"Ah, apologies, coming through!"

  "Go ahead." Micah stepped aside, allowing five servants to scurry past with green pine wreaths in hand.

  The palace had been in chaos for the last four days.

  Genise had been caught in a flurry of festivities for nearly a month, but the new year was always the grandest occasion. It marked the close of the year 779 and the arrival of 780 by the Adovorian calendar—the standard followed across both continents. And Adovoria held the honor of hosting the biggest celebration each year.

  As custom dictated, notable figures from every corner of the realm were invited to Genise for the festivities. While the event was festive on the surface, its true purpose lay in diplomacy: strengthening alliances, renewing favors, and forging new ones. It was similar to the Summer Banquet, only grander and with one chosen guest of honor each year, whom the crown was keen on maintaining an amicable relationship with.

  This year, the VIP guest was Prince Enon Daylan, the firstborn of Queen Yadana Daylan and the popularly presumed heir to the Daylan Dynasty.

  However, the honor was one-sided. Enon's visit was merely another stop on his continental tour, though persuading him to remain for the new year had been a political triumph for Adovoria. They had a full five days to persuade him on some issues and forge agreements.

  Attending to him, however, was not easy. His entourage was vast, his temper notorious, and his threats barely veiled. Everything, from the towels' placement to the temperature of the tea, had to be flawless. The royal staff were running themselves haggard, attending to every need of these obnoxious guests.

  However, there was little choice but to abide by their requests. Enon Daylan's crowning as King was practically guaranteed, and his mother was still very much the reigning Queen for many more years. And it was her potential wrath that everyone feared most.

  No one who had borne witness to her warring days wished to see such a sight ever again. The elders, including Adovoria's King, were more than willing to bow their heads and flatter till the night bells rang, if it would prevent igniting yet another continental war.

  And despite the arrogance thrown about by his entourage, the diplomatic side of matters was progressing quite smoothly.

  Micah smiled faintly as he entered the office he shared with Princess Evelyn and settled at his desk opposite hers. He unfurled a scroll and read the most recent reports regarding the talks and intel his people had gathered.

  Enon had the egotism that was hardly surprising for someone who would reign over the largest and most powerful nation on the continent. Moreover, he had earned his place as heir. Queen Yadana's requirements for her heir were neck-breakingly high, and Enon marked off every checkbox.

  He was well informed of all the matters taking place around the continent, had the backing of two powerful dukedoms within the Daylan Dynasty, and was an incredibly charismatic speaker whom the Daylan people loved. He even had a handsome face and the physique to match.

  Tsk.

  Micah's eyes paused on a line in the report.

  That's the second one in four days. And despite a guard being present this time. I should have suggested hiring professionals from the Red Lantern syndicate if he was going to behave this way.

  Micah massaged his jaw.

  Perhaps I still should, though it might cause issues if anyone ever found out. And being indebted to Dion will bite me back one day. But if it can prevent another assault on the staff…

  Enon may have had all the qualifications of a perfect ruler, at least on paper and as far as public perception went. But his actual character was dogshit.

  Micah flipped to the next page and reviewed the remaining intel that his people had gathered. However, the most offensive matters were on the first page.

  Click.

  "What is it?" Micah asked, opening his looking glass.

  "Master, did you receive the report?" a young man's voice came through.

  "Yes, I was about to finish reading it—what is it?" Miach asked.

  "There was a third incident. Just now.”

  Micah closed his eyes and sighed. "Please take care of them as well. Make sure they are well paid for their troubles—a month's wage."

  The maid and the attendant, victims of Enon's debauchery, were taken by Micah's people to get the proper treatment and care. It was a despicable position, to know what wrongs occurred, and yet instead of righting matters through thorough justice, only providing the aftercare to the victims. It was not how Micah liked to operate.

  But reality was cruel.

  He understood why the bedridden King of Adovoria turned a blind eye.

  The talks were going too well. Adovoria was gaining everything they had hoped to. But it all could easily sour at a misconstrued slight. And it was a fact that the Daylan Dynasty could wipe their kingdom off the map if they so chose. There was a precedent, with one small neighboring nation having been swallowed up into the Daylan Dynasty's fold just a few months back, as a result of Enon's wrath.

  It was a tightrope walk. And a kingdom weighed heavier than a handful of ruined lives.

  "Master, it wasn't a maid this time."

  Micah's mouth went dry at the implications. "Who—"

  However, he didn't finish.

  The door to the office flung open, and Princess Evelyn walked in.

  Micah snapped the looking glass closed, his full attention on her.

