Page 134 of Unravelled
Ren watched as realization flickered in Mira’s expression, as she began to understand. "They ran," he whispered. "For weeks. Searching for someone who would perform the bond. But no one would." Mira’s fingers trembled.
"And then her brother died," Ren said. "And she had no choice but to return."
"The neighbouring kingdom had been outraged. Humiliated that their prince had been rejected for a nameless acolyte." Ren’s voice darkened. "So she bargained."
Mira’s posture tightened. "With her intended." Ren nodded.
"It was the only way to save the kingdom’s honor. But if a new price is named and accepted..."
"The contract remains intact," Mira whispered.
Ren’s jaw tightened. A long pause. Then, Mira asked, already knowing the answer. "What was the price?"
Ren hesitated only for a moment before speaking. "Their firstborn son."
???
The great hall was bathed in opulence. Golden chandeliers hung high above the marble floors, their candlelight flickering across rich, silken banners draped along the towering columns. The scent of honeyed wine and spiced meats filled the air, mingling with the soft, breathy hum of courtly whispers.
Ren stood at the base of the throne, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders drawn tight beneath the weight of expectation. Tonight, Ren was the subject of those whispers. The bastard prince. Unworthy. Illegitimate. Not a ruler. Hundreds of courtiers, nobles, and dignitaries filled the ballroom, their attention pinned on the dais. To him.
The lie had been whispered for years, woven carefully into the fabric of the kingdom’s politics. And if the court knew the truth? Alliances would fracture. Sothey kept him hidden in plain sight. Raised in shadows, kept just close enough to be useful, just far enough to be ignored.
Sarelle sat upon the dais, her crown glinting under the glow of the chandeliers, her expression calm, poised, but her eyes watched everything. Beside her, King Caelric sat forward, his expression calm, composed.
Her voice rang clear. "Tonight, before the eyes of the court, we present our Prince."
Not an heir. Not the future king. Simply prince. Ren kept his face impassive. Sarelle’s eyes swept the gathered nobles, commanding absolute attention. This was her declaration. Not that Ren was her son. Not that he was the future. But he was a piece on the board. And tonight, she would decide how he played.
But the moment the herald’s voice rang out, the moment Ren’s name was announced before the entire court, he felt the weight of it. Excited murmurs rose, whispers darting through the ranks of noble families, daughters straightening, mothers exchanging eager glances. A public display. A performance for the court.
Ren’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled into fists behind his back. But before he could even swallow his irritation, he felt her. A sharp, unexpected pull beneath his ribs. It wasn’t the usual tether he had, the steady ache of knowing Mira was near.
This was sharper. Hotter. Jealousy. Not his. Hers. He didn’t dare turn his head to find her. Didn’t have to. He could feel her watching. His pulse pounded against his throat. A small, dark thrill unfurled in his chest. Good. She was just as obsessed as he was.
He took a step forward, bowing towards Sarelle just enough to acknowledge the order. "As you command, Your Majesty."
Sarelle’s smile sharpened. The music began. A noblewoman stepped forward. Lady Evelyne. Golden-haired, meticulously trained in poise and charm.
She curtsied, a perfectly measured tilt of her head. "Your Highness."
Ren offered his hand, forcing himself to keep his movements controlled, unhurried. "Lady Evelyne."
Their hands barely brushed before she set her other against his shoulder, and they began to move. She smelled of roses and something overly sweet, and her tone was carefully light.
"I heard you were raised with warriors."
"You heard correctly."
"How thrilling. A prince with a sword."
Ren bit back the urge to snap back with a sarcastic comment. Instead, he spun her precisely, politely.
"Do you enjoy dancing, my lord?"
"Not particularly." Her perfectly rehearsed laugh grated on his nerves.
"Then I shall consider myself honored that you suffer through it for me."
