Chapter 146: Arriving and seeing a reception

"Kaelen," Alaric called out, his voice echoing off the courtyard walls.

The knight stepped forward, clad in his usual silver plate, his expression as unreadable as ever, and he bowed.

"Your Grace?"

"You are to stay within earshot of Julian at all times until he reaches the study doors," Alaric commanded, his hand still lingering on Julian’s shoulder, a final, physical anchor. "Protect him, no matter what you have to do."

Kaelen bowed deeply. "On my honor, Your Grace."

The words, ’

Protect him, no matter what you have to do,’

were an indication that even if it was the Emperor, if it looked like Julian was in danger, he had to protect him, prioritise his safety, and not care what happens next.

After all, the only danger in the palace known to them was the Emperor.

Julian turned to Alaric, seeing the storm of unease still swirling in those blue eyes. He reached up, his fingers briefly grazing the Duke’s jaw—a small, private gesture that said more than any vow could.

"I’ll be back before the sun begins to set, Lucien. Don’t pace the floors too much."

Alaric caught his hand, pressing a firm, almost desperate kiss to Julian’s palm before letting go.

"Go. Before I change my mind."

Julian climbed into the carriage, Lucius scrambling in after him with his slate tucked under his arm. As the wheels began to turn and the manor retreated behind them, Julian leaned his head against the padding of the seat. The ’lethargy’ from the sedative was still there, a dull hum in his muscles, but his mind was sharp.

He glanced at Lucius, who was staring out the window, his small chest puffed out in a mimicry of Alaric’s protective stance. It made Julian’s chest ache with a mixture of affection and guilt.

I have to be perfect,

Julian thought, straightening his coat.

The moment I show a crack, the Emperor will wedge his fingers in and tear everything apart.

The journey to the Palace was shorter than he wanted it to be. As the carriage slowed, the sounds of the Palace began to filter in—the rhythmic marching of guards, the distant chime of the courtyard clock, and the stifling atmosphere of a grand place built on secrets.

When the door was opened by a stone-faced Imperial attendant, Julian stepped out, squinting. He expected no reception at all since he didn’t really want to be here, but then there was magically a reception that felt too loud for his current well-being.

There was a line of guards filed from his carriage door to the entrance, like he had suddenly become someone powerful since the last visit.

Standing at the top of the stairs wasn’t just a servant waiting to lead them to the study. It was Rowan Ashivel, the Emperor’s aide, who looked very overworked, holding a familiar golden envelope.

"Master Julian," Rowan called out, his voice devoid of warmth and sounding more tired. "His Majesty has requested that today’s lesson be moved to the ’Solvar’. He wishes to personally oversee the ’progress’ of his children."

Julian’s breath hitched, and he felt Lucius’s small hand find his own, squeezing tight.

He looked down at the boy. He wasn’t scared, but wasn’t happy either. Despite the unconditional favorability the Emperor showed Lucius, it looked like Lucius wasn’t very comfortable with him yet.

And that aside, why the ’Solvar’?

The Solvar wasn’t a classroom; it was the Emperor’s private sanctuary—a place where the walls were made of glass. It was an open space, similar to a greenhouse, but it was very much a place for hosting small tea gatherings.

Just what is the Emperor thinking?

Julian knew he would pull a stunt, but for him to pull ’this’ stunt, he was too much. But there was nothing to be done either. They just had to go along with the arrangement.

"Very well," Julian said. "Lead the way,"

But just as they were about to head in, the aide handed Julian the envelope.

"What is this?" Julian asked.

"It’s an invitation," Rowan said, and Kaelen stiffened behind them. Rowan seemed to notice, and as he looked at the Knight, he felt something unexplainable. It had nothing to do with his tired state, by the way, but the knight had definitely caught his eye.

"An invitation to what?" Julian asked, looking genuinely puzzled, and Rowan was going to answer when he realized what the Emperor ’said’ had come to pass. The new Royal Tutor didn’t know what the invitation was, despite the fact that a similar one had been sent to the Duke’s manor.

"You shall open it when you meet the Emperor later," he said and turned, his gaze lingering on the knight for a second too long, and then led the way. "Follow me. I shall take you to the Solvar,"

The walk to the Solvar was rather unnerving, and the rhythmic clanking of the knights’ armour as they escorted from behind did not help to ease that tension.

Julian held the envelope tight in his grasp, wondering just what could be in the invitation. He hoped it wasn’t an invitation to a dangerous hunt like the last time. If it were, he would respectfully and disrespectfully, if he had to, decline.

As they approached the massive crystalline doors of the Solvar, the air grew humid and sweet with the scent of exotic blooms. It was a masterpiece of architecture—glass walls that offered no privacy, making one feel like a specimen pinned to a board.

This place looked similar to the forbidden garden, only the forbidden garden was lush with rare magical herbs disguised as ordinary rare flowers.

Inside the dome, the light was blindingly bright. Aurelian was already there, reclined on a low chaise lounge with a casual elegance that belied his lethal nature. He was draped in white silks that caught the sun, his golden hair shimmering. Near him, Liora and Cassian sat at a small table, looking uncharacteristically stiff.

This was probably how they were in their father’s presence.

Julian took in one deep breath, ready to face the battle set before him.

The Emperor noticed the presence of several approaching his sanctuary and lifted his gaze. His gaze skipped over Julian entirely at first, landing instead on the small boy clutching Julian’s hand.

"Lucius," Aurelian called, his voice dripping with a genuine, honeyed warmth that he never granted his own flesh and blood. He beckoned with a white-gloved hand. "Come here. Let your Uncle see you. You look more like your father every day."