Time/Date: Late Morning, TC1853.01.07
Location: Xuán Estate → Return to Emberhall Pavilion
The magnetic suspension vehicle carried Kael away from Emberhall with the smooth, priority passage his imperial credentials commanded. Fifth District traffic parted automatically for the Xuán crest—hover-transports and pedestrian trams shifting aside without question. Everyone was moving out of the way for someone who'd just had his control shattered.
He sat rigid in the silk-lined interior, golden eyes fixed on the passing cityscape without seeing any of it. The luxury felt contaminated. Crystal communication panels, climate-controlled comfort, formations providing absolute privacy—all of it tainted by what had been done to him.
By what she'd done.
The fragments his mind offered refused to form a complete picture. Heat. Silk sheets beneath him. That exotic incense thick enough to choke on. And a figure—blurred at the edges, indistinct in the drug-haze that had clouded everything—but with Mara's face. Had to be Mara's face. Who else would have orchestrated something this elaborate?
His hands clenched against the armrests.
Amara's words from their meeting still echoed: Why did she do this? She's so jealous of me, Kael. She wanted to steal you from me, to force you into marriage and destroy everything we've built together.
Jealousy. That made sense. Mara had always watched him with those mud-brown eyes—resentful, hungry. He'd felt it every time their paths crossed at family gatherings. She'd wanted what Amara had. Wanted him.
So she'd drugged him. Trapped him. Made his body betray every principle of control he'd been raised to maintain.
The vehicle glided onto the dedicated magnetic roadway leading to his private estate, formation-enhanced lanes humming with spiritual energy as they carried him toward sanctuary. Toward the cleansing he desperately needed.
When the vehicle arrived, he stormed through the front entrance. Movement registered in his peripheral vision—the butler, ancient and loyal, mouth opening with some greeting or question. Kael ignored it completely. The man was a function, not a person. Background noise in a residence that suddenly felt as contaminated as that hotel room.
His private chambers. Finally.
"Burn everything." The command came out harsh as he stripped away his jacket with sharp, violent movements. The expensive silk hit the floor like the worthless thing it had become. "Every thread I wore today. I want it reduced to ash before I return."
"Of course, Your Highness." The butler's voice floated from somewhere behind him—dutiful, trained, irrelevant. "Shall I—"
"The hottest water the formations can provide." Kael's shirt joined the jacket. His hands shook slightly as he worked the fastenings. "And the physician's strongest cleansing oils. Everything you have."
"At once, Your Highness."
The footsteps retreated. Good. He needed to be alone with this fury that threatened to consume him from the inside out.
By the time the bath was ready, Kael had stripped completely, discarding each piece of clothing with the same violent precision. The water steamed with heat that would redden skin, formations maintaining temperature at just below unbearable.
Perfect.
He sank into it despite the immediate pain. Let the scalding embrace wrap around him while he reached for the cleansing oils—harsh, medicinal, designed to purify corruption from skin and soul alike.
Scrubbed.
Scraped at himself with enough force to hurt.
His skin turned red under the assault, but it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough to wash away the ghost of what had happened in that room.
The sensory fragments came unbidden: silk sheets beneath bare skin. The weight of another body. Heat that had nothing to do with formation-enhanced temperature. And that figure—he'd seen Mara's face, hadn't he? Those phoenix-shaped eyes, that dark hair spilling across the pillows. It had to have been her. The drugs she'd used had clouded everything, but he remembered her.
His obsession painted her features over every shadow his mind offered.
She made me want her.
The realization brought fresh horror. The drugs hadn't just stripped away his judgment—they'd twisted something deeper. Made him respond like some animal to the right stimulus. His body had betrayed him, craved what he never would have chosen with a clear head.
Or would he have?
The thought surfaced before he could stop it. Part of him—the part he'd spent years suppressing—had wanted Mara. Not Amara, his savior, his perfect future empress. But Mara, with her defiant eyes and sharp tongue, representing everything forbidden and therefore irresistible.
She'd known that. Exploited it. Used his own weakness against him.
Unforgivable.
