The town square stank of iron and fear, and though the man's head lay cleanly severed in the basket, a thin trail of blood still crept along the stone floor.
Velena had left without a second glance, but the silence she carved in her wake began to unravel like a thread pulled too tight.
Then came the shouts.
Someone yelled, "He said Nozar was behind it too!"
Another, "They killed Kaelen!"
A rock was thrown, hitting one of the soldiers that surrounded the prince with a clang. And then all hell broke loose.
The crowd surged forward and Lukas watched all of this unfold before his eyes, the captain of the guard commanding his men to hold their ground. Their shields prevented the crowd from running them over but it was clear that they were terribly outnumbered.
Dozens of villagers, once timid, once tired, now stormed forward with a decade of rage sharpening their intent.
Farmers shoved back armored shoulders. Fishmongers spat curses in dialects that Lukas had never heard before. A blacksmith's apprentice struck a soldier's pauldron with a hammer, the clang of steel echoing like a war cry.
And amidst this chaos, Lukas yet again focused on the things that had gone unnoticed by all.
His eyes found the prince.
The fat little man had risen from his throne-like chair, panic twitching across his face.
Prince Darren—robes flaring, face flushed—turned sharply to the captain of the guard beside him.
No words passed between them. Not a single gesture. But there was something in that look. A look that lasted for longer than it should have. More than just a signal. An exchange. A question. It was as if the prince was uncertain and he was waiting upon the captain's orders to act, waiting for permission.
Rennard did not seem like the one who was receiving orders. He seemed like the one who was giving them. What captain of the guard had the right to approve of what a prince did?
Lukas narrowed his eyes.
Immediately, he searched past the crowd; spotting the Kraken who met his gaze and stood at attention. And he reached out to his familiar, their minds connecting such that Lukas could speak to him through thoughts.
"I need you to see into their minds. Especially the prince's. Something's not right. Can you tell if they're communicating the way we are now? Tell me whatever it is that you find."
The Kraken gave him a swift nod and he watched as the octopus do his best work. He was a damn useful familiar for sure.
Lukas watched as the Kraken tuned himself into the strange magical link pulsing between prince and captain.
Moments later, a flood of information came rushing from the Kraken and it took him to register what it all meant because there was a lot to unpack.
It seemed like Lukas' deduction was right. They were talking, alright. Just not with words. Guess he wasn't the only one with the power to communicate through the mind. They were using their thoughts to communicate as well.
"GET THESE RATS BACK!" bellowed Prince Darren, waving his hands at the people of Ilagron.
He leaned forward as far as his belly would allow him, spittle flying from his lips, his bloated face flushed with frustration.
"Do you not know who I am?! You dare put your hands on the soldiers of Nozar?! You dare raise your voices in the presence of ROYALTY?!"
He turned, red-faced, to Velena, who stood calmly on the stone steps, flanked by Jesse and Katrina who were both ready for a fight.
Behind them, stood the Kraken as well as Valkari who was ITCHING for one. She seemed more than willing to have a go at the soldiers and Lukas ordered them to stay back, his mind speaking to all those he'd formed a connection with. He had to be careful with his use of the Crown. If he was not intentional with his usage of this particular Legacy of the Dragon Lords, then he may just end up speaking to everyone around him.
The Countess seemed amused. She nodded, trusting Lukas knew what he was doing and gestured at the slaves who had been freed from the House of Fortunes to stand down, as some of them were clearly ready to jump into the brawl themselves. In fact, Lukas felt like she was enjoying watching all of the chaos unfold.
"Get your damn peasants under control, Velena! Or by my father's orders, I will see this place BURNT to the fucking ground!" He squealed, again glancing towards the captain of the guard.
Then it clicked.
That was fucking insane. He couldn't even believe it but the more he watched, the more it made sense. And they say he was the youngest son of Nozar's King? He might just end up succeeding the throne ahead of his older brothers. What a crafty fucking bastard!
