Reincarnated as an Elf Prince

Lindarion crossed to the side of the room, leaned against the wall. The chill of the stone seeped through his coat.

"You already know what I'm going to ask?"

Erebus gave a humorless sound. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a grunt.

"I know you," he said.

Lindarion didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

Erebus finally looked up.

His eyes were sharp as ever, like smoke that hadn't chosen which way to drift.

He picked up the smallest blade and turned it slowly in his fingers. "The girl you wanted to, did she talk to you?"

"Not in words."

"Did you…touch her?"

Lindarion's mouth twitched. "Almost."

"That's a yes."

"No," Lindarion said. "It's a survived-no."

Erebus nodded once, as if that made sense.

It did.

In their language.

"I need to call the council," Lindarion said.

"I figured."

"And after that—"

"We move."

"Not yet," Lindarion said. "We need to understand the pattern. The glyphs weren't random. They were placed."

"Traps?"

"Locks."

Erebus raised a brow.

Lindarion added, "Something's trying to open them. And we've only seen two."

Erebus placed the blade down, precisely between two others.

"And who's the 'we' in this scenario?"

"I don't know yet."

"You're including me."

"That wasn't a question."

"No," Erebus said. "It wasn't."

A quiet beat passed.

Then Lindarion crossed the room, grabbed a chair, and dropped into it opposite the table.

He looked at the chain whip, gleaming faintly in the low light.

"You taught me to kill faster than I learned to read."

Erebus didn't flinch.

"You needed it."

"I still do."

Erebus leaned forward now, resting one arm on the table.

"So what do you need from me?"

"Nothing."

A pause.

Then Lindarion added, "Everything."

Erebus blinked.

Just once.

Then: "That's more like it."

They sat in silence for a minute.

Outside, a breeze curled against the stone windows.

Lindarion exhaled.

"I spoke to Vaerelina."

Erebus tilted his head.

"She knows more than she says."

"They always do."

"I want her watched."

"She'll spot anyone I send."

"I wasn't talking about anyone else."

Erebus stared at him.

Then stood.

Moved to the far wall, where his coat hung over a blade hook.

He pulled it on in one clean motion.

"You trust her?"

"No."

"But you trust me?"

Lindarion's answer was simple.

"I trust what you do when you don't trust someone."

Erebus smiled—,barely.

Then walked past him.

"Get some rest," the mercenary muttered. "Tomorrow you stand in front of ten people who think you're still a child."

Lindarion turned toward the window.

"I'm counting on it."

—

Dawn came with gold-tinted clouds, drifting low over Solrendel like slow banners. The palace domes caught the first light and refracted it through crystal-lined corridors, turning the interior halls into rivers of pale color. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Royal days usually began with the subtle chaos of staff movements, scroll runners, attendants, diplomatic aides murmuring over parchment. But today—

They waited.

Lindarion stood at the edge of the basin in his chamber, shirtless, hands braced against the cold stone rim.

His reflection stared back: pale skin dusted with old bruises, faint cuts that had faded to memory, and eyes sharper than when he last stood in this palace as a boy.

His hair was still damp from the basin, combed back but already trying to fall across his brow. He didn't bother fixing it. Let them see he wasn't here to play prince.

He dressed slowly.

Not in royal robes.

He chose black.

Soft, quiet fabric bound close to the skin. Clean lines. No ornaments. A single crimson sash across the waist, the only nod to his house. His boots were worn leather, reinforced at the sole from weeks on the road.

A ceremonial sword hung on the wall. He left it untouched.

At the door, someone knocked once.

Seraphine entered a moment later. She wore her full formal uniform, obsidian armor polished until it reflected light like ice. The white ribbon at her shoulder marked her rank.

She said nothing about the way he looked.

Just: "They're assembling."

He nodded once.

"Do I speak first?" he asked.

"No," she said. "But they'll try to make you."

"Of course they will."

She stepped aside, gesturing for him to follow.

They walked through the upper hall where morning light slanted across the murals, depictions of the First Flame, the founding of Eldorath, and the Night of Hollow Winds. All stories every elf was raised with. All stories everyone edited depending on the audience.

Lindarion glanced at none of them.

He remembered enough lies already.

—

The Council building stood built into the side of the palace cliffs.

Its architecture differed subtly from the rest, more austere, less ornamental. The stone was darker, the ceilings lower. It was a place built for discussion, not pageantry.

But today would be different.

Today, the seat of silence had to listen.

—

Two royal guards opened the massive twin doors without a word.

Inside, the room curved like a coliseum in reverse,half circle, with tiered seats rising gradually in a dome of white stone.

Ten chairs formed the ring of power, evenly spaced, none more ornate than another. That was the illusion, anyway.

Lindarion entered.

He didn't hesitate.

Didn't pause to see who was present.

He walked to the center of the chamber, the circle floor carved with the sigil of the Sunblade crest.

Seraphine stayed at the edge.

And slowly, the room filled.

Robes of gold and green. Long silver hair tied back in high braids. Intricate shoulder-plates and ceremonial cuffs. The High Council was made of nine others. Eldrin, as king, was the tenth.

They didn't all look at him.

Not directly.

Some took their seats without acknowledgment. Some whispered to aides. Some studied the arch above his head as if the ceiling's design had changed overnight.

Only one locked eyes with him immediately—

Vaerelina Starshade.

No robe this time. No cloak of office.

Just her and her mind.

Her gaze flicked once to his boots.

Then to his hands.

Then nowhere.