Something

Chapter 22

The morning sun filtered through the tall, arched windows of the palace, casting long beams of golden light across the marble floors. The day had barely begun, yet the weight of the previous night's conversations lingered heavily on my mind. The quiet moments before the palace truly awakened had always been my refuge, a brief reprieve from the constant demands and expectations that accompanied my title. But today, even the solace of dawn could not ease the turmoil within me.

I made my way through the nearly deserted corridors, my footsteps echoing softly in the silence. The palace was a labyrinth of memories, each corner and corridor holding remnants of my childhood, of a time before the world had grown so complicated. It was hard to reconcile those memories with the reality of the present—a reality where I was being thrust into battles, both political and literal, that I wasn't sure I was prepared to fight.

As I approached the courtyard, the sound of clashing steel reached my ears. It was a familiar sound, one that I had grown accustomed to over the years. Training sessions were a daily routine in the palace, a constant reminder that even in times of peace, one must always be prepared for war. I paused at the edge of the courtyard, watching as the soldiers practiced their drills with disciplined precision.

And there, among them, was the warlock prince.

He moved with a grace that belied his size, his every motion fluid and controlled. The way he wielded his blade—swift, decisive, and deadly—spoke of years of training, of battles fought and won. He was a force to be reckoned with, and I could see why Mother had chosen him to play such a pivotal role in her plans.

But as I watched him, a part of me couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow. He was trapped in this just as much as I was—a pawn in a larger game, bound by choices that weren't entirely his own. The realization made my earlier anger seem almost petty in comparison. We were both caught in the same web, struggling to find our way out.

He must have sensed my presence because he suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of us, the noise of the soldiers fading into the background. There was something in his gaze that I couldn't quite place—a mixture of curiosity, challenge, and perhaps something deeper, something more personal.

"Come to join the training, Princess?" he called out, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he sheathed his sword.

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Just observing. I'm not one for swinging swords around without reason."

He chuckled, stepping away from the other soldiers and walking toward me. "There's always a reason to be prepared. You never know when you might need to defend yourself."

"Or when you might need to defend someone else," I countered, my voice tinged with a hint of challenge.

He stopped a few paces from me, studying my expression. "True enough," he conceded. "But tell me, Aisha, do you think you're prepared for what's coming?"

His question hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. It was a question I had asked myself countless times, and one to which I still didn't have a clear answer. The truth was, I wasn't sure if anyone could truly be prepared for what lay ahead. The threats we faced weren't just physical; they were rooted in the very fabric of our world, in the ancient grudges and alliances that had shaped our history.

"I don't know," I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty. "I'm trying to be, but there are so many variables, so many things I don't understand."

His gaze softened slightly, and he nodded as if he understood more than he let on. "It's okay to feel that way. Uncertainty is a part of life, especially in times like these. But you're stronger than you think, Aisha. You've already faced more than most would in a lifetime."