The air in the banquet hall was heavy with unspoken tension, veiled behind forced smiles and the clinking of silverware. Flynn sat at the long royal table, eyes fixed on his untouched glass of wine. He had played the dutiful prince well enough these past few days but his patience was waning.
The name had echoed again today.
Khalid Caelum.
It wasn't just a name. It was a wound that refused to scar over.
He had heard it whispered among the courtiers. Spoken by advisors. Even written on the sealed letter his attendant delivered this morning, bearing the emblem of the Kingdom of Arzaleon.
Flynn's fingers curled around the stem of the glass.
Khalid Caelum… why now?
The clamor of the court faded into a low hum as his thoughts spiraled inward. He remembered Khalid's face not as Flynn Winterbell, the crown prince of Winterbell but as Caelan, the knight who once stood at Khalid's side. He remembered the warmth of his smile, the gentleness of his touch in stolen moments beneath moonlight and the cold steel that had pierced his abdomen when betrayal replaced love.
The memory hit like a blow.
He had died believing in him.
"Your Highness?"
Flynn flinched.
Lady Miria, one of his stepmother's ladies-in-waiting, looked at him with a tilt of concern. "Is something the matter?"
He offered her a faint smile. "Just… lost in thought."
That was all he could give. Anything more would tear the mask he wore.
He excused himself early from the table, the weight of the hall suffocating him. As he walked the marble corridors of the palace, now familiar yet still foreign, he tried to gather his thoughts. Tried to reason with himself.
He might not be the same. It's been years.
But a voice whispered from within him.
And yet… if it is him, what will you do, Caelan?
He stopped in front of a mirror. Not Caelan anymore. Flynn. Silver hair like his father's, sharp blue eyes of royal blood. But beneath it all he still bore the soul of a knight who died for love.
And now, that love was walking into his kingdom again.
As a guest.
As a duke.
As an enemy.
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