One must understand thy enemies.

Under the dim candlelight, Gerald clenched his jaw as his aunt led him to the shadowed edge of the banquet hall. The laughter and murmurs from the hall faded as they stepped away from the crowds, leaving him alone with her simmering silence.

Then, with a sudden snap, her palm met his cheek. The slap left a sting that throbbed, each heartbeat fueling his fury as he glared at her, refusing to look away.

"What were you thinking?" she seethed, her voice low, fierce, full of barely contained rage.

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did? Disrespecting the prince… do you know what they call that?" Her gaze was a blade, cutting into him with each word. "Lèse-majesté. Are you so eager to throw away your life, Gerald?"

Holding his cheek, Gerald narrowed his eyes.

"The fourth prince was goading me. I could see it in his face, feel it in his words." He shook his head, voice thick with defiance. "I told you, I won't kneel to him. Not to him."