Rosearia woke to the feeling of someone gently stroking her hair.
The touch was slow, deliberate, and hypnotically soothing. It felt so good that she didn’t want to open her eyes — for the first time in months, her sleep had been completely peaceful. No nightmares. No strange voices. No flashes of a past life she couldn’t remember.
Just overwhelming warmth.
She slowly fluttered her eyelashes open.
Adrian was sitting beside her on the mattress, bathed in early morning light. His long, calloused fingers were running gently through her jade-green hair, smoothing out the tangles with unexpected softness.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Rosearia realized something disastrous.
She was smiling. She had actually been leaning into his touch, softly humming like a content cat while he petted her.
Her cheeks immediately exploded into a brilliant crimson flush.
I thought I was dreaming!
Rosearia quickly closed her eyes again, pretending she was still fast asleep.
Unfortunately, she was far too late.
"I know you’re awake, Rose."
Her eyes remained shut tight. "I’m not."
"How was your night?" Adrian’s deep voice carried an unmistakable, intoxicating hint of dark amusement. "Although, you were making rather adorable sounds every time my hand touched your hair."
Rosearia’s eyes snapped open. "I was not!"
His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smirk. "I think you liked it."
"I did not."
"Mm." He leaned closer, his icy-blue gaze heavy and utterly pleased with himself. "Perhaps I should do it every night."
Rosearia narrowed her crimson eyes, her pulse hammering against her ribs. "You are teasing me, Your Highness."
"I would never."
His innocent tone made the lie painfully obvious.
Rosearia clicked her tongue and turned her face away, smoothing her green locks over her shoulder to hide the heat crawling all the way down to her collarbone.
"Where is Aldric?" she demanded, eager to change the subject before her heart beat out of her chest.
"He left early."
"Without telling me?"
"He wanted to investigate the assassin’s crest before anyone in the court could interfere."
"Hmm." Rosearia nodded. She tried to restrain the question sitting on the tip of her tongue, but her curiosity won. "And Asmodeus?"
Adrian’s expression cooled instantly, the teasing warmth vanishing into sub-zero frost.
"He left yesterday after you fell asleep."
"To where?"
"I don’t know."
Rosearia turned her head back toward him. "You don’t know?"
"He didn’t tell me."
That old, sly demon. Of course he hadn’t. Asmodeus never walked away without leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions.
Adrian studied her flushed face, his gaze softening just a fraction. "How are you feeling?"
"Good."
"Any pain from yesterday’s overexertion?"
"Not really."
"Good."
He paused, his broad shoulders tensing beneath his dark tunic. "There is something I want to ask you."
Rosearia caught the sudden shift in the air instantly. "What?"
"I plan to visit my mother today."
The teasing edge was entirely gone from his voice, replaced by a raw, quiet gravity.
Rosearia’s expression softened. "Your mother?"
Adrian nodded once. "I don’t know if you’d like to come with me."
She hesitated. There was something in the restrained, vulnerable way he asked that made it obvious this wasn’t an ordinary royal visit.
"Where does she live?"
Adrian was quiet for a long heartbeat.
Then—
"She died a long time ago."
Rosearia’s breath hitched softly. "Oh."
"My mother’s grave is outside the capital," he said, looking toward the high window. "I visit whenever I can." The source of this chapter is g.com.
The terrifying Crown Prince. The apex predator who had slaughtered assassins without blinking. The man who carried the crushing weight of an entire Empire on his shoulders...
For the very first time, Rosearia saw the raw truth beneath his armor.
A son who deeply missed his mother.
"Then I’ll go with you," she said softly.
Adrian looked down at her, searching her eyes. "You don’t have to."
"I know." A small, breathtaking smile touched her lips. "But I want to."
For several seconds, he simply stared at her, as if absorbing her presence into his soul.
Then he nodded slowly. "Get ready," he murmured, rising from the bed. "I’ll wait outside."
As the heavy door clicked shut behind him, Rosearia sat on the edge of the mattress.
She couldn’t explain why, but something about this journey felt immensely important. She wasn’t just visiting a grave — she was being allowed into a part of Adrian’s heart that no one else in the world was permitted to see.
An hour later, Rosearia stood before the full-length mirror.
She wore a long black gown that hugged her waist before flowing elegantly to the floor. Her vibrant jade-green hair fell over her pale shoulders in gentle waves, creating a striking, magnificent contrast against the dark silk. She kept her jewelry minimal — today wasn’t a day for extravagance.
Snowball sat by her ankles, a miniature black bow tied securely around his fluffy neck.
Rosearia looked down at the tiny calamity beast. "You look ridiculous."
Snowball’s floppy ears twitched with supreme offense. "I look elegant."
A quiet knock sounded at the door.
"Rose?"
"Come in."
The door swung open.
Adrian’s icy-blue gaze landed on her, and for a long, breathless moment, he froze. His eyes trailed slowly down the sweeping black gown before locking onto her face, burning with a quiet, heavy intensity.
"You look beautiful," he said softly.
Rosearia felt a sudden tug in her chest. "Thank you."
Snowball looked between them, tilting his white head. "I think she looks better than you."
Adrian’s eyebrow twitched dangerously.
Rosearia pressed her hand against her lips to muffle a sudden laugh, while Snowball sat there looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.
Adrian extended his gloved hand toward her. "Shall we?"
Rosearia placed her fingers in his warm, firm grip. "Let’s go."
The journey outside the capital was wrapped in a solemn, peaceful quiet.
Adrian rode his shadow-steed beside Rosearia as they traveled along a secluded path lined with tall silver trees whose leaves shimmered gently in the wind. Snowball sat comfortably in Rosearia’s lap, occasionally poking his tiny white head out from beneath her black cloak.
