Chapter 39: Unsafe palace

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Unsafe palace

Warm morning light slipped through the curtains of Theon’s chamber, soft and golden, the kind of light that made a person forget, just for a moment, that the world outside was dangerous.

For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming.

The bed beneath him was soft. The air carried the faint scent of frost lilies, and the heavy pressure that had filled his body after the battle was mostly gone. His limbs still ached, but it was a distant ache now, like a bruise fading into memory.

Then he turned his head, and froze.

Astrid was sitting beside his bed.

Her crimson hair fell over one shoulder in loose waves. Her usually sharp eyes, the ones that always looked ready to cut through him, were lowered in silence. She looked smaller like this. Almost fragile.

Theon’s heart jumped painfully in his chest.

He instinctively pushed himself backward, nearly falling off the bed in his haste. Mana gathered in his palm on instinct, ready to activate Shadow Step at the first sign of danger.

"Astrid?!"

He was halfway through the incantation when Astrid reached forward and grabbed his wrist, her grip firm but not cruel.

"Wait. Please, just wait."

Her voice was not cold. It was not angry either. It was something Theon had never heard from her before. Nervous. Almost pleading.

Theon blinked, caught off guard.

She held his hand tightly, her fingers trembling just slightly.

"It’s okay," she said softly. "I am not here to hurt you."

The mana in his palm slowly faded, dissolving into nothing. He stared at her for a long moment, searching her face for any trace of the malice he had felt last night during the fight. He found none.

"Then why are you here?"

Astrid lowered her gaze, and for the a little moment since he had known her, the proud first princess looked genuinely uncertain, as though she did not know how to hold her own posture.

A long silence stretched between them before she finally spoke.

"Because I owe you an apology."

Theon frowned. "You tried to kill me."

The words came out sharper than he meant them to, but he did not take them back.

Astrid winced as though she had been struck. "Yes. I did. I won’t deny it."

The room fell quiet again. She took a slow breath, steadying herself.

"Ever since I was little, I was called a prodigy. The strongest princess of the empire. The nobles praised me. The knights admired me. Even the academy instructors spoke my name with something close to pride." Her fingers tightened slightly around his wrist. "Then you were born."

Theon remained silent, letting her speak.

"At first I ignored it. I told myself it was just another rumor." She laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "The rumors kept growing anyway. The child with abnormal mana. The prince who contracted a primordial demon. The prince who surpassed the first princess."

Her eyes trembled, and for a moment Theon thought she might cry.

"The same people who once praised me began whispering behind my back. Some called me weak. Some said my era had ended before it had truly begun." She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I needed somewhere to throw all that anger. And you were the only person close enough to reach."

Theon did not answer right away. He studied her face carefully, looking for arrogance, for pride, for anything familiar. There was none of that left. Only exhaustion, worn deep into the lines around her eyes.

Finally, she bowed her head.

"I’m sorry, Theon. I mean it."

The words were quiet, but they carried real weight.

Theon stared at her for several long seconds. Then he let out a slow breath and allowed his shoulders to relax.

"It’s all right."

Astrid looked up, startled. "You’re forgiving me that easily?"

"You’re my big sister," he said simply.

Those four words seemed to land harder than any accusation she had prepared herself for. A small, surprised smile touched her lips before she caught herself and narrowed her eyes, trying to reclaim some of her usual composure.

"You know," she said, "you could have killed me during that fight."

Theon blinked. "No, I couldn’t have. You are far stronger than me."

Astrid gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "Stop joking around. I know you were holding back against me."

Theon kept his face still, though inside his mind was screaming.

Holding back? Do you have any idea what it cost me to use that skill against you? My arms still feel like a dragon sat on them.

Somehow he managed to keep his expression neutral.

Astrid watched him for a second longer, then burst out laughing, the sound bright and unguarded in a way he had never heard from her before.

Theon stared at her in surprise. A moment later, he laughed too, and for once what felt like a very long while, the tension between them broke completely, replaced by something lighter.

Once the laughter faded, Theon glanced around the room.

"Where are Lyra, Lazeria, and Ifrith?"

A familiar voice answered from the corner of the room.

"Master, you finally remembered I exist."

Theon turned to see Ifrith perched on the windowsill, arms crossed, looking thoroughly offended.

Theon coughed awkwardly. "Sorry. I was talking with my sister."

Ifrith pressed a hand to his chest with theatrical hurt. "I understand completely. I have simply been abandoned."

Astrid rolled her eyes, and Theon could not help but chuckle.

"What about Lyra and Lazeria?"

"They’re resting in their chambers," Ifrith replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Yesterday exhausted both of them. Lyra especially." He paused. "I think the Eternal Frostblade’s aura still has not fully faded from her body."

Theon immediately tried to get up.

"I should go check on her."

Ifrith pointed a clawed finger at him. "Sit down."

Theon paused mid motion.

"The Flame Empress’s power is already healing her," Ifrith said. "If you go walking around in your condition, I will end up carrying you back myself, and neither of us wants that."

Theon reluctantly sank back onto the bed.

Astrid, however, had grown quiet.

"The Flame Empress," she murmured, almost to herself. A shadow crossed her expression, and it was not fear. It looked closer to worry.

Theon noticed immediately.

"Astrid?"

He was about to ask what she knew when the door opened.

Emperor Ragnar stepped into the room, and the atmosphere shifted at once.

