Prince Aldric stood at the window of his private study, watching as festival nterns dotted the pace grounds like fallen stars. The celebration of his engagement continued below, but he had excused himself moments ago, citing the need to retrieve a ceremonial gift for his betrothed. In truth, he needed a moment alone with thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him on what should have been a triumphant evening.

  His reflection stared back at him from the darkened gss—high cheekbones, straight nose, and eyes the precise shade of twilight blue that had once belonged to his mother. Empress Cordelia's face, superimposed on a man's features. His father's living reminder of a woman he had been forced to marry and had grown to despise.

  Aldric turned away from the window, his gaze falling on a small portrait hidden in an alcove where servants were unlikely to notice it. Unlike the official pace portraits that depicted the First Empress in regal splendor, this miniature showed her as she truly was—gentle eyes crinkled with humor, a hint of mischief in her smile. The only image of his mother that captured the woman he remembered, not the imperial icon she had become in death.

  "You would ugh at all this pageantry," he murmured to the portrait. "You always said the real measure of a royal was how they behaved when the crowns were put away."

  A discreet knock interrupted his solitude. The door opened to reveal Lord Chancellor Thaddeus Mercer, his father's most trusted advisor and one of the few people at court who treated Aldric as more than a political piece on the imperial chessboard.

  "Your Highness," the older man greeted him with a bow that spoke more of genuine respect than protocol. "The fireworks dispy will begin shortly. The Emperor has noticed your absence."

  "Of course he has," Aldric replied, straightening his formal jacket. "Heaven forbid I miss a moment of this carefully orchestrated spectacle."

  Thaddeus closed the door and approached, his lined face serious. "I've served the imperial family since before your birth, Your Highness. May I speak frankly?"

  "When have you ever not?" Despite his mood, Aldric found a small smile for the man who had been more of a father figure than the Emperor ever managed.

  "Your attitude toward Lady Eleanora has changed remarkably in recent weeks. The Emperor has noticed this as well."

  Aldric's jaw tightened. "My father notices everything except what truly matters."

  "He believes you've developed genuine feelings for your betrothed. This... concerns him." Thaddeus's careful phrasing couldn't disguise the warning beneath.

  "Because emotional attachment is weakness?" Aldric reached for a decanter of amber liquid, pouring a measure into a crystal gss. "Or because I'm once again failing to be the perfect, calcuting crown prince he demands?"

  "Because it reminds him of himself, before politics poisoned his own marriage," Thaddeus said quietly.

  The unexpected response froze Aldric with the gss halfway to his lips. "My father never loved my mother. The match was arranged to end the border conflict with the Northern Kingdoms. He's made that abundantly clear throughout my life."

  Thaddeus sighed, suddenly looking every one of his seventy years. "History is rarely as simple as the narratives we construct from it, Your Highness."

  "Speak pinly, Lord Chancellor. I've had enough diplomatic nguage for one evening."

  The older man moved to the window, gazing out at the festival lights. "Your father and mother were indeed matched for political reasons. What few know is that in their early days, they formed a genuine attachment despite the circumstances. Emperor Theodoric was not always the hard man you know. He was once capable of great tenderness."

  Aldric set down his untouched drink, memories stirring of fragments he'd glimpsed in childhood—his father's hand lingering on his mother's, shared gnces that held private meanings, rare moments of unguarded ughter.

  "What happened?" he asked, though part of him already knew.

  "Court politics. Your maternal grandfather used their bond to manipute imperial policy. When your father discovered this betrayal, the damage was irreparable. He came to see their love as a weakness that had been weaponized against him and the empire." Thaddeus turned back to face Aldric. "By then, your mother was with child—with you."

  The revetion nded like a physical blow. "So I'm not merely a reminder of a woman he was forced to marry. I'm the living embodiment of his greatest political mistake."

  "You are the son of both your parents," Thaddeus corrected firmly. "You have your mother's face and compassionate heart, yes. But you also possess your father's strategic mind and strength of will—qualities he recognizes even if he cannot bring himself to acknowledge them."

