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The Prince

T he serene golden face of my brother glitters in the light of the wax candles. The burial mask has recreated his features up to the smallest detail and matches his golden locks, draping the red silk of his coffin.

The Golden Prince. The throne heir. My older brother.

I reproach myself for not feeling anything but a terrifying void inside me. The heavy incense and the scent of the embalmed body sting my nose, and my eyes well up. A lonely tear drips over his golden mask, but I quickly get myself together. An Unseelie ruler is expected to be ruthless and have a heart of stone. Mourning is for those below me.

Some nobles faint and had to be carried to their chambers; others drop on their knees and pull their hair in perfectly faked mourning. Terror and despair have been sweeping the Unseelie court for weeks. The heir to the throne was poisoned at his coronation ceremony before the eyes of his family and his entire court.

Murders by poisoning are quite a common way to trigger shifts of power in the Unseelie Kingdom. And I know very well that too many fingers are pointing at me: the Captain of the Shadowblades, the elite spies and assassins legion taking orders only from me, the future king’s right hand. The court sees my men for what they are and fears them: powerful and loyal warriors able to summon blades of pure magic and dismiss them at will.

Slipping a poison into the prince’s drink is the easiest thing to do.

Good. Let them fear us.

My mother’s sobbing still lingers in the vast hall, but my father is strangely quiet. His eyes—narrowed, cruel, challenging—wanders the room and rests on me.

“Are you prepared to step into his shoes, secondborn?”

Secondborn. His cold words thunder under the lacy arches of the domes above. The crowd of courtiers freezes, like creatures sensing an approaching storm. Some cower, others ruffle their feathers and place their bets.

“I have asked you a question, secondborn.” His icy blue gaze penetrates my flesh, and I feel his grip on my mind. He hasn’t used my name since the rightful heir dropped his chalice, his face turned purple, and his last breath left his body with a painful hiss. Like the rest of the court, he probably thinks the throne heir’s death is my doing.

I emerge from the incense haze, shrouding my brother’s body, and stride to the throne. My steps echo over the polished black marble floor, each one growing heavier.

“You do understand that the burden to rule is now yours after the untimely passing of the true heir.”

The true heir.

He repeats all the messages he branded into my mind since I was a babe. Swallowing the humiliation, I halt at the feet of the throne, shaped from a crystal that fell from the stars. The wailing of the courtiers has ceased, and the crowd is watching us, claws drawn, teeth bared, like a beast waiting to pounce. Now, blades are secretly drawn, poison vials are opened, and loyalties are being tested.

The power shifts in the court of the Unseelie King happen fast and unannounced. The weak and kind ones are weeded out, and millennia of backstabbing and lust for more power have turned us into a race of ruthless murderers.

Subconsciously, I shift my weight, assuming an offensive stance. Years of ruthless military training have beaten it into my muscles. The silk and velvet carpets covering the steps to the throne swallow the sound of my move. The palace guards’ hands reach to the hilts of their swords, and their postures tense up. I can guess what’s on everyone’s minds right now. Will the arrogant, murdering prince go the last mile and kill his father in his lust for the crown?

The nobles let out a collective breath of relief as I drop to one knee and lower my chin. Those who placed their bets on me might not be happy, but a bloodbath between the palace guard and my Shadowblades with the whole court caught in the middle is not something I desire. Not right now.

“I understand, Father. And I am ready.” The words ring loud and clear. They’re true. There’s nothing I have desired more. I’m prepared.

I will be a king.

The king that would change everything in this wretched world.

The king and the queen will withdraw to their summer palace after my coronation. The long centuries of rule have taken their toll on my father, and his enemies whisper that he’s softened lately.

A mistake I would never make.

But how do I rule over a court of vipers and backstabbers? How do I keep the countless cousins, uncles, and nobles with great ambitions and large armies in their place?

By making them reveal their intentions. By forcing them to take the first step and strike.

Pushing to my feet, I turn around to face the court crowd. Turning your back to the king and the queen is already an offense punishable by death. Still, everyone knows very well that my father, my old, angry, and wary father, his frame already distorted by the weight of his long life, would never follow through and kill his only heir.

I stalk the herd of nobles, and a thin smile curls my lips when I notice how they flinch. Fearful gazes drop to my empty right hand. They know that I can summon my Shadowblade in the blink of an eye. And no usual weapon is a match for it.

The Wildling they call me behind my back, referring to my many ventures into the Wastelands beyond the protective halo and the thick walls of the capital.

My steel studded boots are still crusted with the black soil of the desolate lands, and my travel clothes bear the faint scent of the wild, of tainted blood and ashes. Relishing in their fear, I ignore the old king’s angry calling.

Nobody would risk challenging me openly; that much is clear. And it is not a duel invitation or an army at our gates that I worry about. It is the drops of poison in my food; the dagger slipped into the hand of someone I trust.

I open my arms in a dramatic gesture and let them take in my tall frame, the crimson stains on my leather armor, and the speckles of black blood over my face and hair. Let them see who they will be challenging should they decide to take over what is mine.

“Father, Mother, I am ready to rule.” I pace along the line of courtiers and halt before Aernysse Stargaze, the court mage, then dip my chin in a sign of respect. She straightens her bony shoulders and bows, sensing that I am speaking the truth. “And as you seem to be having doubts, I would like to prove myself worthy of the crown. I ask for permission to participate in the coming Nightfall Trials.”

How do you make those who plot against you in secret reveal themselves?

By giving them the perfect opportunity to strike.

The courtiers hold their breath, and I clearly hear my mother gasp behind my back. The ancient black eyes of the court mage narrow and dart to the throne dais. I resist the urge to turn around and see my parents’ reaction. My mother’s eyes are probably wide in terror that she will lose another son, and my father’s knuckles are white from clutching the armrests of the star crystal throne.

If he refuses to let me participate, he will show weakness and admit that his last living son, the Captain of the Shadowblades, is not strong enough to handle the deadly Trials.

“Prince Aeidas, you are granted permission to participate in the Nightfall Trials. May your deeds please the Elders!” the king finally declares.

A deafening cheer erupts beneath the arched vaults of the throne hall, contrasting oddly with the stillness of my brother’s cold body and the mourning priestesses at his side. My gaze sweeps over the crowd and I spot some of my Shadowblades scattered among the courtiers, all blending in, dressed in mourning red. They carefully watch the reaction of the crowd: some of the nobles are already plotting my demise.

Perfect.

Since the Seelie Fae are gone, the Nightfall Trials are all about hunting humans and keeping their magic in check. Humans breed like pests, and if we allow every human mage to survive, soon hundreds of magic-protected human settlements will sprout across the Wastelands, triggering rebellions and wars for resources. The Nightfall Trials are a great chance for young Fae nobles to hunt and thin their numbers; it is cruel but necessary.

But this year, they will be hunting a prince.