Astrid stood so quickly that her chair nearly toppled behind her. She lowered her head, clearly bracing for a scolding.

Ragnar walked past her without a word. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he reached out and gently touched her shoulder.

"It is fine," he said calmly. "Give us the room for a moment."

Astrid blinked, caught off guard by his gentleness. She bowed silently and left without another word.

Ragnar’s gaze shifted to Ifrith.

The demon raised a hand before the emperor could speak. "Don’t even look at me like that. I am not leaving."

Ragnar sighed. "I expected that answer."

Ifrith smirked, satisfied.

Ragnar turned his full attention to Theon, and the warmth that had filled the room only moments ago seemed to drain away.

"It is no longer safe for you in this palace."

Theon’s smile faded instantly. "Why?"

Ragnar’s crimson eyes met his, steady and grave. "Your siblings are moving faster than I anticipated."

Theon frowned. "Astrid already attacked me. Shouldn’t that have stopped them?"

"No," Ragnar said, his voice growing colder. "In truth, her attack helped us."

Theon’s brow furrowed. "What?"

Ragnar walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. "The night Astrid challenged you, another force was approaching the northern wing. A force of assassins."

The room fell utterly silent.

"Again?" Theon asked, his eyes widening.

"Not ordinary assassins," Ragnar continued. "Elite killers. Veterans of border wars. Specialists trained specifically to eliminate mages and demon contractors."

Even Ifrith’s easy expression sharpened at that.

"If they had entered while your group was resting," Ragnar said, his voice carrying the weight of a ruler addressing a battlefield, "the outcome would have been far worse than a bruised arm."

Understanding settled slowly over Theon. "Astrid attacked first, so they held back."

Ragnar nodded. "The assassins stopped advancing. They watched the fight, measured what you were capable of, and withdrew to report what they had seen."

Theon’s hands curled into fists. "So they were testing me."

"They were measuring the threat you have become." Ragnar turned to face him fully. "After witnessing your strength, they will not send the same kind of enemy again."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Theon exhaled slowly, trying to steady the storm building in his chest. "Then what do we do now?"

Ragnar’s expression did not soften. "You leave the palace."

"What about Lyra and Lazeria?"

"They will go with you."

Theon’s frown deepened. "Why can’t you protect us here?"

For the first time, Ragnar looked tired, truly tired, the kind of weariness that came from carrying something for far too long.

"Theon. The war between royal siblings has existed for generations. It did not begin with you, and it will not end with you either." His voice deepened, heavy with history. "The ancient pilgrimage was created to reduce civil war among heirs. It forced princes and princesses to grow and prove themselves before competing for the throne."

He paused, and the fire in the hearth crackled softly into the silence.

"But ambition never truly disappeared. Brothers still poison brothers. Sisters still hire assassins in the dark. Blood has stained this family long before you were ever born into it."

Theon looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of those words settle over him like a second blanket.

Ragnar stepped closer, his voice low and honest.

"I can protect you from enemies outside the throne. That much I can promise you." His eyes hardened. "But I cannot watch every shadow that moves inside it."

The honesty of it hurt more than Theon expected.

He was quiet for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"Where will I go?"

Ragnar answered without hesitation.

"It is time for you to enroll in the Imperial Academy."

Theon’s eyes widened. "The Imperial Academy?"

Memories rose in his mind unbidden. The greatest academy in the empire, a place where princes, princesses, and heirs of noble houses trained side by side. Protected by ancient barriers older than the palace itself. A place where no one carrying true murderous intent could even set foot inside.

That really might be the safest place in the whole empire.

Ragnar’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and the temperature in the room dropped just slightly. His gaze had fallen on Theon’s storage ring.

The Eternal Frostblade.

Theon felt it too, a faint pulse of cold energy leaking from the ring for just a heartbeat.

Ragnar’s voice turned grave. "Never draw that blade unless you are prepared to lose something precious to you."

Theon’s breath caught in his throat. Before he could ask what that warning truly meant, Ragnar had already turned away, the words left hanging in the air like a quiet prophecy.

Deep beneath the imperial capital, in a chamber lit only by flickering blue flames, Duke Aldric sat in silence, patient as stone.

Assassins knelt before him in a neat row, heads bowed.

"The Seventh Prince is stronger than expected," one of them reported. "Direct elimination will be difficult, perhaps impossible with our current numbers."

Another added, "He is also being transferred to the Imperial Academy."

Aldric’s lips curved into a faint smile.

"Good."

He raised one hand, and from the shadows a young boy stepped forward, roughly Theon’s age. His eyes burned a deep red, and his black hair carried streaks of crimson, as though flame itself had touched it. On the back of his hand, a faint emblem shaped like fire glowed softly beneath his skin.

Aldric looked him over with cold approval.

"You will enter the Imperial Academy as well."

The boy knelt immediately, without hesitation.

Aldric’s smile deepened into something far colder.

"Rule the academy from within. Learn its halls, its people, its weaknesses." His voice sharpened, cutting through the quiet like a drawn blade. "And destroy the one called the Seventh Prince."

The boy lowered his head lower still.

"As you command, my lord."

Far above the hidden chamber, snow continued to fall gently over the imperial capital, soft and silent, indifferent to the plans forming in the dark below.

One prince was preparing to enter the safest place in the empire.

And in the shadows beneath the throne, another child was already being shaped into his executioner.