The palace loomed ahead, its golden spires glinting beneath the afternoon sun, but I couldn’t focus on its grandeur. My new suit—stiff, tailored, and undeniably uncomfortable—itched at my throat, and my mother’s absence weighed heavier than the fabric draped over my shoulders. I knew she was safe, but I didn’t like being so far away from her. It was irrational but the distance gnawed at me, a familiar anxiety I felt ever since being brought back.

  The halls of the main palace stretched before me, grand and imposing, every inch of them designed to project power. The marble floors gleamed beneath my polished shoes, their smooth surface so pristine that I could see my own distorted reflection staring back at me. I ignored the pillars just as I had the first time, not concerned with the spells carved onto them. I already knew what they did; protected the main palace from being destroyed by magic. It had been those spells that protected Yssac and his father when they hid like cowards from my fire and led to Caspian killing me.

  I clenched my hands, forcing myself to breathe. I wasn’t here to burn the palace down and I wasn’t here for revenge. I was here for my mother, for the future I had sworn to change. Even so, the weight of the memories lingered, the echoes of another life where I had stood in these halls not as a boy, but as something monstrous.

  I swallowed hard, forcing my fists to relax at my sides. The whispers of the servants were growing louder, a tide of murmured speculation that pressed against my ears from all directions.

  “Is that the boy the princess adopted?”

  “Why now, after all these years? She’s never taken an interest in children before.”

  “He’s from Polec. Nothing good comes from that frozen place.”

  “He remind me of–”

  “Hush! What if they hear us?”

  It was too much; too many voices layered over one another, too many words scraping against my already fraying patience. I had always struggled with this in my first life, the way my hearing had sharpened once my eyes, how it became difficult to filter out the noise. I knew that once my horns grew in, the problem would lessen—I would be able to control what I heard, what I ignored. But for now, I had to endure and it took all of my self control not to cover my ears for relief.

  I flinched as a hand came down on my shoulder, a firm but measured weight that startled me just enough to drag me back to the present. I turned, blinking up at Caspian, who was watching me with an expression that was neither stern nor overly kind. He had stopped us from walking and I watched with confusion as he reached into jacket and pulled out something small and soft.

  “It does you no good to pretend you are okay when you’re not,” he said plainly, holding out the small pair of earmuffs. They were thin except for where they went over my ears and I could tell from the design they were made for summer use instead of winter. “Use them until you learn to filter out sound.”

  I stared at them, caught entirely off guard by the offer. I didn’t know much about the imperial family or Caspian in general, but he didn’t seem the sort of person to offer comfort easily. And yet, here he was, extending something as simple as earmuffs, acknowledging a struggle I hadn’t voiced aloud. Was it simply because I was a child, or was it because I was now his son?

  I hesitated, glancing between him and the offered earmuffs. My pride wanted me to refuse, to grit my teeth and endure as I always had. But the pounding in my head from the layered voices, the sharp, grating whispers that refused to quiet—it was unbearable. Reluctantly, I reached out, taking them from his hands with slow, measured movements.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, feeling awkward even as I adjusted them over my ears and the relief was instant. The noises didn’t disappear entirely, but the overwhelming flood of whispers dulled, becoming a low murmur rather than a piercing tide of voices. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my shoulders loosening ever so slightly.

  Caspian simply nodded, watching me with the same neutral expression. “Can you still hear me?”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as Isadora finally turned back to look at us. Her lips quirked slightly before she reached out, smoothing down the collar of my suit.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “We shouldn’t keep my parents waiting.”

  I nodded again, feeling oddly exposed beneath her gaze. The path to the throne room was long, every step echoing in the vast hallways. Massive paintings lined the walls, depicting past emperors and empresses, each one framed in gilded gold. The chandeliers above us cast intricate patterns of light against the polished floors, the air thick with the faint scent of incense. The farther we walked, the more I noticed the lack of extravagance, how each accent served a purpose. To an untrained eye, it was all decorum; the typical waste you would expect from a palace of the ruling imperial family, but it was obvious to me that it all served to send a message.

