"Define necessary."
I sighed.
Truly, the lamp could not be commissioned soon enough.
There were certain phrases that no sensible man wanted to hear from an ancient Jinn with questionable restraint and access to space manipulation. Define necessary was sowhere near the top of that list, just beneath trust and I have an idea.
Both were signs of imminent property damag and possibly continental levels of clean-up.
"Necessary ans," I said slowly, "if soone directly attacks Spiro, William, the estate, the rescued children, or any personnel under House Konstantin’s protection."
Abi nodded with great seriousness. It was a bit too much that it felt suspicious. I stared at his wide grin with all the skepticism I could muster.
"And? What else would define necessity." he asked.
"And if the attack cannot be resolved through restraint."
"What level of restraint are we talking about?"
"The kind where bodies remain in one piece."
"Alive?"
"Preferably still breathing."
"Conscious?"
"That can be optional."
He smiled.
I narrowed my eyes. "Abi."
"What? I am only clarifying. It’s better to be safe, isn’t it?"
I raised my brows at him, "Haven’t you realized that you are negotiating violence?"
"Violence requires clear paraters."
He replied in a righteous voice that only he would believe. Unfortunately, he was not wrong. This was the sort of thing that made dealing with Abi so exhausting. Every now and then, between the shaless laughter and theatrical dramatics, he would say sothing perfectly reasonable. It made scolding him less satisfying.
"Do not kill unless absolutely necessary," I said.
He smirked deviously, "Define absolutely necessary."
"If you don’t stop testing my patience, dear brother, I will make sure you never see the pâtissier ever again."
He raised both hands. "Understood. Understood. No killing unless the situation is ugly. Don’t be so petty."
"That is not what I said."
"I know it is what you ant."
I looked at William. "Supervise him."
William bowed. "I shall do my best, Your Excellency."
The man said those words with such calm resignation that even I felt a pang of sympathy. Only for a brief mont, naturally. William had chosen to remain in service to House Konstantin despite having many chances to escape into peaceful retirent. His suffering, therefore, was self-inflicted. Mostly.
Spiro stood at the side of the entrance hall, watching with quiet eyes. He had not asked to co this ti. Progress I dare say, perhaps. Or he probably had learned by now that when the matter involved the Crown Prince, ancient relics, temple basents, and suspicious symbols, I would not allow it no matter how he reasoned out.
A wise retreat. Still, his fingers held the edge of his sleeve too tightly.
"Father," he said.
I turned to his direction, "Yes?"
"Will you be back late?"
"Most likely."
He nodded as if he already expected that.
"Will you send word if delayed?"
"Yes. I will."
Another nod, the very picture of obedience. Though, I’m pretty sure he’s internally calculating for the next chance.
Then, in a softer voice, "Will Uncle Abi really stay?"
Abi’s expression changed imdiately. He looked almost offended. "Of course I will stay. Do you doubt your uncle’s reliability?"
I have to say when it cos to Spiro, Abi tried his best to be proper. Aside from the occasional harmless mischief, he was very considerate of the boy.
Spiro considered this with far too much seriousness.
Then looked at , blinking his big, innocent eyes.
I looked back and we shared a mont of complete understanding.
"That was hurtful," Abi said.
"It was honesty at its finest," I replied.
Spiro flushed. "Uncle Abi is strong."
"See? The boy isn’t helpless yet," Abi said, his eyes brightening.
"But he gets distracted," Spiro added.
Abi deflated much like a balloon losing air. I covered my mouth with one gloved hand. I wasn’t laughing. Not at all. It was just a reflex of my tickle bone.
"Excellent observation," I said. "William will ensure your uncle remains focused."
Abi muttered sothing about betrayal. I ignored him. That is always the correct course of action when it involves a childish yet centuries old Jinn.
Before leaving, I crouched slightly and adjusted Spiro’s collar. Again, it did not need adjusting but I did it anyway. At this point, the action had beco a habit, which was alarming in a way. A villain lord should not develop habits around small, breakable people unless he intended to keep them.
Unfortunately for , that ship had already burned, sunk, and been morialized in odes and obituaries.
"Listen to William," I said. "Do not wander alone or open unfamiliar letters. Do not accept sweets unless they co from our kitchen. And absolutely do not let Abi teach you anything involving space manipulation, gambling, or creative threats."
Spiro nodded solemnly. "Yes, Father."
Abi gasped clutching his chest, looking very offended. "I would not teach a child gambling."
