Prologue

King Mattias rested his head in his hand, watching his war council closely as they argued among themselves. His son also observed, wisely choosing to remain silent. The kingdom had been on the brink of war, and the king feared it was only a matter of time before the neighboring land attacked.

“Maybe we should attack them first?” Duke Narage suggested.

“I suggest we send out a draft. We’re going to need more soldiers,” General Haddox said.

“I think we should cut off their trade system. Keep them from gaining more resources than they already have,” Sargent Kelley told the group.

They continued to bicker, getting progressively louder with each word spoken, and King Mattias was sick of it. He unsheathed a dagger hidden under his cloak and slammed it into the table. The hilt wobbled when he let go, but it didn’t fall down. Without looking up, he knew he had the men’s undivided attention.

“Acting like children fighting over fresh baked bread won’t get us anywhere,” the king growled, blue eyes focused on the dagger in his mahogany table. “And those plans will only make us more likely to lose. What we need-” he drawled, peering at his eldest son. The boy squirmed in his seat ever so slightly, reaching up to brush back his dark hair. “What we need,” he repeated, “is to break them from the inside out.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” General Haddox inquired, running a hand through his beard.

The king’s gaze moved to the dark corner of the room, his thin lips curling upwards. “Spymaster Luther.”

A hand shot out from the darkness, latching onto an unoccupied chair. After a moment, the man stepped out of the shadowed corner, pulling back his dark hood. The spymaster’s rich, chocolatey skin gleamed in the faint light from burning candles, a wild look in his green eyes. “King Mattias,” he said, bowing deeply.

“Spymaster Luther, I want you to send in spies.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” He smiled, his teeth pearly white and abnormally sharp. “Permission to infiltrate how I see fit?”

“I trust you to know what you’re doing,” the king said, crossing his legs and leaning back in his throne. “Now, let us divide. If the Spymaster asks anything of you, I suggest you help. Our kingdom depends on it.” He received many nods from the men around the table, as they stood, walking out of the room. His son sayed seated, however.

“What can I do?” Prince Lucien asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t just sit around when our kingdom is on the verge of attack.”

The king hummed, staring at his son with open interest. Prince Lucien had always been the active of his two sons. Though Mattias wanted to name him heir, Lucien insisted on being a commander of the royal army. The king had to admit that the prince was quite good with a sword and was phenomenal at strategizing. Even better than some of the nobles in his court. But his son hadn’t seen war before. Hadn’t had a taste of the terror battle produced. Allowing him on the war council was an obvious choice, but he wasn’t sure he could send Prince Lucien onto the battlefield when he had a likely chance of dying.

"I want you to visit the provinces," the king said. He knew he couldn't keep his son at the palace, so he would compromise. "I want you to observe the people and report back what you find. Bring our kingdom hope, Lucien. That's what they need the most right now."

The prince was silent for a moment before nodding respectfully. "I'll go pack my bag. I'll say goodbye before I leave." Without so much as a backwards glance, Lucien slipped out of the room, shoes making light tappings against the floor as he walked away.

Though King Mattias was sure he made the better decision, his gut rioted. He had a feeling that no matter what he did, his son would not come back the same man. Not after the war. Not after the stress.

He wasn't sure his son would come back at all.