  Naera will not fall.

  When we finally reached the throne room doors, I took Isadora’s hand before she or Caspian could say anything. It was normal for a child my age to be nervous, especially after how my mother had fussed over me before we left. She had made me promise to be respectful, even though I had been a model child since my father’s funeral. I could be a troublemaker, but I was never one to overstep if I knew it would affect my mother, even before my rebirth.

  I lowered my eyes, letting my fingers curl slightly against hers as the towering doors were pulled open. Marble floors gave way to a soft purple carpet and I kept my gaze carefully trained on it as we stepped inside. The throne room was massive, its vaulted ceiling high enough that the sound of our footsteps barely echoed despite the vastness of the space. I was tempted to look around, but I forced myself to keep up my shy demeanor, as if overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all.

  We moved forward, each step careful and measured. Caspian walked a half-step behind us, his posture straight, every movement exuding the quiet confidence of someone who had stood in this room countless times. Isadora remained beside me, her grip on my hand warm but firm, a silent reassurance that I wasn’t alone. I could tell she was staring ahead from the way she walked, and considering it was her own parents she was facing, it made sense that she would approach them so boldly.

  “Crown Princess Isadora Trokha and Her honorable husband, Crown Prince Caspian Trokha.” The announcer finally spoke, and I immediately heard the whispers as I was not announced despite being led by the crown princess herself. Thanks to the ear muffs, the whispers were only mildly distracting and I kept my focus on the soft purple carpet beneath my feet, pretending not to notice the reaction. I had expected it; the nobility thrived on predictability, and nothing was more predictable than their love for gossip.

  We came to a stop, and Isadora gently squeezed my hand before speaking, her voice steady and filled with the quiet authority expected of a future empress.

  “Great sun and moon of Naera, thank you for granting us an audience.”

  I bowed as I felt Isadora dip her head, still keeping my gaze down as I heard the whispering end, everyone waiting to see what the reason for the audience was. Isadora seemed to be waiting for something, as she remained quiet as Caspian stepped up beside us. She must have seen whatever she was waiting for, as I felt her squeeze my hand before she continued speaking.

  “I have come before you to present my son, Cyran Virni Trokha, and have you acknowledged his place in our family,” Isadora continued and I squeezed her hand as I heard my new middle name. It was familiar to me; a name my mother had told me after we moved to the Marquess’s estate. Her and my father had always wanted a second child, but kept pushing it off until they felt able to provide for two children. Virni would have been the name of my younger sibling, and I felt my heart twist as I realized my mother had given it to me. I was her one and only. and she had placed all her hope and pride in me.

  The throne room was silent for a long moment, the weight of Isadora’s words settling over the gathered nobles and attendants. The air felt thick, charged with unspoken tension. I allowed myself a small, careful glance upward, just enough to take in the two figures seated at the far end of the hall.

  The Emperor of Naera was everything I expected him to be—regal, imposing, his presence heavy even without speaking a word. His dark hair was streaked with silver, neatly tied back to expose sharp features carved from years of rule. His dark clothing was surprisingly practical, the only embellishments being the fine purple sash across his waist and chest and the fur-lined cloak on his shoulders. His gaze was unreadable, his expression impassive as he studied his daughter with the patience of a ruler accustomed to hearing impossible requests.

  But it was the Empress who drew my attention. She sat beside him with an effortless grace, her presence no less commanding despite the Emperor’s imposing figure. Draped in deep sapphire silk that shimmered in the torchlight, she seemed carved from a different kind of authority—one tempered by wisdom rather than sheer force. Her auburn hair was swept into an intricate style, with only a few loose strands softening the regal lines of her face.

  As soon as her dark eyes met mine, she stood.

  A sharp inhale echoed across the throne room, though I couldn’t tell if it had come from her or the gathered nobles. The Empress’s face had gone completely white, her hands tightening into fists as she stared at me with wide, stricken eyes. Her dark blue robes shimmered with delicate embroidery, glistening under the light, but she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

  “It… can’t be.”