  Aldric paced the length of the study, decades of coldness and criticism suddenly cast in a new light. Not simple resentment, but a complex tangle of betrayal, loss, and regret—emotions his father had never learned to process, only to bury beneath imperial authority.

  "And now he sees history repeating itself," Aldric concluded. "My unexpected interest in Eleanora threatens his carefully arranged pns."

  "The Emperor approved your match with Lady Eleanora Bckwood because her family's shipping connections are vital to our trade negotiations with the Eastern Realms. He expected a partnership of political convenience, nothing more." Thaddeus hesitated before adding, "The change in Lady Eleanora since her accident has not gone unnoticed. Nor has your response to that change."

  Aldric thought of Eleanora as she had been before—beautiful and accomplished, certainly, but calcuting in a way that had left him cold despite her obvious charms. The woman who had emerged after her fall was different in subtle but profound ways. Her newfound honesty had caught him off guard, her genuine curiosity about him as a person rather than a crown had been... refreshing.

  "She confessed to me today," he said abruptly. "About her original motivations for pursuing our match. About the letters detailing her strategies."

  Thaddeus raised an eyebrow. "That was... unexpected."

  "Precisely." Aldric found himself smiling despite the weight of their conversation. "The old Eleanora would never have risked such vulnerability. She would have eliminated threats without exposing herself."

  "And this new candor appeals to you."

  It wasn't a question, but Aldric answered anyway. "I've spent my life surrounded by people wearing masks, myself included. Someone willing to remove theirs is... rare."

  A chime echoed through the pace, signaling five minutes until the fireworks dispy. Thaddeus moved toward the door, then paused.

  "Your father will not make it easy for you to form a genuine bond with Lady Eleanora. He believes he is protecting you from his own mistakes." The old advisor's expression softened with unusual emotion. "But having watched you grow from a solemn child into the man you are today, I believe you deserve more than a political partnership."

  After Thaddeus departed, Aldric retrieved the small jeweled box that contained his official betrothal gift—an ancient imperial tradition. Inside nestled a golden pendant bearing the royal seal, signifying Eleanora's acceptance into the imperial family.

  Beside it, he had pced something else—a small, pressed violet preserved between crystal panes. One of his earliest memories was of his mother tucking such a flower behind his ear, telling him that violets represented faithfulness and that someday he would give one to someone who saw beyond his title to the person beneath.

  For years, he had assumed that memory was a child's fantasy, a story he had created to fill the void left by her death when he was only six years old. Now, he wondered if it had been real after all—a mother's hope for her son to find what she had briefly found and lost.

  Closing the box, Aldric straightened his shoulders and prepared to return to the festival. The prince who emerged from the study wore the perfect mask of imperial dignity, but beneath it, his thoughts remained in turmoil.

  The fireworks dispy had just begun when Aldric rejoined the gathering. Brilliant explosions of color illuminated the night sky, casting fleeting shadows across the faces of the assembled nobility. He found Eleanora where he had left her, standing with his father and the foreign dignitaries on the imperial viewing ptform.

  "Ah, my son returns," Emperor Theodoric announced, his tone pleasant for the benefit of their guests while his eyes conveyed clear displeasure at Aldric's absence. "Just in time to present his betrothal gift."

  Aldric bowed formally to his father before turning to Eleanora. In the intermittent light of the fireworks, she appeared almost otherworldly—her features alternately illuminated and shadowed, the amber stones in her circlet catching fire with each burst of light.

  "Lady Eleanora," he began, following the ancient ceremonial words, "as a token of our betrothal and your acceptance into the imperial family, I present you with this symbol of our future union."

  He opened the jeweled box, revealing the imperial pendant. As tradition demanded, he lifted it and pced it around her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin in a touch that sent an unexpected current through him.

  What wasn't traditional was the second item he removed from the box. Murmurs rippled through the watching crowd as he held up the preserved violet.

  "And as a personal token," he continued, deviating from the script, "I offer something of significance to my family's history and my own heart—a reminder that behind titles and duties exist two people who might, with time and trust, discover a genuine connection."