The water around him grew murky with cleansing agents and purification oils, but the contamination went deeper than any formation could reach. This wasn't just physical defilement—though that alone would demand blood price. She'd compromised his imperial standing. Manipulated his bloodline's natural responses. Reduced the heir to the Xuán dynasty to something weak and controllable.
And she'd fled. Woken up and run, leaving him to face the consequences alone.
Coward.
When he finally emerged from the bath, something had settled in his chest. Cold. Familiar. The ruthlessness his tutors had drilled into him during private lessons—the ones about what imperial power truly meant when stripped of diplomatic courtesy.
His reflection showed golden eyes gone predatory. The careful civility he'd maintained for years—measured responses, diplomatic smiles, the appearance of mercy—none of it mattered anymore. She'd stripped away his reasons for pretense.
Good.
Let her see what she'd unleashed.
Fresh clothing felt like armor. Silk that had never been touched by treacherous hands, robes that carried the Xuán crest with uncompromised authority. He dressed slowly, deliberately, each layer rebuilding the imperial heir from the violated wreckage she'd tried to create.
But this version wouldn't smile diplomatically while calculating destruction. This version had been given permission—no, justification—to show his true face.
His communicator chimed. Lord Garrick's weathered features appeared on the crystal screen, expression grave but controlled.
"Your Highness. The family has been assembled. We await your presence to proceed with formal hearing of charges against Mara."
Charges. As if this were some merchant dispute to be resolved through negotiation.
But Kael understood the game Lord Garrick was playing. The old merchant prince wanted imperial authority to sanction whatever punishment he'd already decided upon. Wanted the Xuán bloodline's seal on Mara's destruction.
He'd get it.
"I'll be there within the hour." Kael's voice carried an authority that hadn't been there this morning. Before she'd stripped away his pretense. "Ensure all family members understand the gravity of the situation. What we discuss today will determine not just Mara's fate, but the future relationship between our houses."
"Of course, Your Highness. The family awaits your judgment."
Judgment.
Yes. That's what this was.
As the communication ended, Kael felt dark anticipation surge through him. The game that had begun with drugs and deception was about to reach its next phase—one where he held every advantage and his enemies would learn what happened when someone pushed an imperial heir past the point of diplomatic tolerance.
His magnetic suspension vehicle awaited on the private platform, formation systems charged and ready. As he settled into the familiar luxury, his reflection in the darkened windows showed a man transformed.
Not corrupted. Not broken. Simply... revealed.
The Xuán bloodline hadn't conquered rivals and held imperial power for decades through mercy or restraint. They'd done it through calculated ruthlessness dressed in civilized clothing. Amara understood that—she'd always understood that power required the willingness to wield it without hesitation.
Mara was about to learn.
The vehicle began its silent journey back through the empire's exclusive transportation network. Evening approached, bringing shadows that suited his mood perfectly. By the time he arrived at Emberhall, the family would be assembled and waiting—all those merchant princes and their ambitious offspring, gathered to witness justice being served with the full weight of imperial authority behind it.
She wanted to trap me. Force marriage through scandal and social pressure.
The thought crystallized into cold certainty. That's what Amara had explained, and it made perfect sense. Mara had orchestrated everything—the drugs, the hotel room, the carefully timed discovery. She'd thought imperial law would force his hand if she carried his child.
Foolish.
She'd forgotten that imperial heirs had resources beyond what merchant families could imagine. Ways to solve problems that didn't involve bowing to blackmail or accepting forced circumstances.
If she thought she could manipulate a Xuán into marriage, she'd discover exactly how much cruelty an imperial bloodline could bring to bear when properly motivated.
The magnetic roadways carried him toward his reckoning, formation-lights blurring past like judgment descending. His golden eyes reflected in the glass—predatory, calculating, finally free of the pretense that had always constrained him.
They forced my hand, he thought with something approaching satisfaction. Made me show what an imperial heir truly is when pushed. Let them discover that breeding and bloodlines aren't just ceremonial titles—they carry teeth.
Amara deserved justice for years of theft and torment at her sister's hands. That justice would be swift, thorough, and absolute.
And if that justice happened to serve his own need for revenge... well, that was simply efficient.
The cleansing was complete.
Now came the reckoning.