CHAPTER 10:HIS SHADOWS WALK BEFORE HIM
They said the wind shifted when Prince Valen Draeven returned.
No horns. No parades. Just the quiet stir of rumors threading through the barracks like smoke—swift, silent, and inescapable.
"He's back."
"The prince?"
"I thought he was still in Solgrave…"
"They say he met with kings. Made them kneel."
I kept my head down, as always.
But I listened.
Because anyone with the title Prince held power. And anyone with power could recognize me.
---
Kael was sharpening her blade beside me when she said, without looking up,
"You'll want to stay invisible today."
I didn't ask why. I already knew.
Prince Valen was returning to the Draeven capital for the first time in nearly a year.
And Draeven did not forget its blood.
---
We saw the first sign of him before we saw him.
A small unit of soldiers in armor lined with silver-black threading, carrying the Draeven royal insignia on their shoulders. Not standard guard—elite. Chosen. Loyal only to him.
They entered the barracks yard just before midday, quiet and disciplined, their formation perfect. You could feel it—the difference.
Even Bastien stood straighter when he saw them.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "That's his shadow unit."
I swallowed. "Prince Valen?"
She nodded once. "He doesn't travel light. Or alone."
---
They said he'd studied politics in Virellia. That he'd once called Caelan Virellian "a snake dressed in gold."
That he never smiled. That he didn't need to.
And that he could read a room faster than a sword could cross it.
---
We weren't meant to see him.
Not yet.
But as fate would have it, the recruits were called to the training field for a demonstration drill—one that happened to align with the prince's arrival.
It wasn't a coincidence. Nothing in Draeven ever was.
Captain Ren stood at attention, more rigid than I'd ever seen him.
Then we heard the footsteps.
Not rushed.
Not heavy.
Measured.
Controlled.
When I looked up, he was already there.
Prince Valen Draeven.
Black cloak, high collar, ash-silver embroidery running along the hem like curling smoke. Hair tied back. Gloves on. Every inch of him screamed restraint, as if he was holding back the weight of an entire empire with one hand.
He didn't speak at first.
He just… watched us.
And when his eyes swept over the recruits, they paused.
On me.
Not long.
Not obvious.
But enough.
---
My heartbeat stuttered. I didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Those eyes weren't the same cold blue I'd seen on court paintings—they were sharper. Smarter. Tired of being underestimated.
He looked at me like he was searching for something.
And then—he moved on.
But Kael saw it.
"You know him?" she asked under her breath.
"No," I whispered.
But my hands felt colder than the wind.
"He looked at you like he did."
---
The drill continued.
But I barely registered it. Every movement, every turn of the sword felt distant.
Because something in his gaze had unsettled something I'd locked away.
Recognition.
Not full. Not certain. But real.
And that meant my time in the shadows was shrinking.
---
Later that evening, I slipped out to the edge of the courtyard to breathe. The frost had returned. My breath curled like smoke in the fading light.
I wasn't alone.
A figure stood beneath the stone archway that led toward the palace proper. Tall. Still. Cloaked in black.
Prince Valen.
He didn't approach. Just stood there, watching the recruits from a distance.
But when I turned to leave, I heard his voice. Calm. Low. Unmistakable.
"You hold your blade like someone taught by nobility."
I froze.
He didn't move.
And I didn't turn around.
"I've seen that grip before… in Virellia."
My breath caught.
Then—nothing. No footsteps. No accusation. Just silence.
When I turned back, the archway was empty.