Prince Hielo finished lacing up his white leather boots. He made sure that his blue pants were tucked in neatly on all sides. After he secured his white belt and sword hilt, Hielo grabbed the patch of fabric that had his father's crest stitched into it. He tied it on, careful not to disturb the new bandages on his left eye. The assassin had failed, he reminded himself. The assassin had failed because he was a capable warrior. Part of his mind sparked a memory of pain. The dagger had entered through his pupil and nearly severed his life. Hielo had stopped it at the hilt and had used it to kill the attacker.
Hielo was capable.
His hand shook for a moment and he clasped them together on his vanity. The candelabra rattled. A hand reached out and steadied it.