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Premonition tingled at the edge of my senses.

A quick vision, a pulling instinct.

I foresaw the moment before I experienced it.

Magic.

I would have reached for my bow, if not for Father’s warning.

The first kill is not yours to claim.

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Nobody cheered when Prince Yexue’s arrow claimed the first kill of the season.

The forest held its breath, waiting to see how Siwang would react.

Though Lan Yexue, too, was a prince, he was not a prince of Rong.

To put it kindly, Yexue was a ward sent here by his uncle, to be educated by our great empire.

To put it bluntly, he was a prisoner sent from one of our many tribute states, to be kept on a leash in case his uncle, the current Regent of Lan, dared to rebel.

A prince in name only, unworthy of claiming the first kill.

After two years in the Rong court, surviving under enemy roofs, Prince Yexueshouldhave understood??????????.When living under the mercy of another, one must bow one’s head.

“Is no one going to congratulate me?” Prince Yexue jumped from his horse to examine the prize, not an ounce of fear weighing down his tone.

How princely of him: ignoring what was expected of him to do what he wanted.

Jealousy rattled.

Prince Yexue of Lan was a boy of sculpted angles and porcelain skin. Thick brows, sharp jaw, and the kind of doe-brown eyes that made even the most proper of daughters lose their wits. To make it worse, he was also tall, towering over almost everyone with the exception of Siwang.

All that beauty, and the kind of arrogant, rebellious streak that only princes were allowed to have—no wonder he’d caused a frenzy when he arrived at the capital two years ago. Every maiden had swooned at the sight of him—and so had a handful of the imperial concubines and the city’s noble sons. Rumor had it that half the court had tried to marry their besotted daughters off to him, despite his crumbling kingdom and uncertain fate.

Visitors from across the continent came to Yong’An, and the city had met plenty of beautiful faces before, though never one quite as haunting. Lan Yexue’s heavenly face was almost enough to make the court overlook his odd name and forget those swirling rumors of dark magic that his family practiced, and how his ancestors were the once-cruel southern rulers who had almost driven Siwang’s ancestors to extinction hundreds of years ago.

Empires rise and empires fall.Now Yexue’s country was our tribute state, and their beautiful prince was our ward.

“You have a sharp eye.” Tension eased slightly when Siwang finally cracked a smile.

“I’ve had practice,” Prince Yexue replied, his voice cold as the frozen terrain surrounding. “Not everyone can be the pampered heir to the most powerful empire in the land with nothing to fear and nothing to want.”

Caikun, the son of a first-ranked general and Siwang’s personal guard, grimaced. His hand rested on his sword, his eyes on Siwang, waiting for a signal to strike.

Other lips twisted into half smiles, including mine. It wasn’t every day that someone had the courage to make fun of our beloved crown prince, however foolish it was.

This hunting party of fur coats and leather riding boots and bows decorated with gold and silver and bedazzling jewels comprised some of our empire’s most powerful heirs. The children of generals, first-ranked ministers, and the wealthy merchants whose coffers filled the imperial treasury and funded our never-ending campaigns to claim more land, more power.

All in the name of my prophecy.

The one thing these heirs had in common, besides status and wealth and gleaming gold spoons hanging from their mouths?

Their compulsion to worship the ground Siwang walked on as if their lives depended on it.