  The crown princess of Adovoria never cried. She had been raised in a den of wolves. Weakness was a luxury she couldn't afford.

  And yet… Micah had once wanted to see her cry. Just once. To see those iron walls break, to see her human and unguarded self before him. It would have been a sign that his attempts to woo her were working. But seeing her now—her eyes red, her face shaken—he regretted ever entertaining the thought.

  "Evelyn, what happened?" Micah inquired, his voice soft and cool, unlike the volcano bubbling inside. He remained seated, both hands clenched.

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  Evelyn raised her hands into almost a prayer, covering her eyes, nose and mouth.

  "What happened?" Micah asked, ever more gently.

  Her hands lowered just enough for him to see her eyes. They locked on his.

  "Enon."

  His short nails dug into his left palm.

  "He cornered me after the meeting for a private conversation," Evelyn's voice continued. "And—he grabbed me."

  Crack.

  The metal pen Micah was holding in his right hand snapped in half, the top piece clinking as it fell to the ground.

  "Nothing happened beyond that," Evelyn added quickly. "Julius re-entered and got me out of there."

  Micah's eyes bore a hole in the thin wrist that Evelyn was currently massaging. It was red.

  She sank into her chair, voice steady but thin, changing to one of pure business.

  "I was just startled. I'm fine now. I'm… just not sure how to proceed. There's the final dinner banquet to celebrate the new year, and I'm the crown princess—"

  "Call in sick," Micah cut in, with a plan already formed. "There have been reports of a deadly and disfiguring ailment plaguing some regions in East Genise, and you attended a function there yesterday afternoon. There'll be word spread of it soon. I'm certain everyone would understand and appreciate your absence."

  She looked at him, gratitude flickering across her face.

  Micah rose and crossed the room. He crouched beside her, close enough to see the faint tremor in her hands. He took the one with the red imprint into his own and held it gently.

  "Don't worry—I'll personally make sure there are no diplomatic issues," he said, his tone cool. He gave her a warm smile. "You can trust me."

  She smiled, finally. Relief was evident on her face. "Thank you, Micah."

  For a fleeting moment, he almost wished he could stay there, holding her hand, pretending they were only two people.

  But that was not his place, and he wasn't willing to push any further.

  This was unlike him.

  He had been carefully pursuing Evelyn for well over a year now, attempting to woo her in his steadfast pursuit of the crown that his ancestor had given up all too easily. He had replaced his mother as the Arkangul representative to the crown in a calculated move precisely to be in a position to do so, before Evelyn could be married off in some forged alliance. However, his every attempt hit a wall. A guard that Evelyn had up.

  He suspected the princess knew instinctively what he was attempting to do. She was far too clever not to realize the extent of his ambition. But she never pushed him away either, keeping him at arm's reach as a friend.

  And they had grown to be good friends, even. But that was the extent of their relationship that Micah was able to achieve.

  But now, he had an opportunity like no other. Evelyn's guard had finally evaporated around him. It was the perfect chance to win her over. He knew it instinctively. He couldn't have planned a better opening.

  Yet it felt wrong.

  And thus Micah rose, maintaining the mask over the storm burning under his calm exterior. He left the office and pulled out his looking glass.

  Click.

  "Yes, Master?" Seymour's raspy voice came through.

  "Get in touch with the other Daylan royals," Micah said quietly. "See who's willing to pay a price for the current heir to… withdraw from succession."

  Gone was the gentle voice. Micah's voice was cold as ice.

  "Very well. There have already been inquiries. I held off, since the delegations seemed to be going well."

  "That is no longer the case," Micah replied.

  To hell with the delegation. To hell with the old, dying King's caution.

  His jaw flexed.

  Trash should be disposed of like trash.

  Still, he had no intention of starting a war. Adovoria was too small and weak to survive against the great armies of the Daylan Dynasty.

  Micah's eyes caught sight of an enormous tapestry that hung on the hall's wall. It depicted the world map. A cluster of islands caught his eye, which had been… less than amicable to the Frey Merchant Guild's attempts at trade.

  Micah smiled.

  Ah. Two birds with one stone.

  "He'll be vacationing at the Soslan Islands in four or five months' time," Micah said. "That should be enough time to make the necessary preparations. Clean. Untraceable. And done."

  "Understood."

  ***

  "You're here." Evelyn's face brightened, catching sight of him in the palace gardens. "You've been coming by less frequently."

  "It's been a busy time," Micah replied.

  That was a blatant lie.

