The Scholar's Rebirth

The next morning, the palace buzzed with activity. Servants scurried through the halls, finalizing decorations, arranging extravagant floral displays, and ensuring that everything was in place for Princess Lilia's birthday celebration. The scent of freshly baked pastries and sweet confections wafted through the corridors, mingling with the rich fragrance of roses and jasmine.

Rowan had never been one for courtly grandeur, but even he had to admit—his niece's birthday was being treated with the same level of importance as a royal wedding.

As Julian adjusted the final clasp on Rowan's attire, the prince found himself staring at the mirror before him. The glass was slightly fogged from the morning's chill, but he could still make out his reflection—a towering figure dressed in deep, regal blues, the embroidered silver threading catching the light.

Even without a perfect view, Rowan could picture how he—and they—looked.

He had always been told he bore the unmistakable features of the Solmere bloodline. Strong, chiseled features framed by brown, wavy hair that fell just past his shoulders. Eyes of an intense, almost unnatural shade of gold—a trait only inherited by those of the royal family. His skin was fair, but it carried a warmth to it, a contrast to the often cold and unreadable expression he wore before the court.

And beside him stood Julian.

Julian was a head shorter, though that wasn't saying much considering Rowan's ridiculous height of six foot seven. Not that Julian was lacking—standing at a solid six foot one, he still towered over most men. His frame was leaner than Rowan's, built for agility rather than brute force, yet there was an effortless strength in the way he moved.

Where Rowan's hair was dark brown, Julian's was a deep, raven black, falling in loose waves just past his ears. His sharp, well-defined features carried a striking allure, the kind that made people look twice without quite understanding why. His eyes—a piercing shade of blue—held a perpetual glint of amusement, as though the entire world was a jest meant for him alone.

Rowan could hear his mother's voice from the night before, lingering in his thoughts. Maybe the right person is right beside you, but you're too busy searching for treasures far away.

The words floated to the surface of his mind, unbidden.

His gaze unconsciously drifted downward, locking onto Julian's reflection. His friend, his closest companion, his most loyal shadow—always there, always watching his back.

Julian noticed.

Blue eyes flicked up, catching Rowan's stare in the glass. A single dark brow arched, amusement flickering across his expression.

"What?" he asked, voice carrying that familiar edge of teasing.

Rowan blinked, his shoulders tensing slightly as he shook the thought from his head. What exactly had his mother put into his mind?

"Nothing," he muttered, turning away and adjusting his sleeves. "Let's go before my mother thinks I've run off."

Julian studied him for a moment longer, but if he had any suspicions, he didn't voice them. Instead, he smirked, stepping aside with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

"After you, my prince."

Rowan shot him a dry look but said nothing as he strode past, pushing the strange feeling deep down where it belonged.

Just as they were about to leave,Cassian entered, already dressed in his formal attire, looking far too composed for someone who also disliked court functions. "It would do you some good to be seen today, Rowan. Especially with all your brothers in attendance."

Rowan shot him a flat look. "Are you and my mother conspiring?"

Cassian didn't dignify that with an answer. Instead, he handed Rowan a neatly wrapped box. "Your gift for Lilia."

Rowan accepted it, a small smile tugging at his lips. The music box as well as the bracelet adorned with stars were beautifully wrapped.

Julian arched a brow. "Sentimental. I'm almost impressed."

Rowan rolled his eyes and strode past him. "Let's get this over with."

The ballroom was a spectacle of gold and ivory, dazzling chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of nobles dressed in their finest silks and jewels. Music swelled through the air, laughter and conversation mingling with the clinking of crystal goblets. The palace had spared no expense for Lilia's birthday, and it showed.

At the center of it all was Princess Lilia, dressed in an elegant blue gown, her dark curls pinned neatly with delicate silver pins. She looked every bit the princess she was expected to be, yet when she caught sight of Rowan, her entire face lit up with genuine joy.

"Uncle Rowan!"

She hurried toward him, etiquette momentarily forgotten as she threw her arms around his waist.

Rowan chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Happy birthday, little star."

She beamed up at him. "You came!"

"As if I'd miss it." He knelt slightly, handing her the box. "Here. A little something for you."

Lilia's fingers carefully unwrapped the package, her eyes widening when she saw the music box and bracelet. She traced the engraving on the box before unlocking it,a figurine bearing similar appearance as she popped out and a soft tune rang out, a delighted gasp escaping her lips. "It's beautiful."

Rowan leaned in slightly helping her put on the bracelet. "Whenever you wear it, remember—you can always wish on a star, even when you can't see one."

Her small arms wrapped around him in another hug. "Thank you, Uncle."

From a few steps away, Alistair and Evelyne watched the exchange. Alistair's expression was unreadable, but Evelyne's lips curled into a small smile, though whether it was approval or amusement, Rowan couldn't quite tell.

Before long his father caught sight of him.

Rowan barely had a chance to breathe before one noble lady after another was subtly directed toward him. Each one was stunning, draped in gowns that accentuated their finest features, their eyes filled with something between admiration and calculation.

The first to approach was Lady Viviette Durnmere, Princess Mariana's sister, striking beauty with glossy auburn curls and bright green eyes. "Prince Rowan," she greeted with a dazzling smile, offering a graceful curtsy. "It's been far too long since your last visit to court."

Rowan inclined his head politely. "Lady Viviette."

"You look quite regal tonight," she continued, stepping just a bit closer, "as expected of a Solmere prince. It must be exhausting, fending off admiration wherever you go."

He managed a smooth, practiced chuckle, the kind that revealed nothing. "It comes with the title."

Before Viviette could press further, another voice joined in.

Princess Evelyne's sister this time around,Lady Celeste Vaelmont, tall and elegant, with platinum blonde hair and sharp violet eyes, was already sliding into the conversation. "Viviette, don't monopolize the prince." She turned to Rowan with a knowing smile. "Your Highness, I was hoping you might grant me a dance tonight."

And so it continued.

One after another, ladies found their way to him—some directed by his father's silent influence, others drawn by their own ambition. Some were subtle, others bold. He endured it all with unwavering grace, smiling where needed, offering the right words to avoid offense.

Julian, of course, found the entire ordeal amusing. Standing a few feet away, goblet in hand, he watched with barely contained laughter in his eyes. Cassian, ever dutiful, remained close by, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with the parade of suitors.

At some point, Rowan caught his father's gaze from across the room. King Aldric's expression was unreadable, but Rowan knew that look well—it was expectation. A silent command.

Rowan exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to sigh outright.

Perhaps he should have stayed in bed.