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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JACE

E scaping from a party was never easy. Even harder when the party was thrown in your honor. The muscles in Jace’s face ached from too much forced smiling. His arms hung heavy, numb from hours of shaking hands with lords from across the realms, each presenting lavish gifts.

Lord Varick of Elevanshkee approached with a limp, offering a brief smile before bowing deeply. He extended an embroidered purple velvet cape, the symbol of his house, a night moth on a lily, stitched across its surface. "For His Royal Highness," he said with formality.

Jace nodded politely, passing the cape to a servant. Just another gift among hundreds. Before he could take a breath, Lady Lyra from Alderath stepped forward, bearing fine woolen fabrics from her mountainous kingdom.

Jace stopped listening. He no longer heard the speeches, the hollow wishes, or the endless hum of conversation. Not even the constant chatter of his cousin, Princess Eleyna, who stood beside him. He was trapped in his thoughts. His chest tightened. Time was slipping through his fingers, and he could feel it. He had to leave. His decision was made. He couldn’t stay another day in this gilded hive. He was afraid, not just of his father, but of himself. Of what he might do.The night before, perched on his balcony, he hadn’t realized how close he was to the edge.

Jace was terrified, not just of the world around him but of himself. Of what he might do. That fear had driven him back to his room the night before, where he had sat down and written the letter he now clutched in his pocket. He excused himself from the cluster of lords as he slipped toward a quiet corner of the room. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the folded letter and read it again.

"Dear Parents,

In these final words, I leave behind the shadows of our kingdom and the weight of your unmet expectations. With these lines, I ask for your forgiveness, not for the act I committed, but for the son I could never be, the future monarch you hoped for. You shaped your destiny according to your own aspirations; today, I choose to forge my own.

I ask forgiveness for my selfishness, for the burden I leave behind, and for the disappointment I turned out to be. I am leaving for the unknown, across the seven seas and the six kingdoms, in search of a peace I can only hope to find beyond the gilded walls of this hive.

Somewhere, beyond the waves and the stars, I hope to find the truth that will calm my soul and the fate that awaits me.

May time offer you the clarity and understanding I could not give you, and grant me your pardon.

Your son,

Prince Jace of Eldoria"

Jace’s hand had trembled as he wrote those words. It hurt, but it had to be done. He didn’t belong here. He felt broken. He had spent his entire life mimicking the smiles and gestures of his cousins, aunts, and uncles, but it always felt false to him. No matter how much he looked like an Eldorian, his heart longed for something else, somewhere else. Tonight, he would escape. His plan was clumsy, hastily made, but it was all he had. Slip the letter into his father’s office. Sneak out through the palace’s art wing, toward the gardens. Hide in a carriage and get past the guards. After that, he’d figure it out. Maybe he’d reach the library of Leos or the one in Tulindor. He’d read enough to know that scholars’ temples accepted students willing to work for shelter. He would hide. Learn. See the real world. Every corner of this hive reminded him of his isolation.

Since he was five, Jace had sensed something was off about his parents. He remembered watching them from afar, like an intruder in his own home. There were no joyful walks through the honey gardens like his cousins enjoyed with their parents. Only silence, and a shadow of guilt that clung to him, as though he carried a sin he didn’t even understand.

The memory that haunted him most was of his mother, Queen Alys, kneeling before an altar. He had hidden behind a statue, watching in silence. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across her weary face. Her clasped hands trembled, her lips murmuring a prayer that still echoed in his mind:

"O Ancients, guardians of the skies and the abyss, forgive me for the sins I have committed. Forgive me for bearing the fruit of a curse and despair... Guide my husband and me through the shadows of our past."

Jace clutched the letter to his chest. He excused himself from the gathered guests once more, slipping into the corridor. His heart pounded harder with every step, but he didn’t look back.

As Jace hurried down the corridor, determined to slip away before the guards spotted him, he heard shouting from a partially open door. His father’s voice. His mother’s sobs.

Jace froze, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. It was the perfect moment, his parents were distracted. He could escape unnoticed. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave her alone. “This is all your fault!” his father roared. “You raised him poorly! You’re nothing but a deranged lunatic! You can’t even be a proper mother like the other women!”

At those words, Jace burst through the door without thinking. His father loomed over his mother, shouting in her face. “Don’t talk to her like that!” Jace snapped. The king turned on him. “See? Do you hear how he speaks to me? This is your fault!” he shouted, pointing at Alys. If Jace was leaving, he was damn well going to face his father one last time. He closed the distance, just as his father raised a hand to strike the queen. Jace caught his wrist mid-air. That’s when he saw it. The bruise on his mother’s eye. Rage boiled in his chest. His voice came low, dangerous. “Don’t touch her again. Mother, leave. I’ll handle this.”

