Chapter 23
“Aunt,” Rain said warmly, leaning in to kiss Igna’s cheek. “Uncle. It’s good to see you.” He shook King Edmond’s hand, who returned the gesture with a curt nod.
“You look irresistibly handsome tonight, darling,” Igna said, fussing with the collar of his jacket. Her energy was kind as always but threaded with guilt and sorrow that she was desperately trying to hide. Rain offered her a reassuring smile, and her own carefully composed expression faltered.
“Tell me, why is my daughter not by your side this evening?” Edmond demanded, wasting no time. The Green Kingdom rarely danced around their intentions. “Wearing ghastly purple, might I add.”
Rain blinked, taken aback. He’d expected Ivy to blindside him, but he was certain she would have secured her father’s blessing before making such a bold political statement.
Wearing Purple wasn’t just a personal choice; it was a declaration.
Against him. Against the Blue Kingdom. Breaking their betrothal was one thing; aligning herself with Purple without consent was another.
It was reckless. Dangerous. Potentially an act of war.
He was certain his father would view it as such.
Igna suddenly became very interested in the symmetry of her pleats.
Rain considered telling Edmond the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to open that can of worms. This was Ivy’s mess. She needed to be the one to explain it.
“I wouldn’t dare presume the reasoning behind any female’s actions, Uncle,” Rain replied smoothly.
“She looks positively radiant as always,” he added just as a server returned with his drink. Perfect timing. Rain took a generous sip, letting the heat settle in his chest.
“It is quite an offensive gesture, don’t you think, Your Highness?” a voice barked beside Edmond.
Rain startled. He hadn’t even noticed the male standing there; Lochlan Ness, a short, sharp-tongued nobleman from the Blue Court known for stirring trouble wherever he could. Rain blamed his intoxication for missing him entirely.
“You cannot possibly be insinuating my daughter would do something to cause strife between our kingdoms, Lochlan,” Edmond snapped.
“I’m not insinuating anything,” Ness said, far too boldly. “It is as clear as daylight. Princess Ivy made a very interesting statement on behalf of your kingdom. I was shocked you allowed such an action, but now I see she acted alone.”
Rain’s stomach twisted. Ness’s energy was smug, confident; he clearly believed Rain would protect him if the Green King reacted poorly. Poor judgement on his part.
“Your Highness,” Ness continued, addressing Rain, “it brings me no pleasure to say this, but I feel duty-bound to ensure you are aware. I couldn’t help but notice the very sizable engagement ring upon the Princess’s hand this evening.
I assume it is not a gift from yourself, given the lack of an official announcement and its deep violet hue”
Rain froze, fingers tightening around his glass. How was he supposed to respond to that?
Edmond’s energy darkened, storm clouds gathering, ready to unleash on the nobleman. But Igna spoke first—her voice trembling.
“It’s just a phase. You know how Ivy is,” she blurted out.
Edmond’s furious gaze snapped to his wife.
“Darlings,” Igna rushed on, “I didn’t say anything because I was sure—no, I am absolutely certain—this is just Ivy acting out. She is impulsive, and she has waited her whole life for the marriage she was promised. Patience isn’t her strong suit, and she has been incredibly patient over the years.”
“Are you blaming our Prince for her disgraceful actions?” Ness gasped dramatically.
“No! Rain, darling, no.” Igna grabbed his wrist, her eyes pleading, her desperate energy twisting in his gut.
“Where is that girl?” Edmond growled, face flushed with fury as he shoved past Rain and stormed across the ballroom.
“Edmond, please—you’re going to cause a scene,” Igna hissed, hurrying after him, skirts swishing in panic.
Heads turned. Conversations faltered. Gossip ignited like wildfire.
Rain stared after them, stunned, as they marched toward the Purple Court—toward the thrones where his parents sat.
Fuck.
Even through the haze of alcohol, the implications clicked into place. He shot Ness a look of pure irritation; the male looked far too pleased with himself. Rain made the split-second decision to follow the Green regents.
Snow caught up to him, grabbing his hand instinctively. The sudden shutdown of his empathic power made him stumble at the sensory whiplash. She snatched her hand back, whispering an apology, eyes full of questions she didn’t dare voice.
“Dad, what are you—?” Ivy began, but her words died as Edmond seized her wrist and lifted her hand to eye level.
Shame and embarrassment radiated off her in waves. Her gaze flicked to Rain, accusation flashing across her features. Julian had gone pale, shrinking behind her, looking helplessly toward his parents.
King Azrien rose from his throne, towering above them, watching the unfolding disaster with predatory interest.
“Why, daughter,” Edmond spat, “are you wearing jewellery of the Purple Kingdom? Parading around like a piece of their property in front of the allied courts? Do you even understand the consequences of such treason?”
