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Chapter 12 — Strings of Light
Alec's POV
There's a certain kind of peace that only exists in laughter — and for me, it lives in the sound of children.
The last notes of my lute faded into the air, hanging like golden threads in the dim light of the orphanage hall. For a heartbeat, everything was quiet. Then the kids burst into cheers, clapping and stomping, shouting my name.
"Aiden! Aiden! Play the dragon song again!"
I grinned and shook my head, pretending to groan. "You little fiends. I've played it six times already."
A tiny girl with hair the color of ash tugged at my sleeve. "But you make the dragon sound funny."
That made me laugh. "Funny? I'll have you know I take my dragon impersonations very seriously." I puffed my cheeks and made an exaggerated roar, wiggling my fingers like claws. The hall filled with giggles.
I swear, if joy had a sound, it would be this.
For two hours, I was Aiden — the wandering musician who smelled faintly of cinnamon bread and stardust. Not Prince Alec of Dragonmorath. Not the heir with too much legacy and too little freedom.
Just me.
By the time I finally convinced them to sleep, the moon had already climbed high over the rooftops. I packed my lute, slung the strap across my shoulder, and gave one last look at the sleeping children.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, little dragons."
I slipped out quietly, the wooden door creaking shut behind me.
The streets of the lower quarter were empty, lit only by the soft shimmer of lamplight reflecting off wet stone. My boots splashed in puddles as I walked, humming the tune I'd played earlier. The melody carried faintly in the night — a promise, a lullaby, a lie I told myself to keep breathing.
By the time I reached the hill leading toward the palace gates, the chill had sunk through my coat. Two guards stood at the entrance, armor gleaming faintly in the torchlight.
"State your business," one of them barked.
I straightened, putting on my best offended peasant voice. "Business? Oh, you wound me. I'm just a humble musician trying to make my way home after a long night of—"
The other guard squinted. "Wait. Isn't that—"
"Shh!" I hissed, eyes wide. "Do not say my name."
It was too late. Recognition dawned in their faces like sunrise.
"Your High—"
"—shhhhhh!" I waved frantically. "If my father finds out I've been sneaking into the lower quarters again, I'll be polishing dragon scales until next century."
The older guard coughed, hiding a smile. "Understood… Aiden."
I winked. "Good man. Keep that secret, and I might not tell anyone about the time you tripped over your own spear during parade drills."
The guard's ears turned red. "You saw that?"
"Oh, I see everything."
They both groaned as I slipped past, chuckling under my breath.
Inside the castle walls, the air changed. The laughter of the city faded behind me, replaced by the echo of my boots against marble. The warmth I'd felt minutes ago evaporated into the cold silence of the palace halls.
Rhen was waiting just inside my chamber door, leaning against the frame with crossed arms.
"You're late," he said.
"I prefer fashionably delayed," I replied, tossing my lute onto the bed.
His eyes flicked to the soot on my boots. "Lower district again?"
I dropped into a chair, grinning. "The one and only. Played a few songs, saved a few souls, ruined a few eardrums."
Rhen sighed. "You know your father hates when you do that."
"Exactly," I said brightly.
He groaned, rubbing his temples. "One day he's going to—"
"—disown me? Already heard that one. Doesn't stick."
Rhen's lips twitched — a reluctant almost-smile. "You're impossible."
"I try."
But when he left, and the door shut behind him, the quiet returned.
I sat there for a while, staring at the lute resting on the sheets. The faint scent of candle wax and dust filled the air. Somewhere deep in the palace, the dragons in the lower caverns rumbled in their sleep, their breath rolling through the stone like a heartbeat.
I pressed a hand to my chest and exhaled slowly.
Sometimes, I think I play music just to remember what warmth feels like.
Because when the laughter fades, and the song ends — all that's left is me, a boy trying too hard to fill a silence that never answers back.
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By the time I reached the Great Hall, my father was already seated — every inch the ruler carved from stone and flame.
"Alec," he said, without looking up. "You're late."
"Technically, I'm fashionably delayed," I said, taking my seat.
His look could've melted metal. "Sit."
He studied me for a long moment. "You were out again last night."
I froze. "Define 'out.'"
"Alec."
"Alright, fine," I sighed. "Yes. I went out. But in my defense, no one died, nothing exploded, and I made at least a dozen orphans very happy. That should count for something."
"It counts as reckless," he said flatly. "You can't keep sneaking beyond the palace walls. You're not a street minstrel. You are the Crown Prince of Dragonmorath."
I opened my mouth to make a joke, but the look in his eyes stopped me. Beneath the steel was exhaustion. Fear.
I swallowed. "I'm sorry."
The words hung awkwardly in the air.
He exhaled and placed a letter on the table between us. The wax seal was broken — the crest of the Winter Court.
"This arrived two days ago," he said. "An envoy we sent to Kvartor has gone missing. They were traveling to Qasratul Jinnan — and no one who goes there without invitation ever returns."
My stomach tightened. "You think something happened to them?"
"I think I'm sending you to find out," he said.
Rhen leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like I was a caged dragon about to spontaneously combust. "So let me get this straight," he said, voice flat. "You're being sent north to investigate a missing envoy… and you're still grinning like you just won a pie-eating contest?"
I shrugged. "What can I say? Danger makes me charming."
He groaned. "You will get us both killed one day."
"Only if you complain too much," I said.
He didn't answer. Probably wise.
I stepped toward the stables, my boots echoing against the marble floor. The winter wind outside made the mountains look like jagged teeth in the sky. I shivered, though not from cold. Kvartor was far — farther than I'd ever traveled beyond Dragonmorath's southern borders — and even from a distance, the north had a way of making you feel like the world itself was watching.
Rhen handed me a rolled map. "Here. The route to Kvartor. Avoid the western passes — too many storms this season. And Alec…" His eyes narrowed. "No heroics. No wandering off."
I grinned, unrolling the map. "Don't worry. I'm going to blend in perfectly. No one will notice the Crown Prince sneaking through the snow with his lute strapped to his back."
He gave me that look — the one that clearly said you're delusional, and I hate you for it.
I ignored it. "Besides, think of it this way. Kvartor, snow, mysterious missing envoys… it's basically my personal winter adventure."
"You call this adventure?" Rhen muttered. "It's a trap waiting to happen."
"And that's why it's exciting," I said cheerfully.
By sundown, I was mounted and ready. The guards assigned to the escort looked nervous — probably because I'd spent the last half hour joking about snow dragons, frozen bandits, and the mysterious "things that eat foolish princes who wander too far north."
As we rode toward the northern passes, the sun dipped behind jagged peaks, painting the horizon in streaks of gold and crimson. Snow began to fall softly, dusting my cloak and lute with a thin layer of frost.
I glanced at Rhen. "You realize I could get us all killed, right?"
He didn't even flinch. "I know. And yet, somehow, I'm still here."
I laughed softly, letting my breath form small clouds in the cold air. "Well, at least we'll go down in style."
Ahead of us, the mountains rose like frozen sentinels. Kvartor waited somewhere beyond the ridge — the last city before Qasratul Jinnan's secrets. Beyond that, no one dared tread.
And somewhere inside me, I felt the faintest thrill of fear — and excitement.
Because what lay beyond Kvartor wasn't just snow and stone. It was mystery. Power. And maybe… something that could change everything.
And if I had to face it with a lute on my back and Rhen complaining every step of the way… so be it.
After all, I was Alec of Dragonmorath. Fire and song, mischief and charm. And sometimes, just sometimes, even a prince could surprise the world.
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