Prince Caelen

Prince Caelen of Solis possessed a rare gift. He could smile at a furious minister, deliver a quick compliment, and walk out of a room before anyone realized he was gone.

It was a useful skill. The grand lords of the empire were currently jammed into the west council chamber, shouting about tax quotas and winter stores.

Caelen sat on the edge of the open window frame. He adjusted the cuffs of his white tunic. He tapped his boots against the stone floor, waiting for his chance to slip away.

Statecraft was dry. Politics was tedious. Marriage was a trap.

Unfortunately, he was running out of space to run.

Six months ago, the war along the northern border had ended in a mess of blood and ash. Emperor Alden had survived, but barely. His body was broken, and his health faded a little more each week.

The Council of Elders had laid down a strict law. Caelen could not take the throne as Emperor without an Empress standing by his side.

He had four days.

Four short, agonizing days to pick a wife.

If he failed before sunset on the fourth day, the court would pick someone for him. The thought made his stomach turn.

Caelen liked his freedom. He liked quick flirtations and quiet exits. He did not like binding oaths or political chains.

"Your Highness," Lord Cassian droned, unrolling a heavy sheet of parchment. "The shipping rates for the eastern ports require your immediate signature."

Caelen stood up and offered his warmest grin.

"An essential matter, Lord Cassian. Truly vital. I shall review the numbers in detail from the quiet of my private chambers."

He did not wait for an answer.

He slipped past the velvet curtain behind the dais. He ducked into a narrow service passage, using a route he had mapped out as a child. Within seconds, the heavy air of the council hall was behind him.

He moved through the quiet corridors of the citadel without making a sound. He knew every loose floorboard, every guard rotation, and every forgotten door.

A moment later, he pushed through an old oak door and stepped into the Grand Solis Gardens.

The air out here was cool and rich with the smell of wet soil and blooming jasmine. Marble paths cut through high green hedges, leading toward stone fountains that caught the afternoon light.

Caelen took a deep breath and let his shoulders drop.

"No ministers," he whispered, resting his hand on his belt. "No tax ledgers. No solemn talk of duty."

"You celebrate early, Prince Caelen."

He turned toward the sound of the voice.

Standing near the edge of a circular marble pool was Princess Aurelia of Veridian.

She wore a long dress of deep violet and dark green. Her dark hair was pinned back with simple silver clips, and she was holding a yellow rose she had just plucked from a bush.

She did not look surprised to see him. Her eyes were sharp, holding a quiet, amused spark.

"Princess Aurelia," Caelen said, dropping into a quick, low bow.

He stood back up, offering his usual easy smile.

"I am flattered. Did you really wander all the way out here just to look for me?"

Aurelia twirled the stem of the rose between her fingers.

"Do not flatter yourself, Caelen. I was exploring the grounds. I had no idea the famous prince was hiding behind the roses."

"Hiding is a strong word," Caelen said, walking over to the edge of the fountain. "I prefer to call it a tactical retreat. It is an essential skill for survival."

"It looks like running away," Aurelia said, her lips curving into a brief smile. "Though you do it with a good deal of practice."

"I try my best," Caelen said, leaning back against the cool marble of the pool. "If you are taking a tour of the palace grounds, I could show you around. My fee is light. Just a single smile from a visiting princess."

Aurelia stepped closer, her eyes watching him carefully.

"A tempting offer. But I hear your tours usually end with angry guard captains searching for an empty throne."

"Only on Thursdays," Caelen said with a quick wink.

Before Aurelia could answer, the quiet peace of the garden was broken.

The heavy, measured thud of armored boots sounded along the stone path. Right behind came the fast, dry rustle of silk skirts.

Caelen let out a quiet sigh.

"And there goes the peace."

Captain Valerie rounded the corner first. Her silver breastplate gleamed in the sunlight, and her gloved hand rested flat against the hilt of her longsword. Her face was set in its usual hard, unreadable line.

Beside her walked Lady Genevieve. She wore a heavy red gown, her sharp eyes fixing instantly on Caelen. She carried a thick leather folder packed tight with official papers.

"Prince Caelen," Valerie said, her voice dry and firm. "You left the council briefing forty minutes before the schedule concluded."

"Captain Valerie," Caelen said smoothly. "The armor suits you today. Did you have the steel polished again?"

Valerie did not react.

"Compliments will not clear your schedule, Your Highness. We have checked three separate wings looking for you."

Genevieve stopped right beside the fountain, her silk dress rustling against the stone.

"Running to the garden changes nothing, Caelen. The four day summit is active. You cannot spend your afternoon avoiding responsibility with foreign guests."

Genevieve gave Aurelia a quick, cold look. Aurelia merely held her ground, her expression remaining entirely calm.

"Ladies, please," Caelen said, holding his hands up slightly. "There is plenty of time left today. No need to turn a walk in the garden into a trial."

Valerie pulled a small, sealed scroll from her leather belt and opened it with a short, practiced snap.

"We are not here to debate," Valerie said. "We are delivering the final rules for the succession, as approved by the High Council."

Caelen leaned back further, resting his elbows on the stone behind him.

"Let me guess. More signatures?"

"The rule is simple," Valerie read from the parchment, her voice clear in the open courtyard. "To take the crown at the end of the fourth day, you must select an Empress. The High Council has restricted the pool of candidates to the unmarried noble women currently present within the inner court of Solis."

She looked up from the paper, her eyes locking onto Caelen.

"That list consists of three individuals: Lady Genevieve, Princess Aurelia, and myself."

The garden went completely quiet.

Genevieve smoothed her skirt down, her chin lifting just a fraction. Aurelia looked at Caelen, her eyes bright with sudden, sharp interest.

Caelen stopped smiling. He looked at the three women standing in front of him, and for the first time all morning, he could not think of a single clever thing to say.