"Are you..."
Kristof Drake's question lingered in the air like a blade suspended mid-fall.
"Are you Prince Gerrad?"
The wind shifted across the grassland, brushing against Kiara's sleeves as though urging her to answer carefully.
For a brief moment, something flickered across her face, not fear, not anger, but calculation.
The name he uttered carried weight, rumor, and conspiracy. The fourth prince of the Phoenix Dynasty was whispered to control WEB, the most elusive intelligence network in the empire. That identity was both shield and noose.
Kristof had never met the fourth prince in person. He was reaching into the dark and hoping his hand closed around truth.
Kiara's lips curved faintly, though her eyes remained cold.
"Who I am," she said at last, voice calm and measured, "is of no importance to you, brat."
She stepped back slowly, letting her hand fall from his shoulder. The tension between them stretched thin, taut as a wire.
