Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 206 - Two Hundred And Six

The sun was setting, casting long, bruised purple shadows across the private residence of Prince Liam. It was a secluded estate, far from the prying eyes of the main palace, nestled in a quiet forest on the edge of the capital. It was a place where business could be conducted in the dark, away from the court’s judgment.

Inside the main hall, the air was cool and tense. The stone floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the flickering light of the torches on the walls. Two royal guards stood like statues by the heavy oak door, their faces impassive, their hands resting heavily on the hilts of their swords.

Prince Liam sat in a high-backed chair at the far end of the room. He looked bored. He held a small, sharp dagger in his hand, flipping it idly. The blade caught the torchlight, flashing silver gleams.

Kneeling on the floor in front of him, looking small and insignificant in the vast room, was Carlos.

Carlos was a mess. His clothes, once fine silk, were worn and stained with the grey dust of the labor camp. His face was gaunt, his cheeks hollow, and his hands were rough and calloused. But his eyes... his eyes were bright with desperation and a renewed, frantic ambition. He had escaped the mines. He had bribed a guard with the last of his hidden coins. He had walked a long distance just to get here, to the one man Ashlyn had promised would save him.

"So many seek my patronage," Liam said, his voice smooth and disinterested. He didn’t look at Carlos. He watched the dagger spin in his hand, mesmerizing and deadly. "Merchants wanting lower taxes. Nobles wanting land. Soldiers wanting glory. Everyone wants a piece of the future King."

He stopped the dagger, gripping the hilt tight. He looked down at the man on the floor.

"What makes you worthy of my notice?" Liam asked. His voice was cold. "You are a disgraced second son. You were banished by your own grandmother. You have no money. You have no title. You are a fugitive from your own family."

Carlos swallowed hard. His throat was dry. He felt small under the Prince’s gaze. But he remembered Ashlyn’s words in the dark bedroom. "You became his trusted man. His right hand."

He raised his head slightly.

"Since I recommended myself," Carlos said, trying to keep his voice steady, though it shook with fear. "I just naturally want to serve you, Your Highness. I have nothing left to lose. And a man with nothing to lose is a dangerous weapon. A useful weapon."

He bowed his head lower, pressing his forehead to the cold stone.

"Through fire and water," Carlos vowed, "without hesitation. I will do whatever you ask. I will go where you command. I will be your shadow."

Liam watched him. He saw the hunger in Carlos’s eyes. He saw the weakness. He saw a man who was drowning and would grab onto a blade just to stay afloat.

Liam smiled. It was a cold, cruel smile.

Without warning, Liam flicked his wrist.

Thwip.

The dagger flew through the air.

It was a blur of steel. It whizzed past Carlos’s ear, so close he felt the wind of its passing, a sharp, cold breath.

Thunk.

The blade buried itself deep into the wooden floorboards directly behind Carlos, vibrating with the force of the throw.

Carlos flinched violently. He gasped, his body jerking in terror. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting pain, expecting death.

He felt a sharp sting on his cheek.

He reached up with a trembling hand. He touched his face. His fingers came away wet and sticky.

He looked at his hand. It was red. Blood.

He turned his head slowly, looking back. He saw the dagger standing upright in the wood, quivering. He realized it had nicked him. Just a scratch. A warning. A demonstration of precision.

He looked back at Liam, his heart pounding against his ribs like a hammer, his breath coming in short, terrified gasps.

Liam stood up. He walked toward Carlos, his movements fluid and graceful, like a cat stalking a mouse.

"You didn’t run," Liam observed, sounding mildly amused. "You flinched, but you stayed on your knees. Most men would have scrambled away."

He stopped in front of Carlos. He looked down at him.

"In that case," Liam said, "I will give you a chance to prove yourself. I have a use for a man who is desperate. A man who has been cast out."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He held it out.

"Consider this," Liam continued, his voice low, "your letter of allegiance."

Carlos looked at the paper. He took it with shaking hands. It felt heavy, like a sentence.

"What is it, Your Highness?" Carlos asked.

"A task," Liam said. "A simple task. But one that requires... discretion. And a lack of morals. If you do this, I’ll consider you."

Carlos smiled. It was a relieved, pathetic smile. His body was still shaking from fear, but hope was blooming in his chest.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Carlos whispered. "I will not fail you. I swear it."

He clutched the paper to his chest as if it were gold.

"Could what Ashlyn said be true?" Carlos thought, his mind racing. "That Prince Liam will be my backer? That I was destined for this? She was right. She knew."

He looked at the Prince, who was now walking away, dismissing him, bored with the game.

"No wonder it was too easy," Carlos thought. "Fate is finally on my side. I will rise again. And when I do, I will make them all pay."

He stood up, his legs wobbly. He bowed to the Prince’s back.

"Go," Liam said without turning around. "And do not come back until it is done."

Carlos nodded. He turned and hurried out of the room, clutching his orders, ready to do anything to climb back to the top.

Liam listened to the footsteps fade. He walked to the dagger stuck in the floor. He pulled it out with a smooth motion.

He wiped the small speck of Carlos’s blood from the blade with his thumb.

"A desperate dog," Liam murmured to himself, "is the easiest to train. And the easiest to put down when he bites."