As the last of the dishes were cleared from the table, King Gerald, ever silent and composed, stood in from his seat at the head of the long table. He cast a glance at his sons and the consorts before turning his full attention to the young princess perched beside him. Princess Nastra had begun to tire from the long dinner, her head resting against the king's arm, her eyes blinking sleepily. A rare, gentle smile softened the king's stern face as he reached down, lifting his daughter effortlessly into his arms.
"Grandpapa, are we going to the garden tonight?" Nastra asked softly, her voice slurred with fatigue but hopeful.
The king’s voice, deep and calm, responded with surprising warmth. "Not tonight, little one. You need your rest. Tomorrow, perhaps."
Without another word to the rest of his family, King Gerald turned and began to stride out of the Sunset Pavilion, his long royal robes sweeping behind him. The room remained silent, but the atmosphere shifted as the king carried Nastra away—his departure leaving behind an unspoken reminder of his unwavering favoritism.
Prince Edric, the second prince and Nastra’s father, had remained quiet throughout the dinner, calmly enduring the simmering tensions between his brothers and the thinly veiled jabs from the royal consorts. But now, as his father took Nastra away, a faint smile appeared on his lips. He stood from his seat, pushing his chair back slowly, the scraping of wood against the stone floor breaking the silence.
“I’ll need to see my daughter,” Edric said simply, though his words were clearly meant to signify more than just a father’s concern. It was a subtle reminder that he was still Nastra’s father, regardless of the king’s obvious attachment to the child.
As he moved to follow the king out of the dining hall, Prince Damien’s voice cut through the air with a biting edge. "So quick to follow, are we, Edric?" Damien sneered, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "One might think you're trying to cement yourself in Father’s favor through her."
Edric paused in the doorway, his expression calm as he glanced over his shoulder at his older brother. "Unlike you, Damien, I don’t need to beg for affection," he replied smoothly, his voice steady. "Nastra’s bond with Father is built on something far more natural than ambition."
The dig struck home, and Damien’s lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes flashed with irritation. "Natural?" he echoed with mock surprise. "It seems to me that your daughter's charms are the only thing keeping you relevant at all."
Before Edric could respond, Gerrafin, the Third Prince, added his own snide comment. "Perhaps it’s not her charm but her usefulness," he said with a dark chuckle. "We all know Father doesn’t dote on anyone without a reason."
Edric’s gaze flickered between his two brothers, his calm demeanor never faltering. "Whatever Father’s reasons are," he said evenly, "Nastra remains his only granddaughter. A fact none of you can change."
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With that, Edric left the hall, his steps measured as he followed after the king and his daughter.
---
The Second Royal Consort, Selene, watched Edric's departure with a bitter expression, her fingers tapping impatiently against the table. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she said aloud, her voice laced with disdain. “How a single child can secure so much love. But then again, that’s Edric’s way—always using others to gain an advantage.”
Evelyn, the Third Royal Consort, who had remained largely silent throughout dinner, let out a quiet laugh. "It’s no wonder, really. Edric's only asset in this palace is that daughter of his. He knows without her, he'd have no standing. And now that the king has practically gotten too attached to her, well..." She trailed off, the implication clear.
Damien’s smile grew as he leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “And yet, my dear brother Edric still hasn’t realized that Father’s favor can shift just as quickly as it’s given,” he said, addressing his mother, Queen Priscilla, who sat at the head of the table, observing in silence.
“I wonder how long it’ll take for Father to get tired of his little doll,” Gerrafin added with a mocking tone. “After all, he always does.”
The consorts exchanged knowing glances, their frustration and jealousy barely contained. Selene stood from her seat, gesturing for her attendants to follow. “Come, Gerrafin. We shouldn’t waste our time here any longer,” she said sharply, her eyes narrowing at Priscilla before turning to her son.
Gerrafin rose without another word, following his mother out of the room, his face expressionless but his posture rigid with suppressed anger.
Evelyn, the Third Royal Consort, rose next, her steps deliberate as she turned to address Queen Priscilla. "A pity that the queen must always clean up after the king's messes," she said softly, her voice sweet but venomous. "But I suppose that’s what you're best at, isn’t it, Your Majesty?" She smiled without warmth as she beckoned to Nathaniel, who followed behind her, clearly bored by the entire affair.
As the room emptied, the tension seemed to thicken. Only Queen Priscilla and her son, Prince Damien, remained seated. For a moment, silence reigned between them, the queen's face impassive as she watched the departing consorts. But once they were alone, Damien’s mask of confidence began to crack.
“I’m sick of it, Mother,” Damien muttered, his voice filled with frustration as he leaned back in his chair. “Father parades that little girl around as if she’s the only thing that matters. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to sit here and wait—wait for a chance to prove ourselves while Edric strolls around like he’s already won.”
Priscilla, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, her voice calm but cold. “Patience, Damien. You lose control too easily.”
Damien scoffed, shaking his head. “How much longer must I be patient? Father grows more distant with each passing day. It’s as if the rest of us don’t even exist to him anymore.”
Priscilla’s gaze hardened as she looked at her son. “That child is a tool, nothing more,” she said sharply. “Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment. Edric’s favor will not last forever. We simply need to ensure that when it fades, you are the only one Father will turn to.”
Damien clenched his fists, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “And if it doesn’t fade? What then, Mother? What if Nastra continues to secure Edric’s place in Father’s heart?”
Priscilla’s expression darkened, her eyes narrowing. “Then we make sure that he is no longer a threat.” Her voice was low, dangerous. “Do you understand?”
Damien met her gaze, his frustration still evident, but he nodded. “Yes, Mother. I understand.”
Priscilla’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Good. Now, we bide our time. And when the moment comes, we strike.”
With that, the queen stood from her seat, her regal poise never faltering as she began to leave the room, her son trailing behind her.
Though the royal dining hall had emptied, the bitterness and resentment left behind continued to linger like a heavy fog, slowly seeping into the hearts of those who had sat at the king’s table.