The king’s face contorted with rage as he shoved Jace back. Father and son collided in a brutal clash, their voices raised in fury, fists flying in raw anger. Just beyond the thick walls, their guests laughed freely, golden goblets raised in cheer, indifferent to the rot of the dynasty they so admired. Here, bruises hid beneath silk, and wounds lay concealed behind jewels. While the others partied, a family shattered, fighting battles no crown could shield them from.

“Don’t hit him, he’s your son!" queen Alys begged her husband. She turned to Jace, “Please… stop… This is my fault. I got him mad." The king staggered back, breathless, running a hand through his hair before fixing Jace with a furious glare. “You’ve been worthless since the day you were born!” he spat. “Nothing but a problem! Even as a child, your cousins spoke before you, honouring their families. While it took four years just to utter a word! You’re a failure who can’t even respect his father!” He turned sharply on Alys. “And you? You ungrateful woman! Do you want me dead? I need him! I need his blood!” Jace snapped, “My blood? My blood?! You speak in riddles, like I’m some fool! I’m sick of this! I’m hurting everywhere!”

With shaking hands, he tore off his suit and yanked his shirt down, exposing his back to his father. Scars mapped his skin like grotesque carvings, dozens of them etched in jagged lines. His voice broke as tears streamed down his face. “I’m in so much pain… Explain this to me first!” He caught his mother’s anxious glance toward his father. Slowly, Jace turned back around, disbelief widening his eyes. “What? You’re just going to ignore it again?” he choked out. The king’s gaze stayed cold as he turned to Alys. “Tell him.” "Jace, my son,” Alys said quietly, her eyes staring into the void, “there’s nothing on your back.” Jace shook his head in frustration. He was tired of being treated like he was crazy. Like every other time he had shown his father, he heard the same cold dismissal: “You’re making it up for attention.”

The first time, when he was just a child, he had woken up disoriented, his back burning with pain. He had run to his father, desperate for comfort, but the man had claimed to see nothing. He had told him that he was making it up for attention. He had even shown it to other kids, who had laughed at him.

“Why do you hate me?” Jace asked.

“Because you’re an idiot. A selfish dreamer who only cares about chasing fantasies. You’ve turned your back on your family, and it’s all because of the pathetic education your crazy mother gave you.”

Something inside Jace shattered. His father didn’t even bother to deny it. Jace swallowed hard, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. He buttoned his shirt and said one final thing: “You talk about family, but you don’t deserve to be a father.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to his mother and took her gently by the arm. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was not leaving her. She resisted, fear etched into her features. When they reached the door, he paused and looked at her. “Let’s go, Mother. I’ll take care of you… I’ve become a man now,” he whispered. Alys raised her hand and cupped his cheek. Her touch was cold, her eyes distant and hollow. Then, in a voice that sent a shiver down his spine, she said, “Not until you’ve danced with the wind.”

Before Jace could respond, she pushed him through the doorway and shut the door behind him.

He stumbled back and rushed to the door, pounding on it desperately. “Mother! Open the door! Please!” But there was only silence.

Jace turned around. He had to leave. Now. He headed toward the hall, stopping at the foot of the staircase. He looked at the crowded space, trying to find a way toward the path near the stairs that led to the arts wing. But the flood of guests blocked his way. Then he slowly lifted his gaze, and his heart skipped a beat.

There, at the top of the stairs, was the girl he had seen earlier from the balcony. He recognized her curls, her stunning blue dress. She appeared before him like a vision. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying, and she was descending the stairs in a fury. She paused briefly on one of the steps, pulling out a letter and reading its contents. Then, with an angry flick of her hand, she crumpled it and continued down the staircase with even more determination.

Jace intercepted a servant, snatched a glass of wine, and drank. He was fully aware that he was standing right in her path and that she wasn’t watching where she was going. He knew they were about to collide, yet he couldn’t move or tear his eyes away from her.

She crashed into him, and finally, their eyes met.

Wine splattered everywhere, soaking Jace’s tunic and staining her dress.

“Sorry,” Jace said quickly.

She glared at him, irritated. “Watch where you’re going,” she said, as she tried to wipe the wine from her skin and gown.

