Adrian's POV
I didn't drink the poison.
At the last second, I "accidentally" stumbled and spilled the wine all over my shirt. The red liquid soaked through the white fabric, looking disturbingly like blood.
The wall panel finished sliding open. A servant stepped out—the same one who'd stuck me with the pin earlier. His eyes went wide when he saw the empty glass in my hand and the wine all over me.
"Your Highness! Are you alright?" He rushed forward, but I saw the calculation in his eyes. Checking if I'd actually drunk it.
"I'm so clumsy," I said, keeping my voice weak and embarrassed like Adrian would. "I tripped. The medicine spilled everywhere."
The servant's face tightened. "That's... unfortunate. That was your last dose for tonight. The Royal Physician won't prepare more until tomorrow."
"I'll survive one night without it," I said. Then I pretended to yawn. "I'm exhausted. You can go."
The servant hesitated. He clearly wanted to force me to drink something else, but he couldn't do it obviously. Not yet.
"As you wish, Your Highness." He bowed stiffly and left through the secret passage, pulling the panel shut behind him.
The moment he was gone, I stripped off my wine-soaked shirt and checked my body. Thin. Pale. Bruises everywhere from the constant poison. This body was a mess.
But I was alive.
I spent the rest of the night searching the room. Found three more hidden passages. Two more servants' spy holes. No wonder Adrian never had any privacy. They'd been watching his every move, making sure he stayed weak and isolated.
Well, that was about to change.
Dawn came slowly. I'd barely slept, too wired on adrenaline and planning. At first light, I dressed in simple clothes and slipped out through one of the secret passages I'd discovered.
The East Garden was empty and quiet. Flowers bloomed everywhere, but I barely noticed them. I was too busy scanning for threats.
Cassandra appeared like a ghost, wearing a dark cloak. Her eyes were sharp and alert.
"You survived," she said. Not a question. An observation.
"Told you I would." I gestured to a stone bench hidden behind some bushes. "We need to talk fast. Guards patrol every fifteen minutes."
We sat. Cassandra watched me with those calculating green eyes.
"Show me the proof," she demanded. "About my father."
I'd spent the night going through Adrian's memories, piecing together fragments of overheard conversations and hidden documents. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
"Your father was the Royal Poison Taster," I said. "His job was testing the Queen's food and drink. Three years ago, he discovered someone was slowly poisoning Queen Helena—my mother. He reported it to the King, but King Aldric didn't believe him. Said he was making up stories to seem important."
Cassandra leaned forward. "Go on."
"Two months later, my mother died. The Royal Physician declared it was a heart condition. But your father knew better. He started investigating privately, collecting evidence. He found out the poison came from Queen Seraphine's personal supply."
"How do you know this?"
"Because he wrote it all down. Kept a journal hidden in his office. After he was executed, his journals were seized and supposedly destroyed." I paused. "But I know where one of them is hidden."
"Where?"
"Queen Seraphine's private chambers. She kept it as insurance, in case anyone ever questioned her about my mother's death."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "You're saying the Queen has evidence of her own crime?"
"People always keep insurance. Trust me, I know." That was pure Marco talking. In the mafia, everyone kept dirt on everyone else. "The journal proves your father was innocent and names Seraphine as the real murderer."
"Then why hasn't anyone found it?"
"Because no one's looked. Everyone believes the official story—that your father poisoned the Queen and all evidence was destroyed." I met her eyes. "But if we get that journal, we can clear your father's name and destroy Seraphine."
Cassandra was quiet for a long moment. "Breaking into the Queen's chambers is suicide. She has guards, wards, traps..."
"I know. That's why I need your help. You know poisons. You know the palace layout from when your father worked here. You're smart enough to help me plan this." I leaned closer. "And you're desperate enough to take the risk."
She flinched at that last part, but didn't deny it.
"What do you get out of this?" she asked. "You're risking your life for my family's honor. Why?"