I glanced at him, obviously doubting.
He anded, "Not without proper probability theory, of course."
And that, ladies and gentlen, is the source of all my doubts.
"Abi."
"Fine. What else can I do? I’m an honorable uncle."
Spiro’s lips twitched.
Clearly, none of us, even Spiro believed his words.
For now, his verbal agreent would do. It was just a contingency plan after all. I still believe that no one in their right minds will co take this chance to wreak havoc in the Elysian State. However, we weren’t exactly dealing with people in their right minds, it’s good to have counterasures in place.
I left the estate with only the carriage driver and two shadows following at a distance. There was no need for any herald to announce my presence to the streets like a town crier with a death wish. After all, a private summons required a private arrival.
The Capital at night was a different creature from the one shown during festivals. The main avenues still glittered with celebration, music, and drunk nobles pretending to be charming. But the smaller streets curled into dimness, where servants hurried ho beneath their cloaks, where vendors counted the last of their earnings, and where the temple bells marked the hour with hollow dignity.
The carriage moved through the damp stone roads still reflecting the day’s rain. I watched the city pass through the window, my thoughts arranging themselves into a familiar order.
The Crown Prince requested a eting after the chapel raid. Either he knew sothing had happened, or sothing had already happened on his side.
Possibility one: Lord Keeper Marcellus has made his move.
Possibility two: the empress was the one who took action.
Possibility three: the Crown Prince’s condition worsened after being exposed to the relic, albeit for a short ti.
Possibility four: all of the above.
Wonderful.
I truly adored situations where every answer I have was inconvenient.
The carriage did not stop at the main palace gates. Instead, we were guided through a side entrance near the old administrative wing. There were fewer royal guards here, but the wards were stronger. That said quite a lot. A place with fewer visible soldiers and stronger invisible protections was either ant for secrets or assassins.
Usually both.
A palace attendant received with a bow and led through a series of narrow corridors. These were not the grand halls ant to impress visiting dignitaries. There was no polished marble, no towering portraits, no gold-trimd declarations of imperial superiority. This part of the palace was older, quieter, made with stone floors, somber dark wood doors, and lamps burning with steady blue light.
This was the kind of place where statesn made decisions history would later pretend to be noble.
I was brought to a small study overlooking an inner courtyard. The Crown Prince was there standing by the window. He was dressed plainly for soone of his status, in a dark blue coat with minimal embroidery. His golden hair was tied back, his face composed. But the mont I entered, I saw what most would miss.
Fatigue. Tension around the eyes.
A slight pallor beneath the skin.
His right hand rested against the window fra, with fingers too stiff.
Ah. So it was his condition.
"Your Highness," I greeted with a asured bow.
"Your Excellency," he replied. "Thank you for coming at such an hour."
"I assu the hour was not chosen for my convenience."
His mouth curved faintly. "No, I’m afraid not."
"How honest of you, Crown Prince."
"I am learning."
"I see. Please continue to do so."
For a brief second, amusent broke through his tired expression. Then it slowly faded. The attendant withdrew, closing the door behind him. The room fell quiet. There were no knights or any other person around that it felt strange to .
"Are we alone?" I asked.
"As much as one can be in the imperial palace."
"That ans no."
"It ans the usual wards are active, but I disabled the listening array in this room."
I raised a brow. "Oh? I’m surprised you can actually do that."
His expression grew dry. "It is my room."
"True. But that has not stopped people from making decisions for you."
His jaw tightened. Well, it was a direct hit. I’m more surprised he didn’t react more... colorfully.
How boring.
But then again, he needed to get used to it.
"No," he said after a mont. "It has not."
I took the seat opposite his desk without being invited. He glanced at , then smiled faintly, as if he had expected no less.
"Why did you summon , Your Highness? Contrary to belief, I quite like my sleep," I asked.
The Crown Prince sat across from and placed a folded docunt on the desk.
"Because Lord Keeper Marcellus requested an audience with my father this afternoon."
I looked at the docunt.
"And?"
"The request was denied."
"Oh?"
"By the emperor?" I asked.
"No, by my mother."
Now that was interesting. Here I thought, the two of them were in cahoots. It seems there’s more to it than my previous speculations.
I leaned back. "The empress blocked Marcellus from reaching His Majesty."
"Yes."
"Why is that?"
"I was hoping you could tell ."
I stared at him, then I shook my head with a smile.
"Your Highness overestimates ."
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