It was early afternoon. Inside and out, the entire royal household buzzed with preparations for Edmund’s celebration. Servants hurried along the corridors, stewards checked decorations twice over, and the gardens outside were being polished to perfection. Near the palace gates, two familiar children worked on the finishing touches in the front garden.

  Leif’s green shirt and black trousers were already covered in soil and leaves, as usual. He crouched beside a hedgerow, studying a stubborn branch. “Serena, could you hand me the shears? This one’s too long.”

  Serena, dressed in her red, long-sleeved kirtle, looked up from the tools she was arranging. Leif had been careful not to let her clothes get dirty, assigning her the gentler tasks of handing tools and trimming small shrubs. She picked up the shears and passed them over. “Here you go.”

  Leif paused a heartbeat too long, staring at her before taking them.

  Serena tilted her head. “Is something… wrong?”

  “No, nothing wrong,” he blurted, taking the shears with a small smile. “Thank you.”

  She nodded and returned to trimming her little shrub. Whether she intended to make it round or flat, only she knew. All the while, her dream never left her thoughts—the voices, the sounds, the pale hand, all too vivid. Too real. And the woman’s words, her voice sounding like her last exhale, echoed in her mind.

  Take my hand.

  Let the night fall.

  “What could they mean?” Serena wondered. “Should I tell Leif?”

  Before she could think further about it, Serena and Leif caught a glimpse of Edmund stepping out of the palace. Beside him walked Aristide and Conrad, their pace steady and solemn. The two children waved, and Edmund turned toward them, altering his path.

  “Where are you going, Highness?” Leif called.

  “We’re… going to the cemetery,” Edmund answered quietly. “I’m going to pay my respects to my retainers.”

  Leif’s smile faded. A gentle breeze drifted through the garden, stirring leaves and petals across the stone path. The work in the palace had been a distraction, a welcome escape from the memories of the ambush. But the mention of the fallen peeled back the quiet layer of normalcy, and sorrow stirred beneath it.

  Serena’s hands stilled on the shears. “Can I come… with you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Edmund blinked. “Are you sure? It’s a long walk from here. You just recovered, and I don’t want you to get tired.”

  Serena nodded. “They… saved me too. I want to… thank them as well.”

  Edmund turned to his companions. Aristide and Conrad exchanged a glance and nodded.

  “I can carry her on my back if she gets tired along the way,” Conrad offered as he approached. “They’ll be happy to know you both survived.”

  Now joined by Serena and Leif, Edmund made his way out of the main gate, stepping into the bustle of the capital. The townsfolk were just as busy as the palace staff.

  Running, climbing ladders, shouting instructions across the street. Colorful draping hung between windows, flowerpots lined the sidewalks, and the road itself bustled with men hauling furniture and caravans filled with fruit and vegetables.

  “So this is why you didn’t take a carriage,” Leif muttered.

  “Exactly,” Aristide agreed. “We wouldn’t get ten feet with this crowd.”

  The moment Edmund stepped onto the main street, time seemed to stop. Every sound died. Workers froze in place, vendors paused mid-sale, a man carrying a crate of apples nearly dropped it. Slowly, one by one, heads turned. Then the cheers erupted.

  “Look! It’s Prince Edmund!”

  “The prince is all right!”

  “Praise the gods!”

  People surged forward with smiles, calls of relief and well-wishes. Some asked if he was hurt, others wished him an early happy birthday, hands reaching just to touch his shoulder.

  “Everyone!” Conrad’s voice boomed over the crowd, cutting through the noise like a hammer. “The prince has important business to attend to. Please give him space and return to your duties.”

  The crowd bowed deeply, many twice, before reluctantly stepping aside. Even as they resumed their work, several couldn’t help but steal glances at the young prince as he passed.