"Because Seraphine is poisoning me too," I said bluntly. "The same poison she used on my mother. I have maybe six months before it kills me. I need her gone. And I need allies I can trust—people who hate her as much as I do."
Understanding dawned in Cassandra's eyes. "You're not doing this for me. You're doing this to save yourself."
"I'm doing it for both of us." I held out my hand. "So what do you say? Partners?"
She stared at my hand. "If I agree to this, I want something else too."
"What?"
"When you become king, I want you to fund a hospital in my father's name. A place where poor people can get medicine without paying." Her voice shook slightly. "My father always said nobles got the best doctors while common people died of simple diseases. He wanted to change that."
I thought about my sister Maria. She'd died because we couldn't afford a good doctor. The free clinic took too long, and by the time they saw her, it was too late.
"Deal," I said. "The hospital gets built. And it'll be the best one in the kingdom."
Cassandra took my hand. Her grip was firm and strong.
"Partners," she agreed.
We shook on it, sealing our alliance.
"Now what?" she asked.
"Now we—"
A trumpet blast echoed across the palace grounds. Loud and commanding.
Cassandra jumped. "That's the Royal Summons. Everyone has to go to the throne room immediately."
"What's happening?"
"I don't know. But if we don't show up, we'll be noticed." She stood quickly. "We need to go. Separately. I'll enter through the main doors. You go through the side entrance."
She disappeared before I could argue.
I made my way to the throne room, my weak legs protesting every step. By the time I arrived, the massive hall was packed with nobles, servants, and court officials. Everyone was whispering nervously.
I slipped in through a side door and found a spot against the wall where I could watch without being noticed.
My brothers were already there. Damian stood tall and proud near the throne, looking like he'd already won whatever was about to happen. Elias stood beside him, looking nervous.
Queen Seraphine sat in her chair beside the throne, her face calm but her eyes sharp. She was watching the crowd, looking for something. Or someone.
Then King Aldric entered.
My father—no, Adrian's father—looked old and tired. He'd aged badly in the three years since his first wife died. His crown sat heavy on his head, and he walked like each step hurt.
Everyone bowed. I bowed too, even though I hated it.
The King sat on his throne and raised his hand for silence.
"I have gathered you here to make an important announcement," he said, his voice carrying through the hall. "As many of you know, I am not getting younger. My health has been... declining."
Whispers erupted. The King was admitting weakness?
"Therefore," King Aldric continued, "I have decided to name my successor sooner than planned. In six months, we will hold the Succession Trials."
The whispers became shouts. Everyone knew about the Trials—they were ancient tradition. Three challenges to prove who deserved the crown: Combat, Strategy, and Leadership.
"My three sons will compete," the King said. "Prince Damian. Prince Elias." He paused. "And Prince Adrian."
The room exploded with laughter.
People weren't even trying to hide it. They laughed openly, pointing at me, making jokes. I heard some of their comments:
"Adrian? In the Trials?"
"He'll die in the first challenge!"
"Why even include him? It's cruel!"
Even some of the servants were laughing.
King Aldric didn't stop them. He didn't defend me. He just sat there on his throne, refusing to even look in my direction.
My brothers were smiling. Damian actually waved at me mockingly, as if to say "good luck dying."
Queen Seraphine watched me with cold satisfaction. She probably requested that I be included, knowing I'd die during the Trials and save her the trouble of poisoning me further.
Standing there against the wall while hundreds of people laughed at me, I felt something inside Adrian's memories—shame, worthlessness, the crushing weight of everyone's hatred.
But Marco had felt this before too. Back when I was a nobody from Brooklyn and the Five Families laughed at me for thinking I could build an empire.
I'd made them all pay for that laughter.
This kingdom was about to learn the same lesson.
I looked across the room and found Cassandra in the crowd. She wasn't laughing. She was watching me with worried eyes.
I gave her the smallest nod. Don't worry. I've got this.
"The Trials will test combat, strategic thinking, and leadership abilities," King Aldric announced. "The winner will be named Crown Prince and heir to the throne. The losers..." He paused. "Will forfeit their claim to succession forever."
