THE ASSASSIN'S FLAME

CHAPTER FIVE

Hours blended together as Prince Kieran met with an endless stream of suitors. Each lady arrived with hope in her eyes, only to depart with disappointment etched on her face.

Kieran's thoughts grew weary, his mind numb from the constant barrage of polished smiles and rehearsed responses.

"Lady Fianna," Kieran began, his tone conversational, "what drives your passion for art?"

Fianna's laughter tinkled like crystal. "Oh, Your Highness, I adore beauty in all forms! Art allows me to express myself creatively."

Kieran's eyes narrowed. "That's lovely, Lady Fianna. But what inspires your creativity? Is it nature, emotions, or something else?"

Fianna's pause was almost imperceptible. "I...I suppose it's the desire to create something beautiful, Your Highness."

Kieran's thoughts whispered: "Superficial answer."

Next in line was Lady Caoimhe, whose wit and intelligence shone like a beacon.

"Lady Caoimhe," Kieran asked, "what do you believe is the greatest challenge facing our kingdom?"

Caoimhe launched into a well-reasoned analysis, but when Kieran pressed for her personal stance, she faltered.

"I...I support the crown's decisions, Your Highness," Caoimhe replied.

Kieran's expression remained neutral, but his mind whispered: "Lack of conviction."

The day wore on, with each suitor failing to capture Kieran's interest.

Lady Niamh spoke of her charitable works, but her words rang hollow.

Lady Orla boasted of her martial skills, yet her arrogance grated.

Lady Saoirse's poetic words danced around Kieran's queries, never quite answering.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kieran's frustration grew.

"Alethea," he called, his voice low and weary.

This happened to be the first time he had called Alethea by her name directly without the 'General' title. Alethea was amazed at this but immediately appeared at his side.

"Have you found none to your liking, Your Highness?" she asked.

Kieran shook his head. "None have truly captured my interest."

Alethea's gaze never wavered. "Then we shall continue with another badge."

Kieran nodded, resignation etched on his face.

The next hour brought a new wave of suitors, each eager to claim the prince's heart.

But Kieran's thoughts remained sceptical.

Would any of these ladies truly understand him?

Or would this parade of polished faces continue forever?

After the last lady departed, Prince Kieran slumped in his chair, exhausted.

"None of them," he thought, frustration etching his face. "None truly understands me."

He reviewed the suitors in his mind:

Those who could defend themselves were arrogant.

Those who seemed kind weren't selfless.

Those with passion viewed it as duty.

Kieran's realization crystallized: "I've been searching for the wrong qualities."

Just as he concluded, the door swung open. King Thane entered, accompanied by his advisor, Lord Ravenswood.

"Son, how fares the search?" King Thane asked, his voice even.