Chapter 188: The Princess Moves First

Yukine took the palace stairs two at a time, frost streaming off her cloak, leaving Riven behind at the landing. A squad of royal guards blocked the long corridor in front of him, spears crossed, apologizing faintly for the inconvenience.

“Sorry, orders,” the nearest guard said, wincing, “nobody passes tonight, not even you.”

“My friend just passed,” Riven said, pointing at the frosted footprints across the carpet.

“She is a princess, you are a villain, those are different rules.”

‘Every minute I argue with a spear, Yukine walks into that room alone.’

Ysabel snapped her fan open, a pressure rolling out that bent the spear shafts toward the floor beneath them. The guards dropped to their knees with identical expressions of polite astonishment, as though the carpet itself commanded it.

“Stand aside,” she said, “or I will become extremely unreasonable in front of your commander.”

“We were already aside,” the guard mumbled, “we are very aside now.”

Yukine pushed through the great doors into the throne room, where a single torch lit the raised dais. Caius stood beside the throne with a drawn sword at King Ostric’s throat, the old man slumped senseless.

“Sister, you came to beg,” Caius said softly, “I was hoping you would.”

“I came to arrest you,” Yukine answered, walking up the aisle without slowing.

“With what army, exactly?” he asked, tilting his head with a mocking smile.

“The one that cannot be bribed, flattered or rewound,” she answered.

Something broke behind Caius’s smile, a crack running across the polished mask he wore for the court. For one second he looked like the boy who waited in corridors, hoping his father would notice.

“He never chose me, Yukine,” Caius whispered, “not once in twenty years.”

“He never chose me either,” she said, “it did not make me a murderer.”

Riven reached the doorway behind her, Ysabel breathing hard at his shoulder, in time to see the sword. He kept his sword sheathed and his mouth shut, understanding that this stage belonged to someone else tonight.

‘She doesn’t need me for this one. Best seat in the house, then.’

Yukine laid two fingers on his blade, frost blooming along the steel with a sound like cracking sugar. The sword locked in place, immovable as a mountain, a full hand’s width from the King’s bare skin.

[ Frozen Assets: Caius’s blade | Frozen until paid | Debt: one apology to the King ]

“Frozen until paid,” she said, “the debt is an apology to our father.”

“You cannot freeze a Prince’s sword,” Caius snarled, wrenching at the hilt.

“I just did, you are still holding it,” she said, tilting her head, “try pulling harder.”

The royal guards filed into the hall behind her, uncertain, until she raised the Warrant to the torchlight. Captain Hadley read the seal twice, then drew his sword and pointed it at the Crown Prince instead.

“Caius Aurel,” Yukine said, her voice ringing off the vaulted ceiling, “I arrest you for the attempted murder of our father.”

“By order of the Third Princess,” Hadley said stiffly, “surrender your weapon.”

Caius sneered at the captain, “You do not have the authority to—”

“She does,” the captain replied, cutting him off, “and I would rather be loyal than correct.”

Gold light flooded the balcony doors as Dorian landed on the marble in full armor, one hand already raised. He found Caius frozen in place, the princess standing over him, and every royal guard already on her side.

Dorian raised both palms, “Step back, everyone… I can still fix this.”

“You are late, the sword is already frozen, and so is your plan.”

Dorian smiled through the blood on his lip, “Not yet, I only need ten seconds to put this right.”

“Yes, you are late, I started without you and I will not wait for an audience.”

The hall jerked backward ten seconds, blood trickling from Dorian’s nose again, the guards’ voices unwinding into silence. This time Yukine skipped the blade entirely, hooking Caius’s ankle so the sword clattered harmlessly across the floor.

“No… that’s not how it went,” Dorian muttered, wiping his lip with a trembling gauntlet.

“You are reading from a script I never signed,” she said coolly.

He rewound a second time, a red line running over his lip, arriving at the door half a heartbeat sooner. Yukine was moving again, this time toward the King, shielding the old man with her cloak before Dorian’s feet landed.

“She wasn’t supposed to do that,” Dorian whispered, almost to himself, “it never happened this way.”

“She’s choosing,” Riven said from the doorway, leaning on the frame, “and nobody can read ahead on that.”

On the third rewind Dorian burst in with blood streaking his chin, desperate to land before she moved. Yukine stood three paces away from where he landed, one hand lifted, watching his sword slice nothing again.

“How are you ahead of me?” he gasped, staring at her as if she grew a second head.

“Ten seconds should have been enough, I counted every step of this.”

“You wrote me as a princess who waits,” she said, “I stopped waiting.”

Yukine turned from him to face the court, her voice carrying to every corner of the hall. Courtiers in nightclothes peered from every archway, drawn by the bell, clutching candles and half-fastened robes tightly.

“I am Yukine, Third Princess of this realm,” she announced, “and I am a member of the Overdue Company.”

“Hear, hear… and I would like that recorded in the minutes, Petrik,” Ysabel said, lifting her fan.

A murmur ran through the archways, gasps mixing with laughter, a few nobles applauding in confused quiet. Riven felt something warm settle in his chest, a thread of gold light brightening between them both.

“Long live the King… long live his daughter, apparently,” Chancellor Oswin said, bowing very low.

“Apparently is correct,” Yukine replied, “I will explain the rest at breakfast, with charts.”

King Ostric stirred on the throne, his eyelids lifting until his gaze settled on his daughter’s face. He studied her slowly for a long breath, as if finding a book he lost decades ago.

“Yukine,” he rasped, his voice a ragged thread, “you have your mother’s chin.”

“Yes, Father,” she said, kneeling beside him, “I have had it all along.”

“You grew while I was not looking… I regret that more than the crown.”

“I did it quietly… it seemed the safest way to grow in this house.”

Yukine pressed her father’s hand between both of hers, frost melting into warm drops on his wrinkled knuckles. Behind her the court watched in stunned silence, nobody daring to breathe louder than the single guttering torch.

“Take the Prince to the lower cells,” Hadley ordered, “and double the watch on every stair tonight.”

Guards hauled Caius from the dais, his frozen sword melting free from his grip and clattering on marble. He screamed over his shoulder at the golden figure by the balcony, spittle flying, voice cracking with betrayal.

“You promised this would work, Dorian,” Caius screamed, “you promised me!”

Dorian stood motionless, the blood drying on his lip, his charming face smoothing into a mask with nothing behind it. Every eye in the room turned from the prince to the hero, the silence spreading slowly like spilled dark ink.