Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 461. Shadowed Corners II
Roric straightened his spine and stared at the kid like he was made of stone.
"Jane?"
The name was a whisper.
Not broken. Not warm either. Just… existing. Like something carved into the bones that never quite healed.
The servant nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Highness. Princess Jane returned with them. We were informed that… she's still recovering her memory. But she was there. With them."
Roric exhaled through his nose.
His hands were still covered in dust and dried sweat. His tunic was half-untucked from training, and his hair was slightly damp beneath the leather cord he used to tie it back. He looked every bit the distracted crown prince trying to avoid the world outside the sparring grounds.
He tilted his head and looked out toward the castle proper.
Marble arches. Crimson banners. Gold leafed windows reflecting the late morning sun. The entire structure was dressed up like a bride trying to impress an unwanted groom.
And somewhere behind those walls… Jane had walked in.
The same girl who'd climbed the garden wall with him years ago just to steal figs. The same girl who dared to slap him when he insulted her mother, then cried beside him when her own passed.
The same girl who'd vanished.
Dead, they said.
Gone. Lost. A mistake in the archives of royalty and regrets.
He wasn't stupid. He knew what it meant when bodies weren't recovered and whispers faded too quickly. He knew the court's silence better than most.
But she had been gone.
And now she was back.
Roric reached down and unbuckled the strap of his gloves, tossing them onto the bench beside the blade. His fingers flexed. They weren't shaking, but they didn't quite feel like his either.
"Is she… well?" he asked finally, voice low.
The servant blinked, then nodded. "She… seemed quiet, Your Highness. Calm. Not afraid, if that's what you mean."
That wasn't what he meant.
Roric exhaled again and picked up a cloth, wiping the sweat from his neck. His mind ran faster than it had all morning.
What did she look like now?
What had they done to her?
And most of all… why was she with them?
Euphorion's King and Queen were nothing like the soft-handed nobles of Pontus. Angelus Raizel Moonfall had burned through three kingdoms like fire through parchment, and Rose? She was worse. Not by cruelty. But by the way she smiled like she knew your secrets before you did.
And Jane had returned beside them.
He wasn't ready for that.
Not today.
Maybe not ever.
"I'll be there soon," he muttered, tossing the cloth aside and reaching for a fresh shirt from the training rack. "Tell them I was delayed. And if my father asks, I was in the archives."
The servant hesitated. "Should I… mention you were training?"
Roric gave him a deadpan look. "No. Say I was reading about trade tariffs. That should bore him enough to stop asking."
"Yes, Your Highness." The servant bowed, nearly tripping over his own feet as he left in a rush.
Roric stood in the middle of the empty yard.
Alone now.
The breeze rolled past him, lifting the ends of his sweat-dampened hair. The scent of honeysuckle, oddly out of season, drifted faintly across the stone from the upper balconies.
He remembered Jane once saying she wanted to smell like honeysuckle.
He remembered mocking her for it.
He remembered everything.
And now… he had to act like he didn't.
Fine.
Let the court play pretend.
He was a prince.
He could wear a mask as well as anyone.
But still, as he walked toward the castle gates and the looming doors of the throne hall beyond them, something inside him tensed.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something heavier.
Something that smelled like old regrets and wildflowers, wrapped in the voice of a girl who'd once told him she wasn't afraid of ghosts.
She just didn't want to become one.
And yet, here she was.
Back from the dead.
Wearing silence like armor.
And bringing with her a storm that Pontus wasn't ready for.
Maybe he wasn't ready either.
But he was done hiding.
He fixed his collar.
Straightened his posture.
And stepped into the castle.
Ready or not.
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