Lukas let out a laugh and that seemed to be the last straw for Rennard who had been standing beside him.
The captain of the guard was tall. But Lukas still stood a head taller than he, for he was a man of massive stature even in his human form. Yet, this didn't stop the man from confronting Lukas. There wasn't a hint of fear in those eyes and Lukas respected that.
Rennard Cain grabbed Lukas by the collar and roared in anger. "Tell your people to stand down! I do not have to be the one to give the order and have all of these people killed! Their blood will be on your hands if they continue endangering Prince Darren's life!"
Lukas let out a laugh and simply shrugged in response.
"And what do you expect me to do, Cap? Just like the pig said, I'm just a peasant in a costume." He chuckled, despite himself, mocking the man in his face.
Rennard shoved him back, turning to his men.
At the same time, Lukas reached out to Velena and Jesse, connecting his mind to hers. He had no reason to reveal the full extent of his power and it was far better to let her take the spotlight, considering all of the attention was already on her after the brutal execution she'd carried out with her own hands.
But they had to do it right. If they didn't execute this right, they were in for a shitload of trouble.
Velena Ilagron was about to become a threat to be reckoned with.
"Enough," came Rennard Cain's voice, low and sharp as drawn steel.
"Mages. Stand ready. Attack."
The air thickened with power as three mages stepped forward, blue sigils already weaving in the space before them. From the rings on their fingers, water coalesced: summoned from the moisture in the very air. What began as droplets became tendrils, then blades. These spells that they cast were not to defend themselves from the people.
These were weapons.
One mage unleashed a volley of razor-thin needles of water that sliced through the air, aimed straight at the front of the crowd. Another molded a spiraling vortex that howled forward like a serpent of the deep. The third conjured something worse: a high-pressure stream, narrow as a dagger, capable of tearing flesh like silk.
Screams broke out.
People turned to run. One man tripped and fell. A girl clutched her mother. And in that instant, death swept toward Ilagron like a tidal curse but then it stopped.
The water froze mid-air.
Not into ice. Not stillness. But motion arrested, caught between breaths. The tendrils coiled, as if uncertain of whether they should proceed.The spinning vortex unraveled strand by strand, and the deadly stream shimmered, quivered.
Then they began to turn, twisting around through the air and changing their trajectory altogether.
Turning them back toward the mages.
They barely had time to scream before the spells reversed course, hovering inches from their throats.
Rennard's eyes snapped to Velena.
The Countess of Ilagron stood on the execution platform, a soft glow in her eyes, her silver hair now caught in a breeze no one else could feel.
It gave her an almost ethereal likeness, all thanks to Jesse's control of the wind.
The entire crowd—both villagers and soldiers—looked towards her, and none could ignore the weight in her gaze.
But Lukas, who stood next to Rennard who watched on in shock, was the one responsible for all of it.
The Divinity of the Seas pulsed through his veins like the heartbeat of the ocean itself. He had not simply been slacking during the last month.
In fact, he'd grown even more powerful in his magic for he would spend hours at a time mastering the spells that had been taught to him. The Lady Kaitlyn Drakos would have been proud to see the progress he had made with his training.
To everyone around them, it was Velena who had acted with her otherworldly magical capabilities.
It was Velena who wielded it like judgment.
And Velena who now stepped forward and spoke.
"People of Ilagron," she bellowed , voice strong and unwavering. "Stand down. You are angry, and you have every right to be. I understand. But you must not allow anger to control you. You must not let the lies of a condemned criminal lead you to your deaths."
The water twisted once more, rising into a serpent's coil above her.
People gasped. Soldiers raised weapons.
Even the Prince flinched, sweating through his silks.
"You heard what the dear Prince said. They were accusations without proof. Wild claims on the edge of the axe. We cannot… and we will not let chaos take root in Ilagron."
She turned her gaze slowly, deliberately, to the soldiers of Nozar.
"We are a proud people," she continued. "But we are not fools."
