There was a knock at the door of the study, to which the Crown Prince growled, "Leave."
"But, Your Highness—" a muffled protest from whoever was unfortunate enough to be delivering his dinner tonight.
"I said leave! Do not bother me!" he shouted, slamming his fists on his desk. The ink pot he had uncapped tumbled sideways by the force, spilling jet black over his scribble-riddled papers.
He could hear a whimper and the shuffling of feet on the other side, but he cared not. He did not want to see or be seen by anyone.
The Crown Prince was agitated.
It had been four months, and she was still out there. Still out of his grasp.
He had thought her broken—she was broken. There should have been no will in her to fight.
Yet his letters and threats were of no use. Were all those years spent placating her, trapping her, gone in vain? Where had she gotten the gall to try to escape him like this?
No, the Crown Prince refused to be the one to fail. She was going to fall at his hands, there was simply no other option.
A figure materialized out of the shadows, robed in a red so dark it almost appeared black. Withered hands inked with circular shapes raised in solemn greeting as they spoke, "The Blessed Flame greets you, Your Highness."
A man's voice. The Crown Prince spun to face him, thoughtlessly blurting out, "What are you doing here?"
He had been trying to hide the fact that she escaped, had been trying to right things on his own, but it was only a matter of time until they found out and came to admonish him for his mishap.
The Renocault Order. An ancient society of mages and cultists that had been prospering in the shadows of Rowonne. The royal family were longtime patrons of the order, having aided them in secret for over four hundred years. Every king in the history of the lands had deeply revered the order. The reason was one of the first things the Prince was ever taught—the royal family's best-kept secret.
The High Mage dropped his hand, clearly displeased by the way his greeting was ignored. He rasped, face hidden under a generous hood, "I am here by revelation. You lost the demon, and the day is dawning upon us."
Dawning upon us. The Prince wanted to scoff. He still had the better of seven months to capture her. The 'day' was still very far.
"Your Highness, need I remind you of the severe responsibility upon your shoulders? Do not forget that without the Order, the royal family would—"
"I have not forgotten, High Mage," the Prince cut him off, scowling.
"Then why have you sat idle so far?"
"I have not been idle! This situation is not as easy as it seems. I cannot simply do as I wish!"
His outburst was granted, for he could not openly act against her. Not in a way that would implicate the royal name. He could not afford to involve Valorieve in this.
There was no one bold enough, loyal enough, who could perform the task for him.
"Shall we bring it here for you?" as if reading his mind, the High Mage offered cautiously, and the Prince stiffened. He was in urgent need of aid, and the Order was going to grasp that opportunity to shackle him further. They were not fools.
He was playing into their hands, and he knew it, but the Crown Prince also knew that he had run out of options. It would do him well to accept their help. Ask for it. Beg for it, even.
He squared his shoulders, trying to don the façade of authority as he demanded, "How long do you expect it would take you?"
"A fortnight, no more," the High Mage answered assuredly, and the Prince did not doubt him. For all their mysterious, perturbing ways, the Order worked quickly and efficiently.
"Fine, then. I want her within these walls in a fortnight's time."
"Yes, yes," the mage waved a dismissive hand then fell silent. Even though his face was obscured, the Crown Prince knew that he was eyeing the unkempt state of his person and his study.
He could almost hear the lecturing words before they were spoken, "In the meantime, you should take better care of yourself, Your Highness. This is unbefitting the Blood of the First."
Disgruntled, the royal muttered, biting back a retort filled with snark, "I will be sure to."
But when he blinked, the High Mage was already gone, melting into the darkness as though he had never been there.
YOU ARE READING
Vivid | Lee Minho
Fanfiction"Those who were destined to die had no right to interfere with the affairs of those fated to live." A girl cursed to be reborn strikes an unlikely deal with the ambitious heir of Valorieve in order to fulfill her only wish. However, this strictly-b...
