39 Niklas II (1/2)

In the meantime, Jezebel awoke to a familiar ceiling and an even more familiar scent teasing her nostrils. Following it, she bent her neck to the right. And there, Kilian sat across the bed, eying her with an inscrutable pair of hazel eyes.

Dozens of red, vein-like marks marred Jezebel's body, wrecking her previously divine figure with an unholy countenance. But knowing that her new appearance triggered no change in Kilian's gaze, she heaved in relief, and a wave of comfort cooled her aching chest.

”You look so ugly. This ought to be the reflection of your soul,” Kilian stated in such a serious tone that, for a second, Jezebel failed to process the words—blinking in disbelief.

”Ever the player. How did I fall for you?” She countered upon regaining her composure and struggled to rise from the bed. But with no strength in her arms or legs, the task soon proved impossible.

”Because you're stupid, of course. So stupid that you almost managed to cripple your arms and legs, and wasted a week of my time. Women can be such eyesores,” Kilian sighed and pulled Jezebel onto his lap.

”Make no mistake, let this be the first and the last. From now on, stop doing unnecessary things. While I don't mind spending a few decades caring for you, if there is one thing I do not want, it's to see—this—ruined by the three words—I know better,” Kilian whispered in Jezebel's ear, reached for a comb, and untangled her hair.

At first, the words made her heart pound in the type of unease she'd never experienced beforehand.

But when the comb drew through her hair, for the first time in two centuries, Jezebel's heart relaxed, and she experienced a high of unmatched proportions. Shutting her eyes, she collapsed into her mind to experience the rush at its best, and her lips curled into a contented smirk.

Thus, Jezebel discovered a new, more practical source of fehl high, and in less than two hours, recovered enough that she could at least stand on her own, or use some minor tricks.

”Don't you want to know where I went?”

”I am not silly.”

”Aren't you curious about what I learned?”

”Because if I don't ask, you won't tell?”

”Touché.”

The playfulness in Jezebel's tone died down, and as she rose to face Kilian, utmost seriousness replaced them.

”The truth might be hard to digest, and I suppose it's one of the reasons why mother chose me, out of all people, to assist you. Do you know Niklas II?” Jezebel asked. Gravity laced her words, and hearing that name, Kilian arched his eyebrows in consternation.

”Reinhold von Skoll, the eldest prince. Former Crown Prince of Arcadia. It's said that on the day of his birth, 36 red clouds filled Arcadia's sky, the highest number since the empire's establishment. Beside himself with joy, Emperor Niklas immediately named him crown prince—breaking 3,000 years of tradition,” Kilian replied, not seeing the link between the two.

While the Arcadian Empire enforced primogeniture succession, the imperial throne didn't automatically pass to the eldest. Instead, the Crown Prince was jointly selected by the grand masters, the conclave of elders, and the emperor in a competition broadcast to the entire empire. The current crown prince, Ayden, was Niklas' fourth son and selected from that competition.

However, he only got the opportunity because the eldest prince, Reinhold, died early.