The winds of the north were sharp and biting, carrying whispers of intrigue and secrets that stirred unease among the snow-dusted pines. Prince Raymond stood tall amidst his men, his eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the spy they had captured. The man, ragged and trembling, was bound to a post, his eyes wide with fear, knowing full well that his life hung by a thread.

Raymond's steely gaze fixed on him, unwavering. The spy had been caught near the border, too close to the royal stronghold for comfort. And though the man was no more than a pawn in the grander scheme, his information could prove invaluable.

"Speak quickly, and your death will be swift," Raymond growled, his voice carrying the weight of command. The spy, sweating and shivering, nodded frantically.

"There is a plot against your father, Your Highness," he rasped, his voice a low whisper. "The king... a planned assassination. It is set to take place soon—within the week, most likely. They've been using my network to infiltrate your father's inner circle."

Raymond's expression hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. The king, his father, was one of the most formidable rulers in the kingdom. The thought of such a plot against him, especially now, was not only treasonous—it was unforgivable.

Without a word, Raymond turned to his trusted advisor, his voice low and deliberate. "Prepare a missive. It needs to reach the kingdom immediately. My father must be warned."

With a swift nod, his advisor hurried off to carry out the order. Raymond watched as the spy was taken away, knowing there would be no mercy for him. His father's safety was his priority now. The assassin's game had begun, and Raymond was determined to be a step ahead.

The Royal Tea

The afternoon after the royal hunt was traditionally one of quiet celebration and camaraderie. The grounds of the castle were alive with the soft murmur of conversation as ladies and gentlemen gathered for the royal tea.

Mirelith sat in her usual spot, perched delicately on a chair with a fine porcelain teacup in her hand, the warm liquid soothing her as she listened to Sophia and Mia chat. The chatter was light, but there was an undercurrent of tension that Mirelith could not shake. She had never been one to engage in idle gossip, but the whispers from the hunt still clung to her thoughts.

Felix, as expected, had won the hunt with his competitive nature and impeccable skill. His tally of 200 points was impressive, and though he had always been the family's pride, the way he handed the golden rose to Grace felt like a slight to those who had been more invested in the hunt than his sister.

Sophia, her fiery temper barely contained, shot a pointed glance at Mirelith. Her voice was sharp, laced with irritation. "It seems Felix has found a way to gain the attention of Lady Grace once more. I suppose he'll expect us to clap for him, as always."

Mirelith's lips curved into a tight, controlled smile. "Felix knows how to make his mark," she replied, her tone neutral.

Sophia huffed, her gaze flicking toward Felix as he stood proudly beside Grace, both of them engaged in quiet conversation, while Victor hovered nearby, ever watchful.

"I'm sure he's enjoying the attention," Sophia muttered. "I don't see why Grace is so special. She's just another face at court."

Mirelith said nothing, choosing instead to sip her tea. The court was a stage, and each person was a player with their own roles and motives. But there was something about Grace that made Mirelith uneasy, something she couldn't quite name but which simmered under the surface.

The royal tea was meant to be a peaceful affair, an opportunity to unwind after the intensity of the hunt, but it was interrupted suddenly, and violently.

A messenger burst through the grand doors, his breath ragged, his face pale with fear. "Your Majesties! There's urgent news! A plot... against the king... an assassination attempt—"

Before he could finish his sentence, an arrow flew from the open window behind him. It struck the messenger in the chest, sending him crumpling to the floor with a sickening thud. The room erupted into chaos as courtiers screamed in panic, scattering in all directions.

Mirelith's heart raced as she jumped to her feet, her mind spinning. Guards surged into the room, shouting orders, but the once peaceful atmosphere was shattered, replaced by fear and confusion. The heavy scent of danger thickened in the air.

Sophia grabbed Mirelith's arm, her face pale, eyes wide with terror. "What's happening? Is it true? Is the king in danger?" she gasped.

"We need to get to safety," Mirelith said, her voice steadier than she felt. She reached for her skirts and began to move swiftly toward the door, her mind already calculating her escape. The royal castle had its secrets, and in times of attack, the safest place to be was within its walls.

As the courtiers scrambled for cover, Mirelith's eyes flickered toward the open windows, the distant sounds of panic growing louder. She glanced back toward the doorway where Victor and Caius had appeared, their faces grim.

Without hesitation, Mirelith moved toward the inner halls, hoping to find a secure path to safety. The chaos of the attack blurred around her, her heartbeat quickening with every step. The kingdom was under threat, and though her heart raced with fear, there was also a strange sense of determination.