chapter 13 prophesied child

Ethan stood at Alexander's side, glancing cautiously at his friend. The serene glow of the half-moon bathed them in pale light, illuminating their sharp, chiseled features. Around them, a haunting contrast unfolded—burnt trees stood as solemn sentinels amidst hot charcoal and blackened debris, remnants of Alexander's unleashed fury.

"You don't have to be cautious around me, Ethan," Alexander finally said, breaking the silence with a heavy sigh.

Ethan hesitated, studying Alexander's tense posture. "What happened?" he asked, his voice careful but curious.

Alexander tilted his head toward the moon, his expression unreadable. "I've found the prophesied child," he said calmly, as though the words carried no weight.

Ethan's composure cracked, his eyes widening with shock. "What?" he blurted out, his voice rising. "How? Where?" He stepped in front of Alexander, panic flickering in his eyes. "Why are we standing here, Alex? Let's end this now—right now!" His voice was urgent, his concern evident. The prophesied child was the ultimate threat, one who could destroy Alexander's reign. Ethan couldn't bear to lose his closest friend.

Alexander's lips curved into a disdainful smirk. "Her?" he drawled, rolling his eyes. "It's not a 'her.' It's a 'him.' You've already seen him. In fact, you even pleaded for his life."

Ethan froze, taken aback by this revelation. "What?" he stammered, struggling to piece together what Alexander was saying. His mind reeled as he tried to recall the events of the evening. "You can't be serious…"

Alexander let out a soft chuckle, extending his hand toward the sky as if trying to grasp the moon itself. "Oh, I'm serious," he said, his voice tinged with mockery. "I am never wrong, Ethan."

"But—" Ethan began, his protests faltering as Alexander's words sank in. "What if you're mistaken?"

Alexander turned his gaze toward Ethan, his dark eyes narrowing. "I don't make mistakes," he said, his voice low and menacing. The air around him seemed to grow colder, despite the lingering heat of the charred forest. "Tomorrow, we'll complete our mission."

Ethan could only nod, reluctant to argue further. He watched as Alexander closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as though savoring the calm before the storm.

Yet, Alexander's thoughts were far from calm. The image of him lingered in his mind—the trembling figure, the wide, fearful green eyes that seemed too expressive for a man. His neck had felt too smooth, too delicate under Alexander's grip. And his scent—sweet, fresh, and utterly intoxicating—still lingered in Alexander's senses.

"What a waste," Alexander muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue. His brows furrowed as he pushed those thoughts aside. "Let's head back to the palace," he announced abruptly, turning on his heel.

Ethan lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the destruction Alexander had left behind. The blackened forest stretched out around them like a graveyard, smoke rising in soft wisps. "Poor trees," Ethan sighed dramatically, wiping at his eyes with mock sorrow. "Too bad you couldn't run for your lives."

"Ethan," Alexander called, his tone sharp.

"What?" Ethan shot back, catching up to his friend. "I'm just saying, not everyone is as heartless as you."

Alexander ignored him, striding purposefully back toward the palace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, at the Banquet

The music swelled as Prince Ezekiel led Emily back to her seat after their dance. Her red gown shimmered in the golden light of the chandeliers, the fabric clinging elegantly to her form. Yet, despite her polished exterior, there was a flicker of frustration in her eyes.

"Thank you for having this dance with me," she said, her voice laced with sweetness.

"The pleasure was mine," Ezekiel replied politely, offering a small bow. But his next words shattered her carefully crafted composure. "Why isn't your sister here tonight?"

Emily stiffened, the question striking a nerve. She forced a smile, masking the displeasure that flared in her chest. "She wasn't feeling well," she said, feigning concern. "Poor thing wasn't able to join us."

Ezekiel nodded, though his eyes held a glimmer of suspicion. "I would love the chance to meet her," he said softly, almost dreamily. His gaze drifted momentarily, as though lost in thought.

Emily's forced smile faltered. "Why are you so interested in my younger sister?" she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. She quickly added a coy smile, trying to mask her irritation.

Ezekiel's eyes refocused on her, his expression neutral. "I've always been curious about her," he admitted. "I've grown up knowing you, yet I've never had the opportunity to speak with her. You've always said she's too frail to attend events."

Emily's jaw tightened, but she kept her expression pleasant. Ezekiel, however, was already lost in his thoughts, his mind traveling back to a memory that had stayed with him for years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a perfect summer day. The sky was bright and clear, with birds flitting through the air and the scent of blooming flowers filling the garden. Ezekiel, still a boy then, had accompanied his father on a visit to Beta Mateo's estate.

Wandering through the garden, he had spotted her. A little girl with fiery red hair that gleamed like flames in the sunlight. She wore a simple blue dress, her green eyes sparkling with unbridled joy as she chased butterflies across the lawn.

Her laughter rang out like a melody, pure and infectious. He had watched her from afar, mesmerized. She had caught a pink butterfly on her hand, her face lighting up with delight as she brought it closer to admire its delicate wings. But when the butterfly flitted away, she ran after it, giggling with innocent determination.

It was then that calamity struck. In her euphoric chase, she had collided with her older sister, Emily, knocking her to the ground. Emily's cries of outrage had brought their father storming into the garden. Ezekiel had watched, helpless, as the little red-haired girl was scolded and punished for what had been an innocent accident.

Even then, something had stirred in Ezekiel's chest—a desire to protect her, to be the knight who would save her from the unjust world around her.

~~~~~~

"Prince Ezekiel?" Emily's voice jolted him back to the present. He blinked, realizing he had been silent for too long.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, offering her a polite smile. "If you'll excuse me, I must attend to the other guests." He bowed slightly and turned to leave before Emily could protest.

"Prince—" she started, but he was already gone. Frustration bubbled within her, her carefully laid plans slipping through her fingers. She clenched her fists under the table. "How is it always about Calista?" she muttered bitterly.

Rachel leaned closer, her sharp eyes narrowing. "How did it go? Were you able to make an impression on him?" she asked.

Emily shook her head, her smile bitter. "No, Mother," she admitted. "It was all about her."

Rachel frowned, her gaze darkening. Without a word, she activated her mind-link with Beta Mateo. "Execute Plan B," she instructed curtly. Mateo, standing across the room, gave a subtle nod in response.

The music quieted, signaling the next part of the evening's program. All eyes turned to the center of the hall as Prince Ezekiel stepped forward. It was time for him to choose a bride.