  The Noble Council vote and Summer Festival were a little over a month away, but the preparations for them were hardly consuming. Even his dealings in Laupia required little of his time. And his personal relationships were not taking up much time either as of late. Luca had been ignoring him for two months, and the rest of the family remained quietly resentful over his brother's absence from meals. In truth, he had more free time than ever before.

  He had been avoiding Evelyn.

  When the incident with Enon occurred, the anger that surged through him was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Evelyn hadn't suffered the same fate as the others, not by a long stretch, yet seeing her shaken had ignited a wrath so consuming it startled even him.

  He loved her.

  There was nothing else to it. Micah didn't even know when his own fabricated lie had transformed into the truth.

  And those emotions had made him reckless. For the first time in his life, ambition had faltered beneath something else.

  Getting rid of Enon Daylan had been an illogical choice, one dictated by emotion instead of reason. Despite all the precautions in place, his actions could easily have sparked war. Even in the best-case scenario, Adovoria gained little from Enon's death, given that every alliance hinged on his remaining alive and eventually ascending to the Daylan Dynasty's throne.

  But Micah had ignored it all. And worse, he knew he would do the same again if he were ever in the same position.

  "Ah, they're together again—"

  "Look, it's the Frey boy—"

  Micah caught the whispers. He had always been aware of the whispers surrounding him. He knew better than most, given that his syndicate's specialty was in intelligence gathering, only second to assassination.

  When he first courted Evelyn—no, courted her title—he hadn't cared about gossip and even welcomed it as a means to stir the kindles. But Evelyn had more to lose than he ever would. To drag her into his shadow meant dragging her through the mud. It wasn't fair. Now, having fallen for her, he realized it.

  "Let's go to my office," Evelyn said softly, motioning for him to follow. It was no longer their office; Micah had moved his desk weeks ago, a silent means to distance himself from her. "It's best we speak in private."

  "How serious." Micah smiled, though he suspected what this was about.

  The news should have come in.

  The door closed with a soft click. Evelyn turned to face him.

  "Enon Daylan was poisoned while vacationing at the Soslan Islands," she said. "He's dead."

  "How awful. What a tragedy," Micah replied, his tone dressed in concern, though his lips betrayed a faint smile.

  "You—" Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?"

  Micah merely smiled.

  "Perhaps."

  There was no point lying if he'd been found out.

  Besides, he had never lied to Evelyn. Not once. Even if his intentions had never been entirely noble.

  "You know," she said at last, shaking her head, "I've thought it for a while now, but you have a rather nasty personality."

  However, her words didn't seem like insults. Her smile made it evident there was no ill will.

  "Only rather?" Micah smiled back.

  "Just terrible," she corrected. "You've been chasing me for over a year, and now that you've finally succeeded, you turn your tail?"

  Her tone was teasing, and her hazel eyes alight with mischief.

  "You knew?" Micah asked, though he already suspected the answer.

  Of course, she knew.

  Evelyn pulled out her fan and tapped him lightly on the head with it. He didn't bother dodging it.

  "Did what I just say go completely over your head?" she asked. "I said you've succeeded. I know you've wanted the crown all this time. And I'm offering it to you right now."

  Was I really that transparent?

  "Are you proposing to me?" Micah asked.

  Not in a thousand projected outcomes had he anticipated this route.

  "No," Evelyn said, a smile curving on her red lips. "I'm accepting your proposal."

  "Proposal?" Micah raised a brow.

  There was something he was evidently missing.

  "Sure, there was no engagement ring," she said lightly, "but I have plenty of rings as is, so I presumed Enon Daylan's death was your proposal gift to me? Or was I wrong in that?"

  Her eyes twinkled in bemusement.

  Ah.

  Micah's smile sharpened.

  Even with all his reservations, he wasn't one to give up an opportunity when it was presented to him. On a gilded platter, no less.

  "You can," he replied. "Unless you find it rather unromantic?"

  "Unromantic?" Evelyn laughed, bright and unrestrained. "It's the most romantic gift I've ever received."

  That was his final thread of restraint.

  Micah moved toward her and drew her into his arms, their lips meeting in a deep, urgent kiss. He had imagined this exact scene many times, but it was always constrained to a mere fantasy. She was lighter than he expected as he lifted her easily, carrying her over to sit atop her desk.

  "There will be rumors," he murmured against her lips, "opposition, attempts to tear this apart—"

  "Oh, will you stop?" Evelyn cut him off, pulling away from him momentarily. "We'll figure it out."

  And then she silenced him with another kiss, fiercer than the last.

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