His power lashed out—vines snaking from his wrist, coiling tightly around Ivy’s arm. Rain felt the king’s control slipping. Instinctively, he pushed calming energy toward him, trying to diffuse the situation before it exploded.
“Your Grace,” Julian said, stepping forward like a fool, “with the greatest respect, we had hoped to speak with you privately before—”
“Son, be quiet,” King Valon snapped, mortified. Clearly the Purple Court had instigated the union and were now realising the consequences of their missteps.
“RESPECT?” Edmond roared. The vines tightened, creeping further down Ivy’s arm. She whimpered, terrified. Igna gasped and tried to pry the vines away, but Edmond’s glare froze her in place. She instead clutched Ivy’s free hand to her chest, trembling.
The Green and Purple courts erupted—shouting, accusing, threatening. Ivy sobbed silently, her hand being yanked toward the Purple King as if she were a ragdoll.
Magic thickened in the air, humming with danger.
Rain grabbed Snow’s hand as the energy threatened to overwhelm him. She squeezed tightly, eyes wide with concern.
“You dare embarrass the House of Royale under my roof?” King Azrien thundered from above. Rain rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. “Disrespecting my generosity? That girl is promised to us—to my son and heir. Speak now if you wish this to be the act of war it appears to be.”
Silence slammed through the room.
Rain gently pried Snow’s fingers from his hand. He needed to feel the energy. He and Snow were the only aetherials strong enough to stop a full-scale magical brawl or protect innocents like Navy.
“Be ready to change the forecast,” he whispered. Snow nodded, pale.
“Azrien, you are like a brother to me,” Edmond said first, voice shaking.
“I would never disrespect you or your court. I have been blindsided by my daughter’s betrayal.
” He released Ivy; the vines fell to the floor.
Ivy’s arm dropped limply to her side as tears streamed down her face.
Rain’s heart clenched; he hated seeing her cry again.
She looked defeated, ashamed, unable to lift her gaze.
“We are family,” Edmond continued. “I am as appalled as you. Disgraced by my own blood.”
Azrien hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing at Rain as though trying to read his involvement. Of course, he suspected Rain. It was always his fault.
Rain lifted his chin, meeting his father’s gaze head-on. Snow tugged at his sleeve, silently begging him not to provoke him.
“Valon,” Azrien barked, turning to the Purple King. “Explain.”
Valon cleared his throat. “I apologise for the handling of this matter, but I will not insult you by denying my suspicions. My son has spent considerable time at the Green Palace recently. I suspected he had a love interest there. I did not know it was the princess until earlier this week. I believed them capable of making sensible choices.”
He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully.
“What has happened today blindsided us all. But perhaps there is a way to come to an agreement. We have several eligible princesses we could offer in place of Princess Ivy—”
Rain’s heart lurched.
Absolutely not.
The other kings scowled. Arguments erupted again. Azrien stormed down from the podium, guards at his heels. Snow braced herself, waiting for Rain’s signal.
The room was spiralling into madness.
Rain looked at Ivy, her spirit broken. Then at Julian, who was terrified. Then at the three kings who were seconds from war.
He didn’t think.
He acted.
Rain climbed onto the nearest table, knocking over empty champagne flutes and sliding plates aside. Guests gasped, staring up at him—half fearful, half enthralled.
He pulled his power inward, absorbing the energy of every Aetherial in the room. A monumental surge. Then he amplified one singular desire:
Silence.
“Enough!” he roared.
The command blasted through the estate. The room fell instantly, eerily quiet. Nobody dared move a muscle under the thrum of immense power.
Rain took a breath, glaring into the crowd as he adjusted his cuffs. His next words sealed his fate. So be it.
“I would like to regretfully inform all present that I, Prince Rain Beau Royale, heir to the Blue Kingdom—as is my right—terminated my betrothal to Princess Ivy Emerald of the Green Kingdom as of last Azday.”
Gasps rippled through the hall.
“I know, scandalous. I take full responsibility for the misunderstandings here today; it has been quite the week. I guess I forget to mention it. I would like to offer my humblest congratulations to Princess Ivy and Prince Julian on their engagement.”
Ivy stared at him in horrified confusion. Julian looked like he’d been slapped. He had given them both a lifeline, despite their complete disregard for him and his feelings.
Rain smiled at them, then turned his attention to his father’s thunderous glare.
“I suppose we shall discuss this over dinner.”
He winked at his father. Azrien’s jaw clenched at the challenge. Boiling rage poured off the king, almost brimming over the edge of his tightly strung control.
The room buzzed with electric excitement.
“Now,” Rain said lightly, “Let’s continue this spectacular evening of reunion and celebration and not allow this… minor inconvenience ruin the night.”
He hopped off the table, closed his channels and strode out of the hall onto the balcony overlooking the gardens.