  As Edmund walked along the sidewalk, he approached a small flower shop. A young florist stood at the entrance, wearing a white long-sleeved chemise with a blue cyclas over it, her brown hair tied neatly in a bun. She clutched a carefully arranged bouquet in both hands as if she had been waiting for him. “Happy birthday, Prince Edmund,” she said, cheeks tinged pink.

  Edmund accepted the flowers with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

  Inside the shop, an elderly man in a rocking chair stirred. He lifted his head, eyes unfocused, and called toward the girl.

  “Who… who are you talking to, Jessica?”

  “It’s Prince Edmund, Grandpa,” she corrected, her voice a little too loud.

  “Edmund… Edmund…” the old man murmured, tapping his knee as he searched his memory. “Ah! Edmund Cartier?”

  The girl let out a tiny groan. “No, Grandpa… the Prince! King Renault’s son!”

  “King Renault…” the old man repeated, drifting into thought again.

  The girl slapped her forehead and turned back to the prince, bowing quickly. “I’m so sorry, Highness. My grandpa’s memory isn’t what it used to be. He keeps mixing people up.” She straightened, offering a shy smile. “My name’s Joana, by the way.”

  “It’s all right,” Edmund assured her. “Nice to meet you, Joana.”

  Joana’s brown eyes caught the sunlight, sparkling with sudden joy. Her cheeks flushed pink. He said my name, she whispered to herself. She clasped both hands to her face, too dazzled to hear Edmund repeating it again.

  “Jeanine!” her grandfather called from inside the shop. “The Governor is calling you!”

  Joana froze. Silence hung for a heartbeat as Edmund and everyone else turned to look at her.

  “Joana?” Edmund repeated gently, snapping her back from her daze.

  She blinked rapidly, then bowed in a flustered rush. “Sorry, Prince, I just—”

  She giggled, unable to contain her smile. “I just got a little… overwhelmed.”

  “Oh—uh, thanks, I guess,” Edmund said, rubbing the back of his head, unsure how to handle her enthusiasm. “Actually… could I get a few more flowers from you?”

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  “Huh?” Joana popped upright, eyes huge. “Yes! Of course!”

  She scrambled to gather a handful of blossoms, mixing colors almost at random but with obvious care. “Are these fine, or did you want a specific color?” she asked breathlessly.

  “That’s perfect,” Edmund said. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

  Joana shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no, please, Your Highness. You can have as many flowers as you want. No charge!”

  “But you already gave me a bouquet, and these are worth something…” Edmund rummaged through his pouch. “Here—will this be enough?”

  A couple of silver coins shimmered in his palm.

  Though the price far exceeded the flowers’ worth, Joana accepted the two silver coins at Edmund’s gentle insistence. She thanked the prince, bowing repeatedly, and as soon as he walked away, she hid the coins deep inside her pocket. A small treasure she vowed never to spend. A quiet proof that the prince had stopped at her little shop.

  After a long walk and a few dozen well-wishers eager to greet both Edmund and Aristide, the group finally reached the cemetery.

  The afternoon sun blazed overhead, but the cool autumn wind softened its heat.

  Leaves drifted down in slow spirals, scattering shades of red, gold, and amber across the stone path. The quiet of the place wrapped around them like a veil.

  Edmund approached the first grave, kneeling to place a small handful of flowers by the fresh earth. Then the next. And the next. His voice trembled as he spoke each name.

  “Hubert… Simon… Fulk…”

  Tears blurred his vision. He pressed a hand against his eyes. “They stood their ground… to keep me alive. Thank you. For giving your lives… to bring us home.”

  Serena stepped silently beside him. She bowed low, her hands gently placed before the gravestone.

  “Thank you… everyone… for keeping us safe,” she whispered. “May you… peacefully return… to Hemera.”

  Aristide and Leif stood behind them, both quiet. Aristide’s usual cheer was gone, replaced by a solemn stillness; Leif’s brows were drawn, fists clenched at his sides. The weight of death had settled even on the young.