Then the water snapped back: not to strike, but to dissolve into mist that rained down gently upon the square, washing the blood away in silent rivulets.
Velena exhaled. Cold. Regal.
And finally, she spoke straight to the prince; clear that the next words she spoke were meant for him and only him.
"Ilagron remembers, young prince. That is what I want you to tell your father."
But she was not looking at the fat man. Her eyes, like daggers, sank into Rennard Cain, the man who stood beside Lukas.
"You DARE?!"
The fat man roared, trembling and red-faced, his eyes darting wildly as he looked from the villagers to the soldiers, to Velena still poised above them with the grace of a storm. But there was no power in his voice. Just fear. Confusion. Rage at being rendered irrelevant.
"You—you have no right! You insolent witch!"
Velena didn't flinch. Didn't bow. She just waved her hand away, not even giving him a second glance.
Like he was beneath her notice.
And that broke him.
"I—I am Prince Darren of Nozar!" he shrieked, digging into his coat and pulling free a metal ornament: small, golden, sharpened at the edges, perhaps ceremonial, perhaps meant for throwing, but now gripped like a dagger.
"You'll bow to me or—!"
He flung it.
It cut through the air and struck true.
Katrina yelled out but she had been so caught up with everything that was happening that she didn't have time to react. None of them did.
Velena's head jerked back. The gold dagger's handle struck her in the brow with a sickening crack.
Blood began to trail down her face in slow, vivid rivulets, running red through the lines of her silver hair. The crowd gasped, screams rippling like wind through wheat.
She staggered once.
Touched her temple.
Looked at the blood.
Then, without a word, she bent down, picked up the bloodstained execution axe. With a guttural cry, she hurled the ax with all her might and they watched as it soared through the air.
The ax struck the fat prince dead center in the chest.
The impact sounded like meat hitting stone. Bone cracked. Ribs shattered. The edge of the axe buried itself halfway through his sternum with a wet, horrible crunch. His shriek turned to a gurgle as he stumbled back, eyes wide. He dropped from where he sat, hitting the ground with a soft thud, twitching. Blood fanned out in dark pools beneath his robes, his mouth working for words that would never come.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Velena turned, still bleeding, hair matted red. Her voice was hoarse, dark. "For one of common blood to strike one of nobility is high treason. And the punishment… is death."
She looked directly at the Captain of Prince's Guard yet again. Or more accurately, the true Prince of Nozar: Darren Valmire. The youngest son of the King Daerion. The whole thing had just been act. One that the prince played out often to ensure both his safety but to also throw off those who wished harm upon him. Lukas had to admit, he had them fooled if not for his own gut instinct telling him that something was off as well as the Kraken's magic which helped fish out the truth.
And then…she smiled. "I'm sure that the Prince himself can act as my witness."
Gasps erupted from the crowd. The villagers looked from Velena to the true Prince Darren, youngest son of Nozar. Most of them were confused, shell-shocked by the events that had just transpired in a matter of minutes.
The true Prince Darren's face remained unreadable but his eyebrow twitched in irritation as he stared at the bloody mess that lay on the floor beside him.
He'd been played like a fucking fiddle. And there was nothing he could do but accept the fact that the people of Ilagron had been two steps ahead of him this entire time.
And that's when Lukas finally spoke, voice was mockingly sweet as he offered an exaggerated, theatrical bow; sweeping one arm to the side.
"Your Highness," he grinned, his voice smooth as silk and as deadly as poison. "I'm afraid I have not greeted you properly."
Every word he spoke was steeped in irony.
"We hope you enjoy your stay here in Ilagron. We are pleased to have you, Prince Darren."
Nozar had played their hand, but Ilagron had answered with steel and blood.
The Kingdom of Waves had sent a message wrapped in silk and poison, hiding their fangs behind a bloated puppet.
But now, their youngest prince stood exposed and the blood of his decoy still stained the stones.
Nozar had been warned.
Ilagron was not free for the taking.
And those who dared to make an enemy of it would do well to remember the price.