Abella knew for a fact that the Crown Prince had a fondness for the Black Lions. They had been kind to him and taught him how to wield a sword, and thus, he was quite good friends with them. In every one of her lives, Abella had seen the commoners’ rebellion at the Imperial Ball. She had died during the rebellion a couple times too. In some of her lives, she had tried to win the Emperor’s favour by telling him about it, but the Emperor had merely brushed her off. She had tried telling the Crown Prince before as well, but he had ignored her and didn’t even let her speak. She had tried telling numerous people, but everyone didn’t pay any attention to her warnings.

During the rebellion, Abella had seen the Black Lions fall every time. The Black Lions, as first-order knights, were the knightage to protect and guard the Imperial Palace’s main gates during the time of the Imperial Ball. Even if there were a rebellion, what would pitchforks and shovels do to defeat the highly talented individuals of the Black Lions? Or at least that was what everyone else thought. Someone had worked with the rebels and provided magical weapons for them, such as bombs, archery tools, and many more deadly weapons. And that was how the Black Lions all lost their lives.

Even though the rebellion failed overall, nothing could undo the Black Lions’ deaths, and that pushed the Crown Prince into devastation. It was part of what made him into the cold, tyrannical person Abella had seen the few times she had grown up to eighteen years old.

This time though, she would prevent the fall of the Black Lions. Perhaps then, the Crown Prince would feel indebted to her, even in the slightest, and give her a painless death when the time came. But this was not the only reason Abella wanted to save the Black Lions. In one of her past lives, when she was still foolishly naïve, she had gone to the training grounds in search of the Crown Prince, but found the Black Lions training there. She had been fascinated by the Black Lions’ swift movements and excellent swordsmanship, and seeing this, they offered to teach her. Abella had agreed readily, and that was what pushed her to pursue swordsmanship in the next few lives. Abella would always remember them, for they were the few people who didn’t look down on her and the few people she cared about.

“At sunset, the rebellion will take place and storm through the Palace gates on the second day of the Ball when everyone has their guards down.” Abella said, her tone and expression dead serious.

“The Black Lions are knights of the First Order – they would not die so easily to a group of commoners,” the Crown Prince retorted sharply, but he couldn’t help but feel uncertain.

“You are correct,” Abella replied. “But wrong at the same time. There is a person that will provide magic weapons for them and bombs. That is how the Black Lions will lose their lives.”

“Even if your words turn out to be the truth, why should I believe you?” the Crown Prince frowned.

“Because you have no other choice not to,” Abella smiled again and stood up, turning away to leave. Just as she got to the exit of the greenhouse, she paused and said to the Crown Prince, “it is your choice whether you believe me or not. Just know that if you don’t do anything about this, when the time comes, the Black Lions will die.”

~~~

Dietrich had no idea what to make of Abella’s warning to him. She had sounded so sure and confident when she told him about it, but yet again, what did she have to gain from telling him that? There was absolutely nothing he could think of other than… his trust. Was she trying to gain his trust by telling him that? And if she was trying to gain his trust, then her words would probably be true. But what if she had been ordered by the Empress to tell him, as a trap?

The Empress had always hated Dietrich, even before he became the heir to the throne. Dietrich was the son of a concubine the Emperor greatly favoured, and even after the Empress herself bore a child, the Emperor hardly looked at her. But when that concubine died from an uncurable illness, the Emperor had become a cold-hearted man. Dietrich, for the longest time, thought that the Emperor still loved him, even after the concubine’s death, but realised not long after that was wrong when the Emperor sent Dietrich off to the battlefield at the young age of ten. Back then, he had already been a genius swordmaster, but to send a young child off to the battlefield, no matter how talented, was still cruel. That was part of the reason he became a more reserved, untrusting person. When Dietrich came back from the battlefield, he had earned a threatening reputation and the title of Crown Prince. He had been confused by that, since he was far from the most eligible candidate for the throne and had little of his father’s favour. His brothers, the second and fourth prince, were far more suited for such a position, and were outraged when the Emperor announced that Dietrich was going to be Crown Prince.

Since then, assassination attempts came one after another, some getting creative whilst others being attempted cold-blooded murder. Assassin were sent, but none ever hit their targets, poison were put in his meals, but he had developed a resistance to them, and kidnappers were sent, but none managed to escape alive.

Dietrich was always weary of the Empress for many reasons, and her people too. He still was unsure whether Abella was one of the Empress’s people – she didn’t look as though she was, but looks could be deceiving. Deceiving… like her bright smile.

Why was he suddenly thinking of her smile? Dietrich had been confused since he had met Abella that day in the forest. Most questions in his head surrounded her – who was she really? How powerful of a magician was she? Was she one of the Empress’s people? Why did she sound as though she had seen everything terrible in life? Why wasn’t she afraid of death? He was so curious about her, and she had a strange aura around her that seemed to draw him to her.

However, Dietrich couldn’t bring himself to believe in what Abella had said. How could she possibly know? She was merely a young fourteen-year-old noble lady who hadn’t seen the negative sides of life yet. What would she know about death and rebellions?

She was strange. Her purple eyes were always shining with perceptiveness and intelligence, and she carried an air of dignity and nobility different to any other person Dietrich had ever met. In a way, he found her intriguing – a girl unafraid of death. But perhaps that would become a problem later down the line – she was certainly not stupid, so she couldn’t be manipulated. And being unafraid of death, torture and threats would not work.

Neither did she have a weakness. No family member she particularly loved, no servant, pet, or material possession. She seemed as though she wanted nothing; as though she expected nothing. Just who was she?