  Eleanora's eyes widened slightly as she accepted the unexpected gift, understanding passing between them that this was no pnned part of the ceremony. "I am honored by both tokens, Your Highness," she replied, her voice steady despite the surprise. "And I shall treasure what each represents."

  Emperor Theodoric's expression had frozen into a mask of perfect diplomatic neutrality that Aldric recognized as barely controlled anger. The deviation from tradition, however small, was a public statement—one his father would certainly address in private ter.

  As the fireworks reached their crescendo, bathing the entire pace grounds in cascading light, Aldric noticed a subtle movement in the shadows beneath the viewing ptform. Years of training in threat assessment sharpened his focus, allowing him to detect what others missed—a figure moving with deliberate purpose rather than festival revelry, the gleam of metal briefly exposed by a particurly bright explosion.

  Without drawing attention, Aldric shifted his position slightly to pce himself between Eleanora and the approaching threat. He caught the eye of Commander Reed, who stood at attention nearby, and gave the nearly imperceptible signal they had established for potential danger.

  Reed nodded once, immediately dispatching two guards with a subtle gesture. They moved casually through the crowd, closing in on the suspicious figure from different angles.

  "Is something wrong?" Eleanora asked softly, noticing the change in his demeanor despite his efforts to maintain a calm appearance.

  "Continue smiling," he instructed under his breath. "We may have an unwelcome guest."

  To her credit, Eleanora's expression betrayed nothing of the warning as she turned to answer a question from the Duchess of Westmere. Aldric watched from the corner of his eye as Reed's men intercepted the shadowy figure, only to have the person break away and dash toward a service entrance.

  The commotion was brief and contained, drawing little attention from the enraptured crowd watching the fireworks finale. Within moments, Commander Reed approached the imperial ptform, bowing deeply before leaning in to whisper to the Emperor.

  Theodoric's expression darkened, but he maintained his public composure, merely nodding once before returning his attention to their guests. Only those who knew him well would recognize the dangerous glint in his eyes.

  When the fireworks concluded and the guests began to disperse toward various entertainments throughout the pace grounds, the Emperor pced a hand on Aldric's shoulder with seemingly paternal affection. His grip, however, was like iron.

  "The Eastern Wing. Now," he murmured before turning to offer gracious farewells to the visiting dignitaries.

  Aldric caught Eleanora's questioning gaze. "Court business," he expined quietly. "Please continue enjoying the festivities. I'll return as soon as possible."

  She nodded, though concern lingered in her eyes. "Be careful," she whispered, a simple phrase that somehow conveyed she understood more than he had explicitly told her.

  The Eastern Wing housed the Emperor's private council chambers, rooms where matters too delicate for the regur court were discussed. As Aldric made his way there, he noted the increased guard presence throughout the pace—subtle but unmistakable to his trained eye.

  Commander Reed awaited him outside the heavy oak doors of the innermost chamber. "We captured him, Your Highness. He was carrying this." The commander held up a small crossbow designed to be concealed within a sleeve—a sophisticated assassination tool.

  "Who sent him?"

  "He's not speaking yet," Reed replied grimly. "But he wears the mark of the Silent Hand."

  Aldric's blood ran cold. The Silent Hand was no ordinary group of assassins. They were rumored to work exclusively for members of royal and noble houses, their services so expensive that only the wealthiest and most powerful could afford them.

  "Has my father been informed?"

  "Yes, Your Highness. He's inside with the prisoner now."

  The implication was clear. Emperor Theodoric's methods of extracting information were effective, if not particurly humane. Aldric had witnessed such interrogations before, part of his education in the harsher realities of ruling an empire.

  Steeling himself, he pushed open the doors to find his father standing over a bound man whose defiant expression suggested he had not yet broken under questioning.

  "Leave us," the Emperor commanded the guards present. As they filed out, he turned to Aldric. "It seems someone wishes to prevent your marriage quite desperately."

  "The Silent Hand doesn't accept contracts against imperial family members without significant payment and protection guarantees," Aldric noted, circling to study their prisoner. "This was no common disgruntled noble."

  "Indeed." The Emperor's voice was dangerously soft. "Which is why I find the timing particurly interesting, coming so soon after your uncharacteristic dispy of sentimentality."

