Chapter 18

Once our business was concluded, we sat down for lunch. The meal was an elaborate spread, with rich and fragrant dishes meticulously prepared and presented. As we ate, Gauriash, ever the storyteller, began revealing various details about Bao—his childhood, his past mischiefs, and aspects of his life that I had never known.

It was during this conversation that an astonishing truth came to light—Bao and the king were childhood friends.

I turned to him, curiosity evident in my voice. “Bao, if you were childhood friends with the king, then why did you stop speaking to him after his coronation?”

Bao hesitated, looking down at his plate. “I never had the courage to approach him. He is the king now, Asher.”

I frowned. “And? That changes nothing. Why does his title stop you from treating him as the friend you grew up with?”

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. “How can I address him as a regular friend when he now holds such a high position? He has responsibilities far beyond what we ever imagined as children.”

I set down my cup of spiced wine, my gaze firm. “Bao, that’s foolish thinking. If what your father says is true, then the very day after his coronation, the king himself came to find you, didn’t he?”

Bao nodded slowly. “Yes, but—”

I cut him off. “Listen to me, Bao. You consider me a friend, don’t you? You call me by my name without hesitation.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why can’t you do the same for him? Did it ever occur to you that he might have been heartbroken when you distanced yourself? That he might feel abandoned, believing that his best friend—his brother in all but blood—left him when he needed him most? Imagine how lonely it must have been, shouldering the burden of an entire kingdom, only to lose the one person who saw him for who he truly was, rather than just his title.”

Bao clenched his fists, his expression conflicted. “But ... he is the king, Asher, not a prince anymore.”

I leaned forward, my tone firm yet gentle. “In public, yes, he is the king. But when he is alone with you, he is still the same friend you grew up with. Leave the title aside for just a moment and think. Try to remember all the times he reached out to you, all the times he tried to bring you back into his life. Forget the crown, forget the throne, and just think of him as your friend.”

Silence stretched between us as Bao sat deep in thought. His fingers trembled slightly, his expression shifting as realization dawned upon him. A single tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another. He wiped his face roughly, but his voice was thick with emotion when he finally spoke.

“I promise you, Asher ... once we return to the castle after the auction, I will go to him myself. I will apologize for my foolishness and mend all the bridges I unknowingly burned. He deserves that much.”

A small smile played on my lips as I nodded. “That’s all he ever wanted from you, Bao. I’m sure of it.”

With that, the heavy mood lifted. As if making up for lost time, Bao launched into tales of their childhood—recounting their mischief, their adventures, and the trouble they had caused together in the palace. His voice grew lighter, his smile brighter, as though a weight had been lifted from his heart.

Laughter echoed around the table, and we enjoyed the warmth of shared camaraderie. Just as we were finishing our dessert—a delicate honeyed pastry—I heard something that sent a jolt through my spine.

Ancient Greek.

The language was unmistakable, spoken in a deep, resonant tone. My body tensed, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Without a second’s hesitation, I shot up from my seat and rushed towards the balcony. My heart pounded as I peered down into the streets below.

And what I saw froze me in my tracks.

Centaurs.

An entire column of them.

An army.

They marched in heavy chains, their muscular bodies weighed down not just by their bonds but by the humiliation forced upon them. Their hooves struck the ground in unison, creating a dull, rhythmic thud that resonated through the streets. But it was the sound that followed that made my blood run cold.

A single word, spat like venom.

“Cowards!”

The word was accompanied by the sharp crack of a whip. The lead centaur, a proud warrior despite his captivity, flinched as the lash tore across his back. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, but the sheer injustice of the act snapped something inside me.

Rage surged through my veins like molten fire, and before I could think, I found myself shouting at the top of my lungs.

“STOP RIGHT THERE! I SAID DON’T MOVE!”

The force of my voice carried across the market, silencing the commotion. Gauriash, who had been watching from his seat, saw me rise and immediately gestured for his guards to intervene. Within moments, a squad of heavily armed guards and several eunuchs rushed forward, weapons drawn, forming a circle around the merchant who had been overseeing the centaurs’ transport.

The parade ground to a halt.

I didn’t wait for anyone. I vaulted over the balcony railing, landing with a thud before sprinting towards the merchant in charge. Without hesitation, I stepped up to him, my face inches from his.

“How much do you want for them?” I demanded, my voice barely restrained by controlled fury.

The merchant turned to me, eyes narrowing in irritation. “Who the hell are you, kid? And what do you think you’re doing?”

I clenched my fists. “Just answer my damn question!”

Before the fool could respond, the rest of my party arrived—Gauriash, Bao, Xian, Aldric Voltron, and Sir Aldric Valefang. The merchant’s demeanor shifted when he saw the imposing figures flanking me, but instead of addressing me, he turned his attention to Gauriash.