The Next Day,

Author

The heavy wrought-iron gates of the Blackwood estate did not groan as they usually did; they slid open with a smooth, oiled precision that set Prince Julian’s teeth on edge.

He sat astride his white stallion, his velvet coat immaculate, his silver-gray eyes scanning the outer perimeter of the villa. Beside him, Silas rode with a tense, rigid posture, while four elite palace guards trailed behind, their gold-plated armor gleaming under the pale Northern sun. Julian had expected to see the usual signs of a crumbling, isolated border territory—cracked masonry, sluggish guards, and the pervasive scent of despair.

Instead, he was looking at an active construction...