The air in the Grand Throne Room of Aethria was so cold it felt like being put inside an ice cube. It bit Krystian's exposed hands as he knelt, making his palms sweat where they rested on the marble floor.
He had failed the Annual Recruitment Trial. His raw strength was no match against the others who trained with the most expensive weapons. Now, defying every protocol and risking execution, Krystian had barged past the guards and thrown himself at the foot of the throne.
"Your Majesty," Krystian gasped, his voice raw but carrying the desperate conviction of a seventeen-year-old fighting for everything he loved. "I beg you for just one chance! I know I lacked the skill and discipline, but I have heart! I swear on my life—I will serve Aethria. Just give me one chance to prove I am worthy."
Above him, the King, a man whose gaze was as hard and unyielding as the crown he wore, simply drummed his fingers on the throne. He looked down not at Krystian, but at the figure standing three paces to his left.
That figure was Miles Caspian Rivenhart.
Prince Miles, the Heir to the throne, was a sculpted picture of everything Krystian was not: pristine, contained, and utterly cold. He wore the black and silver uniform of the highest rank with a detached elegance. Miles hadn't even flinched when Krystian burst in, but his posture spoke volumes. He looked at Krystian with pure contempt—but behind that there was something else—a calculation or captivation.
"Krystian, the son of a fruit vendor," the King stated, the words echoing on the palace walls "You ask for a second chance after failing the first. An unprecedented request. But I am told you show... potential."
Krystian dared to lift his head, Hope shining in his eyes. "I do, Your Majesty. I only need guidance."
The King let out a short, dry sound that wasn't quite laughter. "Guidance. Indeed. My son, Miles, requires a demonstration of his own leadership capabilities. He is too often lost in his books and the woods. He is the same age as you, so, he would be the best person to asses you." The King's eyes fixed on Miles, who visibly stiffened at the public criticism. "Miles, I have a new assignment for you. You will take this boy, Krystian, and train him to be worthy enough to guard our nation. He will live with you, study with you, and accompany you on the investigation of the disappearances near the border."
Miles's eyes snapped to Krystian. The look was sharp, immediate, and utterly hostile.
"For one year," the King continued, his voice dropping slightly, a menacing threat peeking through the casual tone. "You will train him, discipline him, and observe his worthiness. If, at the end of that year, you, declare him worthy, he will have his position. If you do not... well, the boy's entire family will pay the price for this reckless display."
Krystian's breath hitched, the blood draining from his face. This was the deal. This was the Ultimatum. He knew he would not get a second chance without certain conditions, but it still didn't stop his heart from beating faster. The King had offered him a sword, then put his family on the blade. He had to succeed. He had to endure the Prince's training.
The King smiled, a terrible thing to witness. "You are dismissed, Krystian. Go get your belongings and return to the palace gate. Prince Miles will escort you to your living quarters."
Krystian scrambled to his feet, trying to keep the terror from showing. He managed a shaky bow. "Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you."
As Krystian backed toward the heavy doors, he felt the heavy silence of the throne room pressing down on him. He nearly reached the exit when Miles finally moved, stepping closer, his presence immediately radiating authority.
Miles's voice was low and sharper than any sword Krystian had ever handled.
"Listen carefully, Commoner," Miles said, his eyes utterly devoid of even a semblance of warmth. "You are a nuisance I did not request. You will address me only as 'Prince,' you will not speak out of place, and you will not, under any circumstances, disrupt my schedule. You are merely a test for me to prove my worth, nothing more." Miles stated staring Krystian straight in the eye.
"He's so arrogant. I just had to get stuck with a bighead like him and his gazillion rules too!" Krystian's brain worked out as many complaints about Miles as it could.
"And know this" Prince Miles continued, unaware of the hate spewing in Krystian's head "You exist to serve my duty, and you are disposable."