The morning sun poured through the tall windows of the Bonaventura dining hall, gilding the table in warm light. For once, breakfast felt almost peaceful.

Edric was teasing Ezekiel about how crooked his cravat looked.
The Duchess kept slipping pastries onto Ezekiel’s plate when Lanastha wasn’t watching.
Even the Duke allowed himself a rare smile as he leafed through his morning reports.

Then the doors opened without a knock.

A man stepped inside, tall and sharp-featured, dressed in imperial black lined with silver. His boots were polished to a mirror shine, his steel-gray hair perfectly combed back. He looked no older than twenty, but his violet eyes had the practiced arrogance of someone who lived in palaces and never heard the word no.

Lanastha’s fork stilled. Her crimson gaze narrowed. “Cassian Vale.”

“Lady Lanastha.” He gave a shallow bow, just deep enough to be polite, but his lips curled faintly as his gaze slid past her to Ezekiel. “I see the rumors are true. You did bring back a child.”

Ezekiel stiffened. “I’m not a rumor.”

Cassian didn’t even bother to look directly at him. “Charming.”

From inside his coat he withdrew a parchment sealed with the Emperor’s golden crest and read aloud:
“By command of His Imperial Majesty, a banquet will be held in three days’ time at the Imperial Palace. The Duke, Duchess, Lady Lanastha, and her son are required to attend.”

He lowered the letter, eyes sweeping over Ezekiel as if weighing livestock. “The Emperor is eager to… meet your boy. See what sort of creature the Bonaventuras are raising in the countryside.”

Ezekiel’s fists clenched under the table.

Lanastha’s voice was cold as ice. “Tell His Majesty the Bonaventura family does not dance to orders like common vassals.”

Cassian smiled thinly. “His Majesty anticipated such defiance. He instructed me to remind you: refusal would be interpreted as treason.”

The Duke’s hand clenched around his wineglass until the stem cracked. “Enough,” he growled. “We understand your Emperor’s message.”

Cassian nodded as if speaking to a well-trained dog. “Excellent. I will inform His Majesty that you have accepted. And do make certain the boy is… presentable. His Majesty has little patience for untidy things.”

He gave Ezekiel one last faintly amused glance, like someone eyeing an insect pinned to glass, then turned on his heel and left without waiting to be dismissed.

When the doors closed, silence weighed heavy over the table.

“Imperial banquet,” Edric muttered, forcing a laugh that rang hollow. “Well, that’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Lanastha’s gaze was crimson steel. “It’s a trap.”

Ezekiel lingered outside the hall as the family dispersed, heart pounding. Lanastha was already issuing quick, cold orders to Rue and the shadow knights — scouts to shadow Cassian Vale, riders to watch the roads, escape routes prepared in case things turned bloody.

Breakfast was over.
The peace was over.

Ezekiel thought of his father’s voice in the dream: 

Stay close to Lana. Don’t let them turn you against her.
And for the first time, he truly understood why Ermes had sounded afraid.

The Emperor wasn’t curious.
He was hunting.