered on the stone.
*Crash.*
The sound was very loud in the sudden quiet.
Everyone froze.
All the happy talk stopped.
The smiles vanished.
The only sound was the crackling fire and the old man’s surprised gasp.
Jade held him there.
His slender fingers were clenched tight in the fabric.
His knuckles were white.
He was not tall, but in that moment, he seemed to loom over the old man.
His voice, when he spoke, was not loud.
But it was cold.
Sharp.
Like ice breaking.
“You think,” Jade said slowly, “that I need your dirty tricks to win an argument?”
The old minister’s eyes were wide.
His face had gone pale.
He stammered.
“I… I only… I did it for you!
For your good!”
Jade’s eyes narrowed.
“Who gave you permission to do that?”
“I… it was necessary!
To remove the obstacle!”
“Necessary?” Jade’s voice was a whisper, but it cut through the room.
“To dig up a man’s deepest pain?
To break a family in front of everyone?
To use a secret that was not yours to tell?”
Kalgen stepped forward.
He put a hand on Jade’s arm.
His voice was soothing, like talking to a spooked horse.
“Young master, please.
Calm yourself.
Isn’t it a good thing?
Besides, it is what you wanted.
You told us to remove them from the heir position at all costs.
We have done it!”
Jade turned his head.
He looked at Kalgen’s hand on his arm.
Then he looked up into Kalgen’s face.
Kalgen froze.
The look in Jade’s eyes was not the look of the quiet, polite poet.
It was not the look of the sad boy from the south.
It was something else.
Something hard and bright and dangerous.
Like a blade finally pulled from its pretty sheath.
Kalgen took a step back.
His hand fell away.
“I do not need to rely on dirty tricks to win a council meeting,” Jade said, his voice still quiet, but every word was clear as a bell.
“I am the true firstborn.
That is a fact.
It does not change, no matter what they do.
The seat is mine to take with truth and law.
Not with… this.”
He looked back at the old minister, who was still dangling from his grip.
“Your tricks do not help me.
They only stain my reputation.
They make me look like I need to cheat.
Like I am weak.”
He let go.
The old minister stumbled backward, catching himself on his chair.
He clutched at his robes, breathing hard.
He looked scared.
Jade straightened his own sleeves.
He did it slowly, calmly.
The anger was gone from his face as quickly as it had come.
But the coldness remained.
The other ministers stared.
They did not know what to say.
One of them, a younger man, finally found his voice.
“W-what now?
Do we stop?”
“No,” Jade said immediately.
The word was firm.
“We do not stop.”
He walked over to the table where his glasses lay.
He picked them up.
He did not put them on.
He held them in his hand.
“Continue with the process,” he said, looking at the ministers but not really seeing them.
His mind was already somewhere else.
“Get more signatures.
Find more supporters.
Anyone in the north who is against the current heirs, anyone who fears their… wildness… collect them.
Build the case.
Do it properly.
Do it cleanly.”
He turned and walked toward the door that led to the hallway.
“But, my lord,” Kalgen said, confused.
“Where are you going?”
Jade did not answer.
He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, dark corridor.
He closed the door softly behind him, leaving the stunned ministers in the warm, messy room.
He walked.
His feet knew the way.
Down the east wing stairs, through a quiet hall, out a side door that led to the winter gardens.
The cold air hit his face.
It was a shock.
It felt good.
Snow was falling.
Soft, fat flakes drifted down from the black sky.
The garden was a world of white and shadow.
The bare branches of trees were painted with snow.
The frozen fountain was a silent hill.
Jade walked to the middle of the garden.
He stopped.
He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky.
The snow fell on his face.
One perfect, cold flake landed right at the corner of his eye.
For a second, it sat there, a tiny star on his skin.
Then it melted.
A single drop of water traced a path down his cheek.
It could have been melted snow.
It could have been something else.
He stood there for a long time, alone in the falling snow, the glasses held tight in his cold hand.
He was winning.
He was getting everything he came for.
But standing in the silent, frozen garden, with the memory of a shattered family and a broken boy in a dusty tower, it did not feel like winning at all.