"I truly missed eating the food you cook," Caladros said, his voice warm as he tore into a perfectly roasted chicken thigh. The golden skin cracked under his teeth, releasing a flood of juices that danced across his tongue. He savored the taste, closing his eyes momentarily as the aroma of herbs and spices filled his nostrils.
It had been a long time since he'd last enjoyed a proper meal—well, in his perception, anyway. In reality, only a few hours had passed in the mortal world, and he hadn't truly starved while in Astaroth's realm. Perhaps it was because his physical body had remained in the palace. What wandered through that strange domain was likely his soul—or something entirely different.
There, food had been nothing more than flavorless flesh, devoid of the satisfaction he craved. Even when he forced himself to eat, he neither felt hunger nor fullness. The absence of taste, texture, and satiation had left him longing for something real.
Now, sitting at the table in his chambers, the warm, savory meals Rose prepared felt like a lifeline. Every bite reminded him that he was alive, grounded in a world where simple pleasures still existed. Rose, his personal maid, moved about quietly, her movements graceful yet efficient as she cleaned the kitchen. Her presence was comforting, a constant that kept him tethered to his humanity.
Caladros leaned back in his chair and let out a satisfied burp, unabashed. "That hit the spot," he said, patting his stomach. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then stood up with a relaxed stretch. "Rose, come with me to His Majesty."
Rose froze mid-step, her hands gripping the edge of the tablecloth she'd been straightening. "To the king?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
"Yes," Caladros replied, nodding. "There's something I need to discuss with him."
"As you wish, Your Highness," Rose said, though she avoided his gaze, her cheeks tinged pink.
Caladros waited by the doorway as Rose quickly tidied up, her movements growing more hurried under his watchful eye. Once she finished, they set off together, their footsteps echoing lightly against the polished marble floors of the palace halls. The afternoon sun streamed through stained glass windows, painting the corridors in hues of amber and violet.
Outside, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a softer, more diffused light across the kingdom. Caladros noted how it felt different from when he had awakened—it was quieter now, more subdued. Yet within him, his thoughts swirled restlessly.
As they approached the throne room, the massive oak doors loomed before them, adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and crowns. Just as Caladros was about to enter, the doors swung open, revealing none other than his elder brother, Crown Prince Liverté Fenwynn Daelithor Amaranth.
"Little Cal!" Liverté greeted him with a broad smile, his deep voice carrying warmth and relief. "Father told me you woke up. I was just on my way to visit you. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Caladros replied, rolling his shoulders and even jumping lightly in place to demonstrate his recovery. "Fully healed."
"That's a relief." Liverté let out a long breath, his serious demeanor softening. "You had us worried for a moment."
"What were you talking about with Father?" Caladros asked, curious.
Liverté's smile faltered, replaced by a somber expression. "We discussed the investigation into the assassination attempt."
Caladros's interest piqued. "What did you find?"
Liverté hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one else was listening. Finally, he leaned closer and whispered, "We're still chasing shadows regarding the mastermind, but we've uncovered something peculiar about Duchess Marianna."
"Duchess Marianna?" Caladros raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"
"It's complicated." Liverté sighed, his voice lowering further. "Thirty years ago, the Duchess came to our kingdom as an outsider, marrying the late Duke Orkozo. Officially, she was a commoner who migrated from beyond the borders. But our investigation suggests otherwise."
Caladros frowned. "Go on."
Liverté nodded grimly. "It appears Duchess Marianna was connected to the royal family of Ironglade. We suspect she was none other than Princess Ezra, the king's daughter who vanished decades ago after the massacre of six royal family members during a banquet."
The name struck a chord. Caladros had heard of Princess Ezra in old rumors—how she had mysteriously disappeared without a trace after that night of bloodshed. Though no body was ever found, many had assumed her fate was sealed alongside her kin.
"Are you suggesting the Duchess was hiding her royal lineage all this time?" Caladros asked, his mind racing.
"It's plausible," Liverté said, rubbing his temple. "We haven't confirmed it yet, but the timelines align. If this is true, her death might be more significant than we realized."
"Does the king of Ironglade know?" Caladros wondered aloud. "If he does, it might explain—"
"We don't know yet," Liverté cut in, shaking his head. "Without clear evidence, it's too dangerous to approach Ironglade. For now, we're keeping this information under wraps."
Caladros fell silent, his gaze distant. If Duchess Marianna truly was Princess Ezra, her assassination could have far-reaching implications. But the question remained: why now? She had long withdrawn from politics, focusing on personal projects with no apparent connection to kingdom affairs. Who would benefit from her death, and why?
Liverté's voice broke through his thoughts. "Speculation won't get us far, Little Cal. For now, focus on your recovery. I'll keep you updated as we learn more."
"Understood." Caladros nodded.
With that, Liverté gave his younger brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading off toward his office. "Stay out of trouble," he called over his shoulder, a teasing smile back on his face.
Caladros smirked faintly. "You too, big brother."
Once Liverté disappeared down the corridor, Caladros turned to Rose. Her exhaustion was evident—dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her shoulders sagged slightly despite her effort to maintain her composure.
"You should rest," Caladros said gently.
"But—"
"No buts." He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her protest. "I'm fully recovered now. You've done enough."
Rose hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually relented with a small nod. "As you wish, Your Highness."
After seeing her off, Caladros finally entered the throne room. The grandeur of the chamber never failed to awe him. Towering columns lined the hall, their surfaces etched with ancient glyphs, while an enormous chandelier hung above, casting golden light across the polished floor. At the far end, his father sat upon the elevated throne, exuding an air of authority that few dared to challenge.
The king's eyes widened slightly in surprise as Caladros approached. "Little Cal," he greeted, his deep voice carrying both curiosity and warmth. "What brings you here?"
Caladros paused, meeting the gaze of Herald Northblight, the king's trusted advisor who stood beside the throne. Then, with a steady voice, he said, "I have something urgent to discuss with you, Father."