  Conrad stepped forward and halted a respectful distance away, his voice steady, though his gaze softened. “Highness, you must remain strong. This is only the first of many sacrifices that will be made in your name, and in your honor, as the future king of our humble nation.”

  “The first… of many,” Edmund thought to himself. “As the future king.”

  “This is the burden of the crown, Prince Edmund,” Conrad continued, his voice steady but gentle. “To keep going, to keep leading, despite all you lose along the way.”

  Edmund wiped his tears with the back of his hand, forcing his breath to steady. He straightened his posture, the grief reshaping itself into resolve. Turning to Serena, he placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “I’m sure they heard your prayer,” he murmured.

  Serena bowed her head. Tears clung to her lashes, and Edmund gently brushed them away with his thumb, a silent gesture of comfort for the girl who had prayed beside him. He then faced Conrad again. “Thank you… for coming with us.”

  Conrad bowed with quiet respect. “It is an honor to join you in paying respects to our fallen comrades, Highness.”

  A final moment of silence passed among the five of them. Wind stirred the leaves, the rustling like a soft chorus of farewells. Then, together, they left the cemetery.

  As they made their way back toward the palace, the road grew livelier. Carriages passed by, each more ornate than the last. Coachmen shouted directions, footmen rushed to unload trunks while the passengers inside leaned out of carriage windows to glimpse the capital’s preparations.

  “The nobles are arriving,” Aristide murmured.

  One carriage in the distance stood out immediately, and the moment Conrad’s eyes fell on it, he slowed to a halt. A crimson transport rolled forward, gilded not with gold but with polished amber-toned giltwood. Its emblem was unmistakable: two armored knights astride armored warhorses, both rearing back with lances raised high, their blades crossing at the center. Yellow and red flared sharply against the white backdrop.

  “Highnesses…” Conrad breathed.

  Edmund and Aristide were already staring at it, tension creeping across both their faces.

  “We saw,” Aristide muttered.

  “Trinovantes,” Edmund said, the name heavy on his tongue.

  His expression hardened, not fear, but wary recognition. Leif and Serena exchanged confused glances, unaware of the emblem’s significance. But the princes and their knight knew exactly what it meant for such a crest to appear in Aurelith. The air grew colder.

  “Well, staring at it won’t make it leave now, will it?” Aristide said at last, breaking the tension. “Let’s head back to the palace and finish the preparations.”

  “Right,” Leif agreed, turning to Serena. “We still have hedges to trim!”

  Serena nodded quietly.

  “We’d best move,” Conrad urged.

  Edmund cast one last glance at the distant crimson carriage before turning away. The group reached the palace by midafternoon. At the gates, Conrad bowed deeply. “I wish you the most joyous celebration, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you, Sir Conrad,” Edmund replied.

  As the knight walked off to return Damien’s sword and resume his duties, Aristide faced his brother. “So, should we check the banquet hall now?”

  Still near the front garden, Edmund considered it. “Maybe we can stay with Leif and Serena and help them here, then—”

  “Ed!”

  All four turned. A girl hurried out of the palace, her presence almost sunlit in its brightness.

  She wore a simple yet elegant village dress: a white chemise resting off her shoulders, its wide gathered neckline revealing the soft line of her collarbones. Short, puffed sleeves framed her arms. Over it, she wore an olive-green bodice laced snugly at the waist, cords crossing neatly through brass eyelets. Two small bows held the shoulder straps in place. A long, gently pleated brown skirt swayed around her legs with each step. Her loose brown hair swung behind her as she ran.

  Edmund’s face lit instantly. “Nadja!”

  She reached him in two more steps and leapt into his arms, hugging him tight. “I’m so happy you’re all right!” she said, breathless.

  Edmund returned the embrace warmly. “It’s great to see you, Nadja.”

  She pulled back, cheeks flushed. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I wanted to help and see you right away, but Father wouldn’t let me leave after what happened in the forest.”

  “Don’t worry. Lord Montclair is right to be cautious,” Edmund said. “Is he here with you?”

