Jasper set the book he was reading aside deliberately. His sharp eyes settled on his son. "And I also can't remember authorizing your departure."
"I wasn't aware I needed permission to breathe," Damon replied smoothly, taking a step further in, hands in his pockets.
"Don't play games, boy. You disappeared for days, during a delicate time for this kingdom. The council is watching you."
Damon's mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Let them watch."
"You don't get to dismiss them." Jasper rose to his feet, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud. "Do you understand the risk you took? Running off without protocol? You're the Crown Prince-"
"Exactly. Crown Prince," Damon interrupted him, slowly. His voice was cool, yet cold. "Not a prisoner."
Jasper exhaled sharply through his nose. "We'll discuss this properly tomorrow. With the council."
Damon turned to leave. "Looking forward to it," he said without looking back.
—
The next morning.
Damon stood at the edge of the glass balcony in the east wing of the Palace, his sharp gaze trained on the vast cityscape below. The morning sun cast a cold silver light over the steel towers and spires of his kingdom, but it did little to warm the storm brewing inside him. His return to Silvorout had been swift, discreet, and unannounced to all but the most trusted few.
Now, only hours after his arrival, he found himself summoned to the High Council meeting chamber, where the kingdom's most powerful advisors awaited him.
A Royal guard rushed over, bowed politely before telling him that the councils had arrived. He nodded his head, indicating that he understood before dismissing the Royal guard. The moment he heard the door closing, he grabbed his coat and walked out of his room.
He entered the grand room with the quiet force of a storm cloud rolling in. Long mahogany tables stretched beneath a stained-glass ceiling depicting the royal family's bloody, complex lineage. The council members stood upon his arrival, bowing slightly, their expressions ranging from tight politeness to unreadable masks.
"Your Highness," said Chancellor Emeric, always the first to speak. He was a lean man with silver hair slicked back like a blade, dressed in dark ceremonial robes that shimmered faintly.
Damon gave a short nod and moved to his seat at the head of the table.
No one missed the way he settled into his chair with the ease of a man who knew he belonged there, but also didn't care to perform.
"Let us proceed," he said.
The meeting began with familiar matters: recent border disputes with minor kingdoms, trade agreements with the other empires, and internal security developments. Chancellor Emeric detailed the recent arrest of a minor noble involved in smuggling tech to outlawed regions.
Lord Varan, a hawkish, middle-aged councilman, brought up troop morale and hinted at concerns over Damon's frequent absences. "There's talk among the soldiers, Your Highness. They wonder where their future king vanishes to, especially in times when leadership should be visible."
Damon rested his chin lightly on his fingers. "If morale depends on watching me eat in the palace dining hall, perhaps we've hired poets instead of soldiers."
A brief silence followed. One or two council members stifled smiles.
Duchess Halene, always the diplomatic buffer, shifted topics smoothly. "Your travel to Yarnat, Prince Damon. I assume it was for diplomatic surveillance?"
He met her gaze, unblinking. "Surveillance, in a way."
She hesitated at the cold vagueness in his tone but didn't press further.
High Scholar Merek cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. "There's also the matter of the Northern Arcane Treaty renewal. As you know, the mages are requesting greater autonomy-"
"They always do," Damon cut in dryly. "And we always remind them they're not a separate kingdom."
Several heads nodded. The conversation shifted again, this time toward the national treasury and economic forecasts. Minister Adwin presented charts and figures, clearly nervous under Damon's cool gaze.
Damon listened, replied when needed, but remained detached. Every now and then, his fingers tapped against the edge of the table, a quiet, rhythmic reminder that his patience had limits.
Finally, the tone of the room shifted.
"Now that we've concluded the immediate matters of the state," Chancellor Emeric began, "the council would like to address… a more personal matter, Your Highness."
Damon didn't move. "Speak."
"We believe the time has come to secure the line of succession," Emeric said carefully. "The people are watching, and with your father's health-"
"I'm well aware of my father's condition," Damon cut in, voice low but pointed.
"Of course. But the kingdom requires certainty. A stability and a future Queen."
Another councilman, Lord Gavriel, leaned forward, seizing the moment. "It is time, Your Highness, to consider marriage. A match made within a month would put minds at ease."
Damon's jaw tensed.
"We've… considered suitable candidates," Duchess Halene added. "Many from noble bloodlines, with diplomatic advantages. But one name continues to surface."
She paused, then looked directly at him.
"Princess Adair."
The room seemed to shift.
Silence fell.
Damon didn't blink. But the atmosphere around him changed in an instant, like the pressure before a lightning strike.
Lord Varan, sensing hesitation, added, "You're aware there was a marriage agreement arranged by your fathers when she was born. It still stands legally."
Damon's eyes narrowed slightly. His voice was calm, but the cold edge beneath it was unmistakable.
"Say her name again," he said softly, "and I'll consider it treason."
The tension thickened, not a soul in the room brave enough to speak next.
They all froze.
"Since you all don't have anything else to say…"
Damon rose from his seat.
He continued. "I will return tomorrow to finalize the arcane treaty and review the northern border defenses. Until then, do not bring up arranged fates from the past as if they decide my future."
He turned without waiting for permission to leave, his cloak slicing the air behind him as he strode toward the chamber doors.
None dared stop him.