Chapter One
Ten years ago...
Gold ran down Cedric’s brow, warm as sunlight, rich with the scent of myrrh. The priest’s cool fingers traced an ancient sigil across his forehead, and Cedric inhaled deeply, steadying himself. This was meant to be sacred. A blessing. And it was. A quiet pride stirred in his chest—he had trained for this moment, had prepared for it. He believed in his duty and in the legacy passed down to him. But gods, he had never enjoyed the staring. So many eyes—assessing, expectant, waiting for him to stumble.
“Kneel, Prince of Lunareth.”
The priest’s words echoed through the High Temple of Aurenis. The vast chamber soared above Cedric, its mirrored walls catching slants of sunlight from narrow celestial windows. Sunburst mosaics stretched across the domed ceiling, displaying the history of Lunareth and its rulers in bands of gold and red jasper.
A hush fell over the gathered nobility. His mother and father stood at the very front, positioned just beside the priest. His mother’s proud smile was tinged with joy, while his father, ever composed, stood nearby to take part in the ritual when needed. Cedric straightened under their gaze, drawing strength from their presence. But he couldn’t see his sister, Gwenna. She was probably off making trouble somewhere, even during a formal ceremony.
The priest dipped his fingers into the sacred oil again, the flecks of gold shimmering as he anointed the backs of Cedric’s hands. An acolyte stepped forward, carrying a thin golden circlet upon a velvet cushion.
“This circlet marks you as the kingdom’s protector, the heir to Lunareth,” the priest intoned. “May you serve with wisdom and strength.”
The moment the metal touched Cedric’s forehead, a strange sensation rippled through him—like a key turned in the wrong lock. It vanished as quickly as it came, lost beneath the priest’s unwavering voice.
“By the will of the gods and the blessing of your ancestors, you are named the Gilded Prince.”
King William Cleburne stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Cedric’s shoulder. ”As you step closer to your future, remember this: power is not measured in conquest, but in kindness. A ruler is judged not by how he commands armies, but by how he protects those who cannot protect themselves.”
The words settled into Cedric’s bones, heavier than the circlet. He swallowed, throat tight, then lifted his gaze to meet his father’s as he spoke the vow he’d memorized. “Before Aurenis and all who bear witness, I swear to guard this kingdom and its people with wisdom and mercy. I swear it upon my name, my blood, and my breath.”
The priest gestured, and Darius stepped forward from the line of acolytes, carrying the shallow bowl of polished obsidian—the sacred stone.
Cedric’s heart stuttered. He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked his friend to take part in the ceremony. Too much of a distraction.
Darius had always drawn him like that—too familiar to fear, too dangerous to resist. A hand offered in loyalty, a blade hidden just beneath the skin. Cedric trusted him. Needed him. Wanted him more than he should have.
He extended his hand without hesitation.
The priest passed the ceremonial dagger to Darius, its handle wrapped in golden silk. Darius came closer, so close that Cedric caught the scent of him. Don’t think about that right now. Focus.
“The world will change because of you,” Darius murmured, so quietly only Cedric could hear.
Their eyes met, a breath too long. Then Darius reached, taking Cedric’s hand in his own as he turned the palm upward. Cedric was so focused on the sensation of Darius’s touch that he almost didn’t feel the pressure of the dagger’s tip.
The blade bit cleanly into Cedric’s flesh. A sharp sting bloomed, followed by a slow, pulsing ache. A thin line of crimson welled up, slipping down his fingers. Darius caught the drops in the bowl, tilting the obsidian to hold it—a gleaming crimson pool shining dark against the stone. Cedric clenched his jaw against the pain, unwilling to show weakness before all of those eyes.
Darius flashed a grin at him, then hefted the bowl for all to see. “I bear witness to the bond. Blood given, oath taken, life bound to duty.”
The priest nodded to Darius. Cedric watched as he slipped away to join the acolytes of Aurenis. But duty took precedence over longing. He forced himself to let Darius fade into the crowd.
The priest lifted the second ceremonial vessel. A shallow bronze brazier, coals smoldering within. He poured a vial of sacred resin into the embers. A plume of smoke wafted upward, shifting from pale gold to deep amber, the scent rich and heady. The smoke curled in slow, beckoning tendrils, waiting.
Cedric closed his eyes and inhaled.
The warmth filled his lungs, seeping through him like liquid sunlight. For a moment, something stirred deep inside, something half-asleep and waiting?—
Then the moment passed, interrupted by the priest’s final pronouncement. ”By sacred rite and sovereign will, I name you Prince Cedric Cleburne, Gilded Heir of Lunareth.”
Applause swelled around him, and Cedric banished all thoughts of the strange sensation. For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, to absorb the moment—the temple’s golden light, the heavy scent of myrrh, the comforting presence of his father beside him. But the solemnity of the ritual had already begun to fade, replaced by the expectant murmurs of the gathered nobility. The ceremony had been the easy part. Now he had to endure the celebration.
His father beamed, clapping a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. “You did well, Ced. We’re so proud of you.”
Mom hurried over, taking his still-bleeding hand in hers. She pressed a handkerchief against it. Warmth bloomed beneath his skin. “This will hold until you can see the royal healer.” She winked, voice light, but the magic laced beneath her words was unmistakable. “Go on, get this taken care of. We’ll see you in the great hall.”
Cedric smiled, holding the handkerchief in place. The soft tingle of his mother’s magic danced across the cut. It was unfortunate she couldn’t do more, but they were in public. Too many watching eyes. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll be there as soon as I’m no longer at risk of bleeding all over the marble.”
