The Sinful Young Master

Chapter 377: Breakfast with two princes

"What would I do without you?" He pulled her dress, but she moved back, telling him no with her finger.

"And Jolthar—" her expression became serious "—be careful. You’ve made powerful enemies and attracted dangerous attention. The kind that doesn’t go away simply because you’re strong."

"I know."

He caught her hand and kissed her palm.

"I’ll be careful. Relatively."

Raayani laughed softly.

"That’s the best I can hope for with you."

She sighed as she watched his face.

"I should finish preparations. Walk me out?"

Jolthar dressed quickly in simple clothes and accompanied her through the villa’s corridors. Servants bowed as they passed, their expressions carefully neutral despite the gossip that was undoubtedly flowing through the staff about the young baron and his relationship with two of the empire’s most remarkable women.

At the entrance, an elegant carriage waited, marked with the Blue Rose insignia. Several guards in the merchant house’s colors stood ready, along with two attendants who had traveled with Raayani.

"Safe travels," Jolthar said.

Raayani paused before entering the carriage, turning back to him.

In front of everyone, she pulled him into a kiss that was decidedly not chaste, claiming him publicly one more time before she left.

When she released him, several of the servants were blushing and looking away.

"Keep Cleora happy," Raayani said with a slight smirk.

"And yourself alive. I’ll return within a month."

Then she was in the carriage, and the wheels were rolling.

Jolthar watched until it disappeared around a corner, then turned back toward the villa.

*

The dining room was already occupied when Jolthar entered.

Milan sat at the head of the table, reading through correspondence while eating.

Cleora was beside him, delicately working through fruit and pastries.

And across from them sat Prince Andrion, who had apparently made himself completely at home in his brother’s villa.

Andrion looked up as Jolthar entered, his face breaking into a brilliant smile.

"Ah, the hero of the hour! Or should I say, the victor of yesterday’s legendary battle?"

He gestured to an empty chair with theatrical flair.

"Please, join us. I’ve been dying to have a proper conversation with you."

There was something about Andrion’s energy that filled the room; he was vibrant, almost crackling with interest and vitality. His eyes tracked Jolthar’s movements with unconcealed fascination.

Jolthar took the offered seat, and a servant immediately appeared with food.

"Your Highness."

"Oh, please, just Andrion when we’re being casual," the prince said, waving away formality. "We’re all friends here, aren’t we? Or at least, interesting people thrown together by circumstance."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"So tell me, what exactly are your plans while staying in the capital? Because I have to say, it’s a bold choice given that half the imperial house is probably out for your blood right now."

"Half seems generous," Milan murmured without looking up from his papers.

"True, might be more like three-quarters," Andrion agreed cheerfully.

"You did defeat Princess Tamnarasi rather publicly. That’s not the kind of thing her supporters will forgive easily."

Jolthar served himself from the dishes before him.

"I don’t particularly care if they forgive it or not. I defended myself against an unprovoked attack."

"Technically, you provoked it by releasing your aura in the city," Andrion pointed out, though his tone was more amused than critical.

"But I take your point. Still—" his eyes gleamed with curiosity "—what’s your endgame? You can’t just stay here indefinitely, fighting off challengers like some kind of tournament champion."

"Why not?" Jolthar asked calmly, taking a bite of bread.

Andrion laughed, delighted.

"Oh, I like you. You’re either incredibly brave or completely insane, and I honestly can’t tell which."

He glanced at Cleora.

"How do you handle him? All that intensity must be exhausting."

Cleora’s expression was carefully composed, but there was warmth in her eyes when she looked at Jolthar.

"He keeps life interesting."

"I’ll bet he does," Andrion said with a tone that carried multiple meanings. His gaze flicked between Jolthar and Cleora with obvious appreciation for them both.

"You’re a lucky woman, Lady Cleora. And you—" he focused on Jolthar "—are clearly a man of exceptional taste as well as exceptional power."

Milan finally set down his papers and gave his brother a look.

"Are you quite finished?"

"Finished? I’ve barely started!" Andrion protested.

"This is the most interesting breakfast conversation I’ve had in months."

Before the exchange could continue, a soldier in Milan’s household colors entered the dining room and bowed.

"Your Highness, forgive the interruption.

A letter has arrived, addressed specifically to Lady Cleora Aravain."

Cleora looked up in surprise.

"For me?"

The soldier approached and presented a sealed envelope on a silver tray. The seal was distinctive, a complex pattern of interlocking circles in gold wax.

Both Milan’s and Andrion’s eyebrows rose simultaneously when they saw it.

"That’s—" Milan began.

"The seal of the Madam Secretary of the Merchant Union," Andrion finished, his jovial tone shifting to something more serious.

"Well, well."

Cleora took the letter, examining the seal with curiosity.

"Who is the Madam Secretary?"

"Only one of the most powerful women in the entire merchant sphere of the empire," Andrion explained.

"She leads the Merchant Union, not officially, mind you, but everyone knows where the real power lies. She’s legendarily reclusive. Most merchants go their entire careers without ever meeting her face-to-face."

"Even your father is wary of her."

"And she doesn’t send personal invitations lightly," Milan added.

"If she’s reaching out to you directly, it means something significant."

Cleora broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Her eyes scanned the elegant script, and her expression shifted from curiosity to surprise to thoughtful consideration.

"Well?" Jolthar asked.

"She’s inviting me to a private meeting," Cleora said slowly.

"This afternoon, at a location in the merchant district."

"That’s quite an honor," Milan observed.

"The Madam Secretary doesn’t extend such invitations to just anyone."

Andrion leaned back in his chair, his calculating mind clearly working through implications.

"She’s heard about the trial, about Jolthar, about everything that happened yesterday. She’s assessing whether you and your barony are worth cultivating as allies or if you’re a risk to be avoided."

"Or both," Milan added.