  Aldric met his father's gaze directly. "You believe there's a connection?"

  "I believe," Theodoric replied, "that when a crown prince who has always understood his duty suddenly begins acting on emotion rather than reason, it creates opportunities for enemies to exploit perceived weakness."

  The accusation stung precisely because it contained a kernel of truth. Aldric had allowed himself to be distracted by his changing feelings toward Eleanora, perhaps missing signs that might have prevented this attempt altogether.

  "The threat was real regardless of my personal conduct," he countered. "Lady Eleanora's accident was likely orchestrated by the same forces."

  "A theory I'm inclined to agree with," his father said, surprising him. "Which is why I've already sent men to secure Lady Bckwood's family and their estate. Whoever targets your betrothed likely seeks to destabilize more than just your personal happiness."

  The prisoner watched their exchange with calcuting eyes, his silence more telling than any protestation of innocence might have been.

  "Commander Reed believes Lord Harlow may be involved," Aldric said, "though not as the primary instigator."

  "Harlow cks both the funds and the connections to engage the Silent Hand." The Emperor shook his head. "He's a pawn, not a pyer."

  "Then who stands to benefit most from disrupting this match?" It was a rhetorical question, one that both men had been considering since the first attempt on Eleanora.

  The Emperor studied his son for a long moment before speaking. "You have your mother's eyes," he said abruptly, the non sequitur nding like a physical blow. "Her way of seeing beneath the surface of things."

  Aldric remained silent, uncertain how to respond to this unprecedented reference to his mother.

  "She would have approved of your betrothed's transformation," Theodoric continued, his voice taking on a quality Aldric had never heard before—something almost resembling wistfulness. "Cordelia always maintained that character revealed itself most clearly in moments of crisis."

  "You never speak of her," Aldric said carefully.

  "Because remembering brings pain along with the crity," his father replied with unexpected frankness. "A lesson you would do well to consider as you contempte forming attachments that go beyond political advantage."

  Before Aldric could respond, the prisoner suddenly lunged forward despite his bonds, revealing a small bde concealed in his sleeve that had escaped their search. The Emperor stepped back smoothly, avoiding the desperate strike with practiced ease, while Aldric moved forward to subdue the man.

  In the struggle, the assassin managed to turn the bde toward himself, driving it upward beneath his ribs with practiced precision. His eyes met Aldric's as he gasped his final words: "The forgotten queen sends her regards."

  Blood spread across the man's tunic as he colpsed. Aldric called for guards, but it was immediately clear that their prisoner was beyond saving—and beyond questioning.

  "The forgotten queen," the Emperor repeated, his face draining of color. "No. It's not possible."

  Aldric had never seen his father shaken before. "What does it mean?"

  Theodoric's gaze seemed focused on something distant, memories perhaps that Aldric couldn't access. "It means, my son, that our understanding of the threat is woefully incomplete. And that your betrothed may be in far greater danger than we realized."

  "From whom?"

  The Emperor straightened, his momentary vulnerability vanishing beneath imperial authority. "From someone I believed long dead. Someone with every reason to destroy what I value most." His eyes met Aldric's with unexpected intensity. "Someone who knows that despite my best efforts to prevent it, you have become exactly that."

  As guards rushed in to remove the dead assassin, Aldric struggled to process his father's words. Had the Emperor just admitted, however obliquely, that he cared for his son? And who was this "forgotten queen" who apparently threatened them both?

  "Return to the festival," his father commanded, already turning to issue orders to Commander Reed. "Stay with Lady Eleanora. Do not leave her side for any reason."

  "Father," Aldric began, needing answers to the questions swirling in his mind.

  "Later," the Emperor cut him off, though without his usual harshness. "Protect your betrothed now. We will speak of the past when the present danger has been addressed."

  As Aldric made his way back to the festival, his thoughts divided between concern for Eleanora's safety and the revetions of the past hour, one truth became clear: the simple political marriage he had resigned himself to had become something far more complicated—and potentially far more meaningful than he had ever allowed himself to imagine.

  The question that remained was whether either of them would survive long enough to discover what it might become.