Kelen kept replaying the moment he kissed the princess.

  He, who had always been shy around girls, was changing here at the court of Ghurmaka. The princess had bewitched him, and suddenly he wanted to win more than ever before — the tournament, and her hand.

  After today, he was certain he had a chance. He could feel it — he would fight with everything he had, and he’d bring that arrogant Prince Qelmar down to the ground.

  Those thoughts kept swirling in his head as he walked through the corridors. He barely noticed where he was going, yet somehow followed the same path he had taken before.

  Then he turned into a narrower hallway leading to a smaller chamber lined with columns. At first, he thought he heard something, but his mind was too stormy to pay attention.

  The sound came again — clearer this time. Rough voices, full of anger. Then came a cruel laugh, a sharp hiss, and finally a moan of pain.

  Kelen froze. All thoughts of the princess vanished like steam above a pot. His shoulders tightened, his fists clenched. He was ready to fight.

  He reached the entrance and peeked inside. Two older servants were standing by one of the pillars, bullying a younger one who knelt on the floor. They shouted insults and struck him, knocking him down again and again. Fruit was scattered everywhere, and a silver tray lay overturned.

  “Well, look at you, clumsy fool! Shall we teach you how to carry a tray properly?” one sneered.

  “I’ll make you a whip,” the other added. “You’ll drag that tray around day and night. And if a single apple falls, you’ll do another day. You think the king’s treasury is bottomless, so you can toss fruit around the corridor? Didn’t anyone teach you how to hold a tray, you pig?”

  Kelen couldn’t bear it any longer. His heart was pounding, yet his body stayed frozen.

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  They’re two, and stronger,he told himself.I can’t beat them by force. But I can’t let this go on.

  He took a breath, closed his eyes for a heartbeat — and decided.

  “Leave him alone,” he said, but his voice betrayed him; the words fell short of reaching the bullies’ ears.

  They kept laughing, kept hurting the boy. Kelen cursed his own weakness — but this time, he stepped forward.

  He entered the chamber and shouted, his voice ringing loud and clear:

  “I said, leave him alone!”

  The echo carried his words across the room. The servants turned. One chuckled.

  “What do you want, little prince? We’re just teaching this one a lesson. It’s for the good of the royal treasury.”

  “For the good of nothing,” Kelen shot back. His eyes burned with anger, and suddenly he didn’t care if it came to a fight.

  “Leave him,” he said again, a third time — but now as a command. His voice was firm and sharp, biting into their arrogance like wolf’s teeth.

  One of the servants faltered. He finally realized this wasn’t some spoiled princeling, but a real prince — one who meant what he said.

  The other one, stubborn as stone, snapped back: “And why should we? Someone has to teach him a lesson.”

  “That’s no excuse for cruelty.”

  “So we should praise him for spilling fruit all over the floor?”

  Kelen stared straight into his eyes. “Who said he was the one who did it?”

  The servant looked away.

  “I bet someone else dropped the tray. Am I right?” he asked the kneeling boy. The young servant nodded silently.

  “You punished him for something he didn’t do,” Kelen continued, his voice steady now. “Then I’ll do the same to you. Before nightfall, you’ll both leave the court. I’ll find a reason to make it official.”

  “But we didn’t do anything wrong!” one protested.

  “And why were you punishing him then?” Kelen snapped. “You didn’t care about the truth — so don’t expect me to care about yours. Pack your things and go.”

  They stared at him, stunned. The prince’s face was hard, his eyes blazing, his fists clenched in quiet resolve.

  “Your Highness…” one began, falling to his knees. “Forgive us! It won’t happen again, I swear!”

  “Enough,” Kelen barked. “Get out.”

  The man realized there would be no mercy. He scrambled up and fled. The other hesitated only a moment before following.

  When they were gone, Kelen’s tension finally broke. His head spun, and he had to lean against a pillar.

  “Are you all right, my prince?” the young servant asked, still trembling.

  “Just give me a moment,” Kelen nodded. “It’s been… a lot.”

  He thought of the princess again — her kiss, mixing now with the heat of what had just happened. A few breaths later, he straightened, strength returning to his limbs.

  “Thank you, my prince,” whispered the boy.

  “You’re welcome,” Kelen said, picking a bunch of grapes from the floor and popping a few into his mouth. Then he walked out of the hall of pillars.