24

Prince Gerald shot upright in bed, chest slick with sweat. The room was quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of the curtains as a breeze slipped through the open window. Moonlight filtered through the narrow window, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. The silence pressed in, uneasy and hard to ignore.

He scanned the room with narrowed eyes. Something was off. For a moment, he couldn't tell whether it had been a sound or a sudden instinct that woke him—but whatever it was, it had his senses on high alert.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Gerald pulled his shirt from the back of a chair and slid it over his head in one practised move. Moving quietly, he walked across the room, his bare feet making no sound against the cool floor. He paused by the door, listening.

Nothing.

In his world, nothing meant danger. He eased the door open and stepped into the hallway, where dim lanterns flickered along the hallways. The floor creaked beneath his weight, but that was the least of his concerns. He trusted the building enough to know it won't be crashing down on him anytime soon.

His feet took him to Gwen's door almost before he realised it. It was ajar. He stared at it. "Foolish woman," he muttered under his breath and pushed the door open just enough to peer inside.

Gwen was sound asleep, curled beneath her blanket with one arm dangling over the edge of the mattress. Her face was peaceful, her breathing slow and even. Gerald exhaled softly through his nose. 

He considered waking her—just to scold her for her carelessness—but decided against it. She would probably give him an earful of how heartless and manerless he was in return, half-asleep and sharp-tongued. Shaking his head, he closed the door with a soft click and turned away.

That's when he felt it again—the presence. Someone was watching him from the shadows. He turned around but didn't see anyone. "How disappointing," He muttered under his breath and began walking.

He didn't quicken his pace. Instead, he strolled as if unconcerned, folding his hands behind his back. His head tilted slightly as he began to whistle. A slow, lazy tune that echoed lightly through the hall.

He stopped short when he reached his room. The door was slightly open. He hadn't left it that way.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well," he said softly to himself, "What a generous evening." He didn't step in immediately, instead, he waited for a full minute and then pushed the door open with one swift motion, stepping inside.

A blade sliced toward him from the shadows. He ducked to the side, effectively escaping the cold arms of death. He grabbed the edge of the bedpost and yanked his sword free just in time to block the assassin's attack. 

"Bit bold, aren't you?" Gerald asked coolly. "Do people not knock anymore?" The man snarled and pressed the attack. He was strong, aggressive, and wild. His intention was clear as day—to kill without mercy. The instructions must have been very clear.

"You're a decent assassin. I'll give you that. " Gerald sidestepped and attacked. The intruder blocked it—barely. Angry, the man lunged again. Gerald spun, stepped in close, and rammed the hilt of his sword into the man's jaw, causing the man to stagger back and groan

"Assassinating a prince?" Gerald asked lightly, lifting a brow. "A bold move. Who sent you?"

The man gave a thin, humourless smile mixed with blood and replied, "Someone with deep pockets."

Gerald sighed. "Always about coin these days. So, you won't tell me who sent you?"

"I was instructed to do that only when you are taking your last breath. It's supposed to be a surprise, Your Highness." The man replied smugly

"I don't like surprises," Gerald said. "You picked the wrong man to assassinate." With one clean motion, he drove his blade into the man's side.

The man gasped, eyes going wide. Gerald shoved him off, letting him fall to the floor with a loud thud. "Next time," he muttered, "Do your homework."

He didn't even get a second to breathe as the window shattered behind him. Gerald turned as three figures leapt into the room, boots landing with heavy thuds on the floor. "Really?" Gerald said, exasperated. "You brought friends?"

They charged, and so did Gerald. Steel rang through the air. He blocked, struck, spun, and ducked—his body a blur. One man went down with a cry. Another took a blade across his ribs, which sent him to the arms of waiting death.

The third lasted longer. "You're persistent," Gerald grunted as he dodged a wild swing from the giant.

The man grinned. "You're not half as good as the stories, Your Highness." 

Gerald's eyes darkened. "That so?" He sidestepped, caught the man's arm, and twisted enough to make the big man cry out in pain. The bone snapped with a sickening crack. "I guess you didn't ask your friends how that story ends." He brought the hilt of his sword down across his temple.

The door creaked open, and a woman stepped into the room. She wasn't armed. Her steps were slow and deliberate. She wore a hooded cloak, and her eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. 

"A woman? Oh, come on, they can do better." He asked, eyes narrowing into slits. "I don't assume you are here to seduce me?" He asked as his hands tightened around the sword, ready for the worst.

The woman didn't answer, but there was a sudden, strange shift in the room as the air grew thick. The ground vibrated subtly under the lady's ministration.

"Who are you?" Gerald asked as the lady's hands moved faster. Smoke began to rise, coiling toward him.

"Your Highness!" Rob burst through the door, sword drawn and ready to strike.

The lady froze. Her trance was shattered. She looked up, startled, like a deer caught in a snare. She turned and bolted toward the window, but Gerald didn't hesitate, and with two quick flicks of his wrist, daggers flew—one struck her in the back and the other buried itself in her thigh. She screamed, staggering backwards before falling on her knees. 

Rob quickly stepped into the room and examined the bodies. "One man and the witch are still alive. Do you want them alive or dead?" Rob asked. 

"Alive, of course," Gerald replied, eyes taking in the chaos. "I need answers." 

Without waiting to be told twice, Robert knocked the lady out cold and turned towards Gerald. "I am sorry for not coming on time, Your Highness."

Gerald waved him off. "It was rather... entertaining for me. Clean up the mess." 

Rob raised an eyebrow. "You want them both taken to the cells?" 

"No, not yet," Gerald said. "Keep them somewhere quiet and hidden. No one is to know."

Rob nodded. "Understood." As Rob began dragging the bodies, Gerald moved to the window. He leaned against the frame, arms folded. 

Someone had sent assassins. 

And a witch to him. He smiled to himself, slow and bitter. "Took them long enough." Whoever had sent these attackers had planned carefully.