Whispers of the Royal Blood | 18+

Chapter 9

Lord Wilder peered at the tray, his expression curious. "Hmm, I don't see anything unusual. Perhaps it was just the heat from your hands, young prince." He proposes, his voice soothing.

Tristan shook his head, his gaze focused on the pastry. "No, there was something...something strange." He insisted, reaching out to pick it up again.

This time, however, the pastry felt completely normal, its texture soft and delicate, its appearance unchanged. He frowned, confused by the strange experience. Had he imagined it all?

The right-hand man talks, breaking the tension. "Sometimes, our imagination can play tricks on us, especially in a setting like this, with so much excitement and anticipation in the air." Tristan forced a smile, nodding in agreement. He knew he had to forget about the bizarre pastry and focus on the festivities.

But deep down, a niggling doubt had taken hold of him, a thought that he could not shake off: what if there was more to the pastry than met the eye?

The guests continued to dance and feast, the unexpected incident with the pastry was almost forgotten. The young prince found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Laina, mesmerized by her charm, and the way her gown swirled around her as she moved to the music.

She is the only one for me, he thought, a sense of longing welling up within him. I do not care what others may say, or what obstacles may stand in our way, I will make her mine.

"Triss," Laina Ravenheart called out, her voice a sweet melody to his ears. "Dance with me." He did not need to be asked twice. Tristan extended his hand, feeling the warmth of her skin as she placed her slender, velvety fingers in his. Their eyes met, and for a moment, it was as if the world around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them entwined in an embrace, swaying to the rhythm of the music.

Wilder watched the siblings from across the ballroom, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. The boy was obviously smitten with the princess, and from the looks of it, the feeling was mutual. He knew that he had to tread carefully, to ensure that their affection remained a carefully guarded secret, lest it be discovered by those who would see them thorn apart.

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The people began to retire, Lord Wilder made his way over to Tristan, who was standing near the grand staircase, looking wistful. "Your Highness," he started, "I hope you will allow me to offer some advice." The young prince turned to the advisor, surprise evident in his eyes. "Advice? What about?" He asked, curiosity piqued.

"About the princess," Wilder replied, his tone serious. "Your feelings for her are clear to anyone who really sees, and I must say, I worry for your safety, and hers. You cannot allow your emotions to cloud your judgment, or let your guard down."

Tristan's eyes narrowed, a hint of anger flashing in them. "Are you saying that I'm incompetent, Wilder? That I cannot protect her?" He bristled, his voice rising slightly.

"No, no, Young Tristan." The older man quickly reassured him, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. "I have the utmost faith in your abilities. What I'm trying to say is that you must be cautious, now more than ever. The path you're on is fraught with danger, and the wrong move can have disastrous consequences, not just for you, but for the entire family."