  Nadja nodded. “That’s the only reason I was able to come here.”

  Only then did she notice the others. She brightened. “Oh! Hey, Aristide. Hi, Leif. Hi, Serena.”

  Aristide lifted a hand. “Greetings, Lady Montclair.”

  Leif and Serena bowed together. Leif greeted Nadja for both of them. “Welcome, Lady Montclair.”

  Nadja arched her brows and gave a shy smile. “Oh, you don’t have to be so formal. Just Nadja is fine.”

  The two boys smiled back.

  “So,” Edmund asked, “what do you think of the palace?”

  Nadja’s gray eyes brightened instantly. “Ah! Now that you mention it, everything’s wonderful, but you really need to fix a few things in the banquet hall. Some tables aren’t aligned, two tablecloths still have creases, and one of the curtains on the east wall is—”

  “How about we go with you and take care of those issues?” Aristide cut in quickly, before she could list the entire hall’s flaws. He looked at his brother. “Edmund?”

  “I… suppose we can,” Edmund conceded, then turned to the two Alvarynn. “Is it all right if we check the banquet hall first?”

  “Of course, Highness,” Leif said. “We’ll stay here to finish the work.”

  Serena nodded softly. “We’ll see you later… Highness.”

  “I guess that settles it,” Aristide declared.

  “Right. See you two later,” Edmund added.

  “Bye, Leif! Bye, Serena!” Nadja waved cheerfully. Then she clasped Edmund’s wrist with sudden determination. “Now, let’s fix those mismatched curtains!”

  She tugged him toward the palace doors, Edmund stumbling behind her while Aristide followed with a long-suffering sigh.

  With the palace garden quiet once more, Serena and Leif returned to trimming the hedges. By late afternoon, their work was finished, rows neatly shaped, the fallen leaves swept aside.

  Suddenly, a voice called from behind them, warm and familiar.

  “Serena! Leif!”

  The two turned to see Odilon approaching, accompanied by his attendant and guard.

  “Lord Odilon,” they said, bowing.

  Odilon stopped a few paces away. His gaze lingered on Serena longer than usual.

  “Serena,” he asked gently, “how are you doing?”

  Serena lifted her head. “I’m doing fine… Lord Odilon. Thank you… for asking.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. And your speech has improved,” Odilon observed with a proud smile before turning to Leif. “Well done, Leif. You’ve guided her well.”

  Leif straightened, flustered. “I can’t take the credit, Lord Odilon. I helped a little, but Edmund spent far more time teaching her to read and write. He occasionally took her around the city too, so she could practice speaking with others.”

  “I see,” Odilon said, nodding thoughtfully. Then he raised a single finger. “But never underestimate your contribution. Every act, no matter how small, strengthens the whole.”

  He gestured to the hedges around them. “Look at this garden. Who would have trimmed these if you hadn’t been here?”

  Leif stared at the neatly cut shrubs, cheeks warming. “Well… I suppose that’s true.”

  The three spoke for a while longer—Odilon asking after Idun, Serena softly recounting what had happened since they last saw each other, Leif sharing a few easy stories. But soon enough, the sun dipped lower, and the two youths exchanged a glance.

  “We should return home now, Lord Odilon,” Leif said. “We need to wash up and help my mother prepare dinner.”

  “Of course,” Odilon said. “Go ahead. And give Idun my regards.”

  “Have a good afternoon,” Leif added, and he and Serena bowed before heading toward the path.

  Odilon watched them go. As soon as they were out of sight, his breathing grew unsteady, each exhale trembling faintly. His shoulders sagged, the smile he had worn slipping away. Though he had known Serena for two years, though she had always been gentle, harmless, bright…

  Her presence stirred an old, instinctive dread in him. A memory from a place he wished he had never seen.

  “Thank you… Leif. Edmund,” he whispered to the empty path.

  Then he turned away, steeling himself for the task Renault had entrusted to him.