That was new. Adrian's memories didn't mention that rule. This wasn't just about winning—it was about survival. The losers would lose everything.
"You have six months to prepare," the King said. "Use them wisely. That is all."
He stood and left the throne room without another word. Queen Seraphine followed him, throwing one last calculating look at me.
The nobles continued laughing and talking as they filed out. I stayed against the wall, letting them pass.
Damian walked by with his supporters. When he saw me, he stopped.
"Adrian," he said with fake concern. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this. I know Father's just including you to make it look fair." He leaned closer. "Do yourself a favor, little brother. Drop out now. Save yourself the embarrassment."
"Thanks for the advice," I said calmly. "But I'm competing."
Damian's smile disappeared. "You'll die. You know that, right? The first challenge is combat. You can barely walk up stairs without getting winded."
"Then I guess I'd better start training."
For just a second, I saw confusion in Damian's eyes. Adrian never talked back. Never challenged him. Something was different.
"Your funeral," Damian said finally, then walked away.
Elias approached next. Unlike Damian, he actually looked guilty.
"Adrian, I..." He swallowed hard. "Maybe Damian's right. The Trials are dangerous. You could get hurt."
"I'll be fine," I said.
"But you're not strong enough—"
"Yet," I interrupted. "I'm not strong enough yet."
Elias stared at me like I was a stranger. "What happened to you? You're acting different."
"People change." I pushed off the wall, forcing my weak legs to hold me upright. "Six months is a long time. You'd be surprised what can happen."
I walked away before he could respond.
Outside the throne room, Cassandra waited in the shadows.
"That was insane," she whispered. "Everyone thinks you're going to die."
"Let them think that." I leaned against the wall, exhausted from standing for so long. "It gives us an advantage."
"What advantage? You can barely stand!"
"They'll underestimate me. They always do." I looked at her. "My brothers are training to fight each other. They're not training to fight me because they don't see me as a threat. That's our opening."
Cassandra studied me for a long moment. "You really think you can win?"
"I don't think. I know." I straightened up despite my protesting muscles. "Because this isn't about being the strongest or the best fighter. It's about being the smartest and the most ruthless."
"And you're smart and ruthless?"
I thought about twenty years in the mafia. About building an empire from nothing. About surviving twelve assassination attempts and destroying every rival who came after me.
"You have no idea," I said.
Cassandra's eyes widened slightly, as if she'd glimpsed something in my expression that didn't belong to a sheltered prince.
"Alright," she said slowly. "So what's our first move?"
"We need to—"
A servant appeared at the end of the corridor. When he saw us together, his eyes went wide. Then he turned and ran.
"That's not good," Cassandra said.
"No, it's not."
We'd been seen together. Again. Right after the Succession Trials announcement.
People would talk. Queen Seraphine would hear about it.
And she was already suspicious.
"I need to go," Cassandra said quickly. "If they see us together too much—"
"Wait." I grabbed her wrist. "Tonight. Midnight. Meet me in the North Tower library. There's something else you need to see."
"What?"
"Proof that your father wasn't the only victim." I lowered my voice. "Seraphine's killed at least three other people who discovered her secrets. And one of them was my brother."
Cassandra's breath caught. "You had another brother?"
"Prince Marcus. He died five years ago. Everyone says it was a hunting accident." I met her eyes. "It wasn't."
Before she could respond, voices echoed down the corridor. Guards were coming.
"North Tower. Midnight. Don't be late," I said.
Then I walked away, leaving her standing there with shock written all over her face.
As I limped back toward my chambers, my mind raced with plans. Six months to prepare for the Trials. Six months to get stronger, build alliances, and destroy Queen Seraphine.
In my old life, I'd built an empire in less time.
I could do this.
I had to do this.
Because if I failed, I was dead.
I was so focused on planning that I didn't notice someone following me until a hand clamped over my mouth from behind.