After nearly an hour, Adrian guided his horse toward an unmarked clearing hidden deep within the ancient forest.
Rosearia looked around at the untouched beauty. "Where are we?"
"My mother’s resting place is just ahead."
The path opened into a breathtaking clearing bathed in soft sunlight. There were no royal guards here. No palace servants. No imperial banners.
Only a single, pristine marble tomb resting beneath an enormous flowering tree whose pale pink petals drifted softly through the air.
Rosearia stepped down from her horse.
The clearing felt holy — completely isolated from the scheming world of the imperial court.
Adrian approached the grave. His steps grew slower, heavier, until he stopped directly before the marble monument.
For several seconds, he stood in total silence. The Crown Prince seemed to fade away, leaving behind only a son standing before his mother.
Rosearia remained a few paces behind, giving him his space.
Adrian eventually knelt and gently brushed several fallen petals from the cool marble.
Engraved across the stone in elegant silver script was her name:
Empress Isolde.
Rosearia lowered her gaze respectfully. "She must have been very important to you."
Adrian let out a quiet, low laugh — a sound devoid of his usual imperial authority. "More than anyone." He looked up toward the sweeping pink canopy. "She used to bring me here when I was young. She said the palace was too loud."
Rosearia smiled faintly, stepping up beside him. "She sounds wise."
"She was."
Adrian sat on the soft grass beneath the tree, resting his back against the trunk.
Rosearia joined him, smoothing her black dress around her legs.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke, listening to the gentle rustle of the wind through the silver branches.
"What was she like?" Rosearia asked softly.
Adrian’s icy-blue eyes softened with distant warmth. "Kind." He paused. "Extremely stubborn."
Rosearia let out a soft laugh.
He glanced at her sideways. "I was going to say intelligent."
A genuine, beautiful laugh escaped him — a sound so rare and unfiltered that Rosearia found herself mesmerized.
Then his smile slowly faded into a quiet, heavy melancholy. "She was the only person in the world who never treated me like the Crown Prince."
Rosearia’s heart softened. "She treated you like her son."
"Yes." His knuckles tightened slightly over his knees. "And after she died, everyone went right back to treating me like an heir. A weapon. A monster to be controlled."
Rosearia understood that suffocating isolation all too well.
Without thinking, she subtly shifted closer and rested her shoulder against his broad arm, offering her silent presence.
"You don’t have to be any of those things here," she murmured.
Adrian turned his head, his icy-blue eyes locking onto hers. "What am I supposed to be?"
"Just Adrian."
Slowly, deliberately, Adrian reached out, his long fingers finding hers on the soft grass.
Their fingers intertwined tightly.
"I think she would have liked you, Rose," he whispered.
Rosearia smiled teasingly. "You haven’t even told her anything about me."
"She wouldn’t need me to."
"How?"
"She always understood my heart better than I did."
Rosearia turned her eyes back toward the marble grave, a sweet warmth blooming in her chest.
Then—
Pain.
A sharp, violent agony suddenly tore through her skull like a jagged blade.
Her breath hitched sharply.
For one terrifying instant, the peaceful, sunlit clearing completely vanished from her sight.
In its place, she saw a nightmare.
Rain. Blood slicking the mud. Devastating screams echoing through darkness. A woman weeping hysterically. A shattered family kneeling around an open, unmarked grave.
And carved into the cold stone beneath the torrential rain was a dark, twisting symbol — the exact same shape as the assassin’s crest.
Rosearia gasped violently, her hand flying to her temple as her vision blurred.
"Rose!"
Adrian’s arm shot around her instantly, pulling her tight against his chest. "Rose! What’s wrong?"
"I’m fine..." she choked out, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as the terrifying vision dissolved as fast as it had arrived. Her chest heaved for air.
Adrian stared at her face, his expression laced with fierce, undeniable terror. "You aren’t fine. What happened? What did you see?"
Rosearia shuddered, looking up into his panicked eyes.
The crest. She had seen that damned crest carved over a grave in her forgotten past!
But whose grave was it? Why was her soul reacting so violently to it?
"I... I don’t know," she whispered, her voice trembling.
For once, that answer was completely honest.
Adrian didn’t force her for explanations. Instead, he pulled her closer, his thumb gently wiping a bead of cold sweat from her forehead.
"Then we’ll figure it out together," he swore, his deep voice ringing with absolute, protective authority.
Rosearia leaned into his chest, taking comfort in the heavy, rhythmic beat of his heart.
They remained beneath the ancient tree until the afternoon sun began to dip, painting the horizon in deep gold and violet.
Eventually, Adrian stood, pulling her smoothly up with him.
"I have to return to the palace," he said, his posture straightening as his imperial duties called him back. "The Crown Prince competition candidates are assembling by mid-day."
Rosearia nodded. "Go. I’ll like to take a walk through the outer glasshouse before heading back."
Adrian hesitated, his protective instincts flaring. "Don’t wander too far. The capital is dangerous right now."
A playful spark returned to her crimson eyes. "I have Snowball with me. I’ll be fine."
Adrian looked at the tiny, fluffy beast, thoroughly unconvinced, but he finally sighed and cupped her jaw, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. "I’ll see you at the fortress later."
Rosearia watched him mount his shadow-steed and ride away, her gaze lingering on his retreating back until he disappeared beyond the silver trees.
The private glasshouse in the outer imperial gardens was warm, fragrant, and bathed in twilight.
Crimson, pink, and white roses bloomed in endless, vibrant rows, their sweet scent thick in the humid air.
Rosearia walked slowly down the stone path, holding Snowball in her arms.
"It’s quiet here," she murmured, brushing her fingers against a petal.
"Too quiet," Snowball replied, twitching his ears. "I smell trouble."
Before Rosearia could ask what he meant—
"Boo!"