"So what now?" Gregory asked, keeping his voice low as they trotted along the road, periodically glancing back to ensure they weren't being followed. The morning sun cast long shadows across the countryside, and a light mist hung over the fields. "Those men back there... were they really your father's soldiers?"
Bryce's jaw tightened as he stared straight ahead. "Possibly. But that doesn't mean they were acting on my father's orders."
"I don't understand."
The prince sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. "There's much about court politics you don't know, Gregory. I'm not... particularly beloved among the nobility."
Gregory raised an eyebrow. "But you're the crown prince."
"And that's precisely why certain factions see me as a threat." Bryce slowed his horse, allowing Gregory to ride alongside him. "There have been whispers for years. Suspicions."
"About your magic," Gregory said quietly.
Bryce nodded grimly. "I've never used it openly, but there have been... incidents. Unexplainable things. A fall that should have killed me. A fever that vanished overnight. People notice such things, especially at court where gossip is currency."
"But surely they can't prove anything?"
"They don't need proof. Only suspicion." Bryce's voice hardened. "Magic users are reviled in Comer, Gregory. The punishment is death. Even for a prince."
Gregory felt a chill run down his spine despite the warming day. "And you think some of these nobles would use this opportunity to turn against your family?"
"I know they would," Bryce replied. "My father's rule has not been kind to certain powerful houses. They've been waiting for any excuse to undermine him. My disappearance... it would be the perfect opportunity."
They rode in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The road stretched before them, winding through rolling farmland. In the distance, a small village came into view, smoke rising lazily from chimneys.
"We should stop there," Gregory suggested. "Get supplies, maybe gather some information about what's happening in the capital."
Bryce hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But we keep our heads down. No unnecessary conversations."
As they approached the village, Gregory noticed something odd. The fields they passed were overgrown, many clearly unharvested. Several farmhouses along the way appeared abandoned, their doors hanging open and livestock nowhere to be seen.
"Something's wrong," he murmured to Bryce, who nodded tightly.
The village itself was quiet—too quiet for midday. A few people moved about the central square, but they walked with a wariness that set Gregory on edge. An old man sat outside what appeared to be a tavern, whittling a piece of wood with meticulous care.
They dismounted, leading their horses to a water trough. Gregory approached the old man, adopting a casual demeanor.
"Good day," he said pleasantly. "My friend and I have been traveling for some time. Might I ask what news there is from the capital?"
The old man looked up, his rheumy eyes assessing Gregory. "Capital?" he repeated, his voice creaking like old leather. "Same as it's been. King holes up in his palace, barely shows his face. Queen never leaves at all, they say."
Gregory exchanged a quick glance with Bryce, who had moved closer to listen. "I heard there was some trouble with the prince," Gregory ventured carefully.
The old man snorted. "Prince? Been gone near a year now. Dead, most like, though the royal family won't admit it."
Gregory felt as if the ground had dropped out from beneath him. "A year?" he repeated, struggling to keep his voice steady.
"Aye," the old man said, returning to his whittling. "Disappeared last summer. Some say taken by the Otagin, others say he fled after quarreling with his father. Either way, he's long gone."
Gregory looked at Bryce, whose face had gone deathly pale. They moved away from the old man, leading their horses to a secluded corner of the square.
"A year?" Gregory whispered once they were alone. "How is that possible? We've only been gone a few days."
Bryce's hands trembled slightly as he gripped his horse's reins. "The desert," he said, his voice barely audible. "That wasn't a natural place. The way time seemed to stretch and contract... I felt it, but I didn't understand."
"You think we lost nearly a year in that desert?"
"Not lost," Bryce said, his eyes focusing on something distant. "I think time was taken from us. Deliberately."
Gregory's blood ran cold. "But who would have that kind of power? And why?"
"Someone who wants me gone," Bryce said grimly. "Someone using powerful magic to ensure I never return to claim my birthright."
"But that would mean..."
"Yes," Bryce cut him off. "Someone close to the throne. Someone who stands to gain from my permanent disappearance."
Gregory's mind raced with the implications. A year gone. The kingdom in disarray. The king withdrawn. And someone with access to immense magical power orchestrating it all.
"We need to get to the capital," Gregory said. "Immediately."
Bryce nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. "Yes. But we must be careful. If someone went to such lengths to remove me, they won't hesitate to kill me—kill us both—if they discover I've returned."
As they mounted their horses once more, Gregory couldn't shake a growing sense of dread. They were riding straight into the heart of a conspiracy far more dangerous than anything he could have imagined.
What had he gotten himself into?
