The Thirteenth Prince's Place

The next morning, I woke up early—not from some sense of responsibility or the looming dread of trials—but because, for some inexplicable reason, I couldn't stop thinking about breakfast.

You see, the royal dining hall was as grand as it was intimidating. The food was rich, decadent, and far beyond the simple meals I'd been used to in the Priesthood of Knowledge. It was almost... excessive. But you couldn't just ignore it.

When a platter of warm pastries is set before thee, what is a humble, food-loving prince to do but partake?

As I strode toward the dining hall, the weight of the day before still pressed upon me. The twelve heirs, adorned in their finery and titles, regarded me as one set apart—as if I were some strange thing among them. A priest amidst princes and princesses. How could one of no noble blood take a seat among them?

I should've been anxious and worried about what they'd say or think. But instead, I couldn't help but feel a little... amused. It was all so absurd. Here I was, the thirteenth prince, a complete outsider, and somehow the queen had put me here—not for my bloodline, but for something else. For my knowledge, my heart, and, well, for whatever reason she thought might be useful to her kingdom.

I stepped into the dining hall, scanning the room. The usual group was already seated. Prince Valtor was at the head of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the room as always. I swear he had this sixth sense for detecting the slightest ripple in the air.

"Ah, Aric. You're finally joining us," Valtor said with his signature smirk, his gaze never leaving the goblet in front of him. "Hope you weren't reading one of your precious books this time."

I grinned, the usual warmth bubbling in my chest despite the tension in the air. "No, I was thinking about the pastries, actually. Do you know the last time I had a real breakfast was when I wasn't trying to avoid being stabbed by a noble family member?" I smiled brightly, though I was sure Valtor saw right through me. He always did.

Valtor didn't react to my joke as expected. Instead, his expression hardened slightly, but I couldn't resist the urge to push him further. I wasn't going to back down in the face of his icy exterior—not when I could clearly see the cracks in the armor.

Before Valtor could respond, a soft voice broke through the tension.

"Good morning, Prince Aric," came a calm, welcoming tone. I turned to see Princess Elara, the youngest of the princesses, giving me a small but kind smile. She had the aura of someone who could calm storms with nothing more than a gentle word.

Her hair, a cascade of soft auburn waves, was tucked behind her ear as she met my gaze. There was something disarming about her—something warm, unlike the cold walls I faced with most of the others. In a room full of competing heirs, she was a refreshing change.

"Good morning, Princess Elara," I replied with a grin, my mood lifting instantly. It wasn't that I was particularly gloomy, but there was something about her presence that made everything feel... lighter. "I trust you slept well?"

"As well as can be expected in this strange new world of political posturing and royal feasts," she replied, her voice laced with just the slightest touch of humor. I wasn't sure if I imagined it, but I could swear there was a twinkle in her eyes.

I laughed, taking my seat beside her. "Oh, I know what you mean. I'm just waiting for the moment when someone tries to poison my breakfast."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You'd think they'd at least try to make it subtle."

"I have my suspicions," I said with a wink. "But I figure the nobles might prefer a slower method—like burying me in paperwork or drowning me in formalities."

Elara chuckled, the sound a melody in itself. "Perhaps they'll surprise you and just challenge you to a duel. Though I wouldn't recommend it. I hear Valtor has a rather impressive sword collection."

I glanced at Valtor, who had been staring silently at his food, no longer engaged in his usual games. He did, in fact, have a collection—every sword, every weapon in his possession was likely a testament to his superiority. He trained with them daily, and every fight and every skirmish was a step toward his ambition. He was the most favored heir. Everyone knew that.

"Not quite my style, I'm afraid," I replied, breaking the silence. "But I suppose I'd prefer to duel with my knowledge. A few well-chosen words could probably do more damage than any sword."

Elara gave me a knowing smile. "I imagine you're right. Though I suspect words won't be enough to win them over. And we both know they won't let you sit idle for long."

I could not but agree. This would be no simple contest, no matter how many tomes I studied nor how many hours I devoted to learning. Politics was a beast of its own making, cunning and treacherous. Yet something within me was set upon seeing it through—to prove my place not by birthright, but by knowledge, by the measure of who I was.

I turned my gaze back to Valtor. He had been watching the exchange between Elara and me, his dark eyes sharp, as always. And yet, for the first time, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something else there—something beneath the surface. Not just disdain, but something deeper. Something I couldn't quite name.

"Aric, you've learned to smile," Valtor said suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. "A little too much for my taste."

I chuckled, giving him a light shrug. "What can I say? It's my winning personality. You should try it sometime. Might even be fun."

Valtor gave a soft snort, but the tension around him seemed to loosen for the briefest of moments. He didn't reply, but his gaze lingered on me a little longer than usual.

It was... strange, I'll admit.

The conversation at the table continued, and I found myself distracted by the changing dynamics around me. But my thoughts always circled back to Valtor. There was something about him that drew me in like a magnet. His intensity, his power—it was a dangerous allure, one I had no right to be drawn to, but the pull was undeniable.

Still, I couldn't let it distract me. Not now. Not when I had everything to prove.

As the breakfast went on, Elara and I continued to chat lightly, a comfortable rapport developing between us. She was kind, genuine, and not at all like the other heirs, who seemed more interested in gaining favor with the queen or plotting their next move. She didn't seem to care about status as much, nor did she play the game of power quite like the others. There was a quiet strength in her—a confidence that didn't need to be shouted from the rooftops.

"Aric," she said, her tone thoughtful, "I know things are difficult, but don't lose your humor. Don't let them break you. If you can keep your smile, you'll find your way through it."

Her words felt like a balm, a reminder that I didn't have to play by their rules to win. I wasn't like them—and that was precisely what would make me stronger.

As we finished breakfast, the echoes of the queen's decree loomed overhead. The trials were beginning. But for the first time since I arrived in this palace, I felt the spark of hope. Not because I had everything figured out but because I had allies where I least expected them.

And maybe I had something that could change everything.

Valtor might have been the obvious heir, but I had my own destiny to forge. And I wouldn't let anyone—no matter how powerful—stand in my way.