Chapter 9: Before the Hunt
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The morning after my visit to the Whisper Hallows felt unusually still.
Not the calm kind of stillness. The kind that came before a storm, when the world held its breath and the wind forgot how to move.
I stood at the tall windows of my chambers, staring out at the palace grounds. Even from this height, I could see the early stirrings of the royal household. Guards changing shifts. Maids hurrying through side gardens with breakfast baskets. Noble guests arriving in glossy carriages—some from distant regions—draped in silks and secrets.
All of them preparing for the Grand Hunt.
And somewhere among them, people were planning my death.
Funny how everything looked so beautiful from far away.
I spent the next few hours in silence.
Reading.
Re-reading the map Wren had given me.
Writing letters I would never send.
And polishing Calemir, the enchanted blade I still hadn't grown used to. I didn't have a sword master—I hadn't asked Mirelle again. Not yet. Something about that felt… too close. Too soon. She wasn't the type to train anyone she didn't trust fully, and I hadn't earned that much of her yet.
But maybe soon.
Maybe.
Around midday, Claribel sent word.
It wasn't a formal summons. Just a short note folded into a pink rose petal envelope, delivered with the elegance only she could manage.
Come walk with me. Garden path behind the west chapel. - Claribel
No fancy titles. No royal script. Just her name, written in her careful, firm hand.
So I went.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
The chapel gardens were quiet—just out of earshot from the rest of the palace, hidden between rose walls and trailing ivy. A place built for privacy under the illusion of holiness.
She was waiting by the fountain.
A pale blue dress, simple but elegant. No guards. No maids. Just her and the water.
She looked up as I approached.
"You came," she said softly.
"Of course," I said. "Your letter was very persuasive."
Claribel smiled faintly. "I thought about making it scented, but that felt a bit excessive."
"I would've assumed poison."
She laughed.
It was a small sound, but real.
And warm.
She turned back to the fountain. The water trickled softly as birds chirped from high branches.
For a while, we didn't speak.
Not out of discomfort.
But out of understanding.
Claribel finally broke the silence.
"I overheard something this morning," she said. "In the drawing room. One of the Marlowe retainers."
My jaw tensed.
"And?"
"He said you wouldn't last a day in the hunt."
She looked at me—not with pity, but with caution.
"And he didn't mean the beasts."
"I know," I said quietly.
"I wanted to warn you."
"You already did."
A pause.
Then, softer: "Lucien… why are you still going?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because I'd been asking myself the same thing.
Why step into a lion's mouth willingly?
Why not fake illness? Dodge the invitation? Disappear for a few weeks and let things cool?
Because if I did that, I'd lose the only advantage I had.
Visibility.
The court was watching me.
Waiting for me to fail, or lash out, or fall.
So I had to stand. Publicly. Proudly. Even if my knees shook.
I finally answered her.
"Because if I don't go," I said, "they win."
Claribel's expression changed—not dramatically, but just enough.
Her eyes softened. Her posture relaxed.
"You really are changing," she whispered.
I tilted my head. "Is that a good thing?"
"I don't know yet," she said honestly. "But it's… interesting."
She walked along the edge of the fountain, trailing her fingers through the water.
"When I first met you," she said, "I thought you were playing a role. The cruel prince. The flawless shadow. I told myself: he's just another mask in a room full of masks."
"I was."
"Maybe. But lately… I see someone else."
"Who?"
Claribel turned to me, sunlight catching in her copper-blonde hair.
"Someone trying," she said. "And that's more than most people ever do."
[Ding!]
[Claribel Affection +4 — Status: Quiet Admiration]
[New Event Unlocked: "Moonlight Garden (Optional)"]
She stepped closer. Not too close. But enough that I could smell the faint rose perfume she always wore—clean and soft, not overpowering.
"Be careful in the woods," she said. "No matter how brave you try to be, don't forget: some people don't want you to change."
"I know," I said.
She paused.
Then, as if weighing the words before saying them:
"And if you ever need someone to watch your back…"
I raised a brow.
"Are you offering to become my bodyguard?"
She smiled. "I'm offering to be your friend."
That stopped me more than anything.
Not a political ally. Not a pawn or a partner.
A friend.
It had been so long since anyone offered that without a price.
"…Thank you," I said, quieter than I meant.
She nodded. "You're welcome."
Then she turned and walked away—graceful, calm, like always.
But I noticed something new.
She didn't walk like someone trying to leave me behind.
She walked like someone who trusted I'd follow.
Back in my chambers, I found another unexpected visitor.
Roland.
He stood near the fireplace, arms behind his back, holding a black case.
"You'll be needing this," he said.
I opened the case.
Inside: A set of leather travel armor—lightweight but reinforced, deep blue with silver trim. Flexible enough to move through a forest, but strong enough to stop a blade.
And beneath it, a rolled map of the forest trail. Annotated. Detailed. Marked with escape routes and supply drops.
"You prepared this?" I asked.
He nodded. "I served your father once. I know what it means when a hunt becomes a message."
I looked up at him.
"You believe me now?"
He didn't smile. But he didn't hesitate.
"I believe in you, my prince," he said. "Not the one you used to be. The one standing here."
That meant more than he knew.
Maybe even more than I knew.
That night, I stood in front of the mirror again.
I wore the armor now—fit perfectly, snug but comfortable. The cloak was fastened over one shoulder, the sword strapped diagonally across my back.
I looked like a noble.
I looked like a warrior.
But more than anything… I looked like someone choosing his path.
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