“Let me help you. Please,” Jace offered. She hesitated.

“I insist. I know a place where you can clean up,” he added, already gesturing for her to follow. Jace wasn’t sure why he was doing this, but something in him wanted to make the moment last. They began walking side by side, Jace leading the way. He glanced over at her and saw that she was still trying to wipe at the stain. “At the end of this wing, there should be a cleaning room,” he said with a nervous smile. She didn’t respond. She wasn’t even looking ahead, lost in her thoughts. Jace suddenly felt shy, unsure of what to say next. They entered the art hall, an awe-inspiring place lined with the finest sculptures and massive paintings. The ceiling itself was a masterpiece, painted in soft, celestial hues, as though it depicted a scene from paradise. Jace watched her closely, waiting for her reaction. She lifted her head, her eyes widening in wonder. “Wow…” she breathed, clearly impressed. Jace smiled. “Do you like art?” he asked, hopeful.

“There’s a lot of paintings,” she replied simply.

Without warning, she quickened her pace, her gaze flitting from one painting to the next, taking in every detail. Jace hurried after her.

“My name’s Jace,” he said, slightly out of breath as he caught up to her.

She stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Why are you telling me your name?” she asked, sounding almost annoyed. “Because I want to know yours,” Jace admitted, with a hint of embarrassment.

She eyed him for a moment. “Irene. Delmare,” she finally said.

“Like the sea?” Jace asked with a curious smile, wondering which noble house she belonged to. Irene didn’t answer. Without a word, she turned and continued walking.

Jace had never felt such a need to speak to anyone before. But something about her fascinated him.

“What’s your favorite color, Irene?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation alive.

“Do you need that to find the cleaning room?” she shot back. “No, but I want to show you something,” he said.

She exhaled. “Blue… like the sea,” she answered with a smirk playing on her lips. “Then follow me. I promise it’ll be quick,” he said. As Jace guided her toward what he wanted to show her, another question burned on his tongue. “What’s the sea like?” he asked. Irene frowned. “A noble like you has never seen the sea?” she asked, with disbelief. Jace’s heart ached for a moment. “I’m not really allowed to leave here, even though it’s my dream. Sometimes, I wish I were a bird, just to feel the wind on my face, to fly far away, and finally be free. “Actually…” he added with a sheepish chuckle, “before you ran into me, I was about to escape. Find someplace far away, where I could wake up every day, read books, and admire the sea.” His voice softened, and a sad smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re an idiot for telling me that,” she replied with a grin. Jace didn’t even feel offended by her insult, as long as she kept looking at him with that same smile. But she still answered his question. “The sea is… everything. It’s both the breeze of freedom and the vastness of danger. It’s peace wrapped in the unknown and the thrill of the horizon,” she said, her eyes gleaming with emotion. Jace felt jealousy.

They reached the painting he wanted to show her, but Irene got ahead of him before he could introduce it. She lifted her head, mouth slightly open, awestruck.

“It’s beautiful” she breathed, staring at the painting, while Jace watched her instead. “Yes, it is,” he whispered. The painting was a window into infinity. “It belongs to my family,” he added. At the center of the canvas stretched a vivid, almost unreal blue sea beneath a sky heavy with lilac clouds, ash-gray storms, and deep violet hues illuminated by divine light. Waves crashed with emotion, while a golden beam pierced a narrow break in the clouds, casting its glow on the dark waters. In the distance, barely visible, a solitary ship faded into the horizon, as if destined to sail forever.

"That’s exactly what it feels like… the sea," she said, turning toward him.

Jace smiled, ready to move on, but Irene stepped closer to the painting. “You know, I know someone who might buy this. Must be worth a fortune. He could give you a place on his ship if you need to escape.”

“This painting is far too valuable. It can’t be sold,” Jace replied.

Irene shot him a dark look. “Then if you love your paintings so much, don’t complain. Stay here with them,” she said coldly.

Jace tried to hide how her sharp words stung. “You didn’t like what I said?” he asked carefully.

“How did you know?”

“I can see it in your eyes,” she answered casually, then sighed. "I need to go. I’m in a hurry." She glanced down at her dress. "Forget it."

Jace rushed after her. "Wait! Let me help you… maybe I can be of use," he said. “Hmm…” she murmured, eyeing him skeptically. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find the prince, would you?”

Jace broke into a wide grin, a laugh slipping out. “You’re looking at him,” he said proudly, savoring her reaction. Irene’s eyes widened. She tilted her head, her gaze sharp.