Three hundred leagues away, deep within the hollowed-out stone cellars of the Sky-Crest Citadel, the air was cold and smelled of damp rock.
Prince Kenneth sat on a stone bench, his hands bound in heavy, magic-suppressing iron-scale chains that grounded out his earth-mana before it could reach his muscles. His golden armor had been stripped away, leaving him in a torn linen tunic. Yet, his gaze remained fiercely locked onto the teenage boy sitting opposite him on a wooden crate.
Kaelen was casually paring an apple with a small obsidian dagger, his legs crossed, his signature smirk entirely intact.
"You won a single skirmish, Kaelen," Kenneth spat, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "The Empire has resources you can't even fathom. My legion will reform. Kian will find a way to poison your water supply. You cannot hold a nation with a handful of outcasts."
"I'm not holding it with outcasts, Ken," Kaelen said smoothly, tossing a slice of apple into his mouth. "I'm holding it with leverage. Your father just signed the treaty. As of this morning, I am officially a Sovereign."
Kenneth froze, his jaw dropping slightly as the reality of his defeat finally cracked through his stubborn pride. "He... he bent to a rebel?"
"He bent to a better option," Kaelen corrected, standing up and stepping closer to the iron bars. His blue eyes flashed with a sudden, razor-sharp intensity that made Kenneth instinctively tilt his head back. "But while we're waiting for the border guards to pack their tents, let's talk about Kian. He didn't send a legion, but he sent Lady Vivienne. She was very interested in my core."
Kaelen leaned against the iron bars, his voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "Sylvia has been tracing Kian’s letters. He has a secret layout of spies inside my western territories. Names, Kenneth. Give me the names of his hidden eyes, and I’ll let you leave this cage with both your ears."
Kenneth stared at his younger brother. He hated Kaelen’s arrogance, but he hated Kian’s quiet, backstabbing diplomacy even more. If he returned to the capital empty-handed while Kian’s web remained intact, Kian would rule the court unchallenged.
"The merchant guilds," Kenneth whispered, his voice hollow as he leaned forward, his chains rattling in the dark. "Three of the major caravan masters in the Western Pass are on Kian’s payroll. They don't just carry silk, Kaelen. They carry tracking stones. They are mapping your dragon roosts."
Kaelen’s smirk widened, turning cold and sharp. He turned his back on the cage, walking toward the wooden stairs where Sylvia’s shadow was already waiting.
"Thanks for the tip, big brother," Kaelen called back over his shoulder, his fingers catching a spark of azure electricity. "Enjoy the mountain venison. I hear it’s fantastic