Chapter 12: The Report

Prince Cassius Aurelius stood in the palace training yard, his sword clashing against steel as he sparred with one of his commanders. The rhythmic sound of blades meeting filled the crisp morning air, the scent of sweat and metal lingering.

But Cassius was distracted.

His grip on his sword tightened, his movements sharper, more aggressive. Amara. Ever since the moment he laid eyes on her, she had consumed his thoughts—the fire in her gaze, the sharpness of her tongue, the way she did not fear him.

He had tried to shake her from his mind. Tried.

But nothing had worked—not the company of his mistresses, not the brutal training sessions, not even the endless political meetings his father forced upon him.

She was a force unlike any other.

And now, she was here.

Cassius swung his blade in a final, powerful arc, knocking his opponent back. But before he could reset, a voice called out from behind him.

"Your Highness."

He turned to see Captain Darius Vale, his closest friend and most trusted guard, standing at the entrance of the training yard.

Cassius wiped the sweat from his brow, tossing his sword aside. "What is it?"

Darius hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "Princess Amara and Prince Zayid arrived at the palace earlier today."

Cassius's expression darkened. "They were summoned, yes."

Darius crossed his arms. "You should know—your father did not welcome them kindly."

Cassius's jaw clenched. Of course, he didn't.

"Go on," he ordered.

Darius sighed. "Prince Zayid is as reckless as always. He did not bow, did not show any form of respect."

Cassius smirked slightly. That sounded exactly like Zayid.

"But Princess Amara…" Darius paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "She faced the king without fear. When he questioned her worth, she turned it around—asking what Aurelia could offer her instead."

Cassius raised an eyebrow. "She said that?"

Darius nodded. "And when the king told her boldness does not make a queen, she told him, 'Neither does fear.'"

Silence.

Cassius's pulse quickened.

The corner of his lips twitched into a smirk, amusement and admiration flickering in his icy blue eyes.

"She truly does not know how to submit, does she?"

Darius exhaled. "No. She does not."

Cassius turned away, his mind racing.

His father must be seething.

But Cassius… he was intrigued.

"She is still in the council room?" he asked.

Darius nodded. "Yes. With Zayid."

Cassius's smirk faded. Zayid. The thought of Amara sitting next to that carefree bastard made his blood boil.

Without another word, he turned on his heel, grabbing his royal cloak and fastening it around his shoulders.

"Prepare the throne room."

Darius frowned. "For what?"

Cassius's eyes darkened.

"I will speak to my father myself."