"Your brother has challenged your claim to the throne."
The Crown Prince’s silver knife stopped dead against his gold-rimmed plate.
A suffocating silence settled over the dining hall. The faint flicker of a hundred floating candles cast long, twisting shadows across the ceilings of the Royal Palace.
Adrian slowly raised his eyes, his icy-blue gaze locking onto his stepmother, Empress Giana.
"And my father?" Adrian asked, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"He is considering it."
"And you?"
Empress Giana calmly dabbed the corner of her crimson lips with a silk napkin, her dark eyes gleaming with suppressed malice. "I haven’t decided which son I would rather see wearing the crown."
Adrian’s jaw tightened, his sharp Lycan instincts humming beneath his skin. "Then I suggest you decide carefully, Stepmother."
A venomous smile touched her lips. "Oh, I already have." She picked up her crystal goblet, swirling the dark blood-wine within. "Your father and I finally agree on something."
His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "On what?"
"That a beast like you was never meant to wear the crown."
A low, dark chuckle rumbled from deep within Adrian’s chest. He relaxed back into his grand chair, crossing his arms. "I quite love a challenge."
Before Giana could respond, the grand double doors of the banquet hall swung open with a heavy thud.
"His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor!" a herald announced loudly.
Immediately, Empress Giana stood up, smoothing down her silk gown to project the image of a devoted, dignified empress. But Adrian didn’t move a muscle. He remained seated, sprawling back like a predator reviewing his territory.
Following close behind the Emperor were Adrian’s half-siblings—Callistius, holding himself with puffed-up pride, and his younger sister.
As Emperor Rhysand took his seat at the head of the table, Adrian picked up his fork and continued eating, completely ignoring the traditional royal greeting.
"You’ve got quite the nerve," Callistius spat from across the table, his eyes burning with jealousy. "Is it because you’re the Crown Prince that you think you can do whatever you want? Think carefully, brother... you can be replaced at any moment."
Adrian sliced through his steak with effortless precision, not looking up. "Well... certainly not by a nobody like you."
"What did you say, you half-blood filth?!" Callistius roared, slamming his palms against the table. Driven by blind rage, he grabbed his sharp steak knife and raised his arm to hurl it straight at Adrian’s face—
"Callistius, sit down."
A low, oppressive voice resonated through the hall, thick with suffocating power.
Callistius froze mid-motion, his face flushing with humiliation. Reluctantly, he lowered his arm and sank back into his seat, glaring daggers across the table.
Emperor Rhysand slowly turned his gaze toward his eldest son. His gold-flecked eyes were cold, unyielding, and utterly detached.
"You spend so much time hiding away in that grim fortress, Adrian," Rhysand said coldly. "One might think you’ve forgotten that a beast on the throne is only tolerated as long as he stays useful to the crown."
"What a useless son I am then," Adrian replied smoothly, setting his cutlery down with a soft clink. "Maybe I truly do not deserve the title of Crown Prince. But it is my birthright as the firstborn. So if anyone here wants to strip me of my title... they are going to have to try much harder."
Adrian stood up from the table, his broad frame easily towering over everyone in the room.
"If you will excuse me, I have actual matters to attend to," Adrian added, buttoning his crisp black jacket. "So tell me, Father... what is the real purpose of summoning me here?"
Rhysand leaned back, resting his chin on his gloved hand. "The Suncrest Empire has proposed an alliance. Their princess is renowned as the most beautiful maiden in the realm. In exchange, they demand your hand in marriage. I summoned you to inform you that a grand ball will be held tomorrow night. You will attend and acquaint yourself with her."
A cold, mocking smile touched Adrian’s lips. "Oh, Father... you really don’t know me at all. I have zero interest in political breeding. And even if I did, I will only accept the mate chosen for me by the Moon Goddess."
"Do you really think the Moon Goddess would bestow a true mate upon a beast like you?" Giana sneered.
Adrian didn’t waste a single breath acknowledging her. He bowed mockingly toward the Emperor. "If that is all, I shall take my leave."
Adrian paused at the grand archway, his back turned. "I will do so at my own convenient time."
Stepping out of the suffocating halls of the Royal Palace, the cool night air hit Adrian’s face, sweeping away the foul scent of hypocrisy.
Leaning casually against a marble pillar outside the courtyard was Aldric. His golden hair caught the faint moonlight, and a lazy smirk rested on his face.
"How long have you been waiting for me?" Adrian asked, descending the stone steps.
"Approximately two hours and three minutes," Aldric replied smoothly, tossing a golden coin in the air and catching it. "How was the family reunion?"
"Boring as always. But my father is trying to force a marriage alliance on me with the Suncrest Princess."
"Ah, her," Aldric purred, his golden dragon eyes glittering with wicked amusement. "Good luck with that one. Word in the high courts is that she’s as possessive as she is spoiled. But I doubt she has any idea what kind of monster she’s begging to marry."
Before Adrian could reply, a violent, jagged tear ripped through their shared soul link.
BZZZT!
The mental connection snapped open with terrifying force. Asmodeus’s voice echoed directly inside their minds—harsh, raspy, and stripped of its usual icy composure.
"Where the hell are you two?! Get back to the fortress NOW. Rose collapsed—she is burning up seriously, and her body can’t handle the strain!"
Adrian’s breath caught in his throat. In a fraction of a second, his calm demeanor shattered completely. His eyes flashed a blinding, feral icy-blue, and a deep, gut-wrenching growl ripped from his throat, terrifying the palace guards standing nearby.
"What did you do to her, Asmodeus?!" Adrian roared back through the mental bond, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned stark white. "I warned you not to lay a finger on her!"
"Something is trying to devour her mind from within!" Asmodeus spat back, his voice laced with rare panic. "Her pulse is fading. If you want her alive, bring a Silver Frost-Leaf to stabilize her soul before her magic burns her from the inside out!"
The link severed abruptly, leaving an echoing silence in their minds.
Aldric’s playful smirk instantly vanished, his golden eyes darkening into cold, dangerous slits. "A Silver Frost-Leaf? That herb is practically extinct. The only place in the capital that holds one is the dark vault of the High Witch in the black markets."
Adrian took one last deep inhale of the smoke pipe in his hand and said; "Then let’s pay the High Witch a visit."