A story about a prince and his pretty consort presumptive.
Crown Prince Raffe, as the only son of High King Alizade and sole heir to the High Throne of the Ruemri Empire, is bound to fulfill one important duty for the crown. Even if that duty involv...
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SOREN HAD never been terrified in his life.
Despite diligently preparing for the Medical Examination scheduled in three days and being inundated with numerous letters from Gwyndal, Soren found no respite from his overwhelming nerves.
As winter settled in, he gazed out the window, watching the snow cascade down, mirroring his inner turmoil.
After receiving High Commander Salav's letter confirming the involvement of Zuan's Prime Minister in the revolt, alongside accusations leveled against several nobles from the three southern kingdoms, Raffe swiftly departed for Zuan with an unwavering determination to bring an end to the turmoil once and for all.
The rebels' aggressive attack continued, the letter said. They were burning houses and small villages of half-breeds all over the southern lands and the army needed their High General to lead the fight from their side. Of the faie that Raffe saw in Halyon castle, there was no word. He remained a grim mystery.
It had been one hundred and forty-three days since then. Almost five months. Soren never counted days before, but this time he did.
Worry and anxiety kept nagging at him and clawing at the back of his mind.
The sight of Raffe's limp body being carried to his chamber in the Verdant Palace right after they came home from their mission was still there in his damnable thoughts, fueling his fear and giving him sleepless nights.
But what could he do?
Soren wasn't a soldier, he wasn't even born to be one. His battleground was always the court, the politics. He could wield no weapon but words. That was what he had been trained for. In hindsight, Soren could fight with other means but after he told Raffe about the cost of doing something stupid like last time, Raffe vehemently refused to allow him to use that kind of ability ever again unless it was necessary and the stubborn, overprotective ass was present.
"You can't just forbid me to do it," Soren insisted one evening in one of their heated arguments. "It's in my nature. I use it to defend myself—"
"Do it to defend yourself, then," Raffe said. "You don't necessarily have to put yourself in danger. You're not responsible for the army, I am. We're done with this conversation, nitwit. And for the last time, you're not coming with me tomorrow. That's final."
"Who are you to tell me that? What right do you have?"
"I'm the general here, in case you haven't noticed." He looked at Soren with a pinched expression. "And I have every right, damn you. I'm your lover."
Soren was flabbergasted after hearing that so he shut up.
