novelraw Chapter 245 — Anonymous Letter
Chapter 245 — Anonymous Letter
Darkness spread across the sky, lights flickering in every corner of the building. The curtains of the room weren’t covering the large windows, and small flakes were falling outside.
A few servants had already begun preparing to clean the white flakes that would soon drape the paved roads.
Rihaan was seated in his study, documents scattered across the desk, paying no attention to his surroundings.
It was unlike him—he always insisted on keeping his documents neatly arranged so he wouldn’t need to search for anything for hours. But tonight, every rule he had followed all his life seemed to be crumbling.
Including the one stating that he would marry only for love. Not for politics.
He had such marriages—and they always resulted in failures.
The faint sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. The door opened, and his gaze flickered upward.
"Why haven’t you called for me? I would have come to see you myself," Rihaan said as he rose from his chair with a low thud, bowing to greet his father, his left arm pressed against his chest.
With a low hmph, the elderly man sat in the nearest chair.
"At least you still have some manners," he muttered before he began, gaze shifting toward the tall man. "Why are you throwing a tantrum?"
"Tantrum?" Rihaan frowned, genuinely taken aback. "Wanting to marry someone I love is a tantrum to you, Your Majesty?" he asked, voice pressed tight beneath his lips.
"You must have been bewitched by that man!" the King of Divraat shouted, losing his composure. He had come to put sense into his eldest son’s mind, but it seemed Rihaan still wasn’t ready to hear a single word against his so-called lover.
"Why haven’t you brought him?" Rihaan asked, ignoring his father’s accusations, too focused on his own turmoil.
"Hah! What do you take me for? I haven’t lost my mind enough to let that damned slave come near any of my sons! Much less during your engagement."
"Engagement this. Engagement that. I told you—I don’t want to marry Crown Prince Soren!" Rihaan’s voice cracked despite the control he tried to maintain. "Why don’t you understand?!"
His father scoffed, leaning back as if the very argument was a waste of his time.
"For a man born to marry for politics, you dream far too much. Why can’t you be more like the Imperial Prince? At least he knows what is best for his empire." His eyes hardened. "If only you cared even half as much for your kingdom..."
Rihaan’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling at his sides.
"We don’t need them," he said, the words low and steady. "You are blinded by power, Father."
The king slammed his cane against the floor, the sharp sound cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Blinded? I am the only one who sees what stands before us! Divraat is cornered—our borders are shrinking, our allies few. A marriage to the crown prince is the only way to ensure this kingdom survives!"
Rihaan took a step forward, his hip brushing against the wooden desk, his voice trembling with suppressed fury.
"I will not trade my life away for a future built on compromise. I will not marry a man I do not love."
"Love?" His father spat the word as if it disgusted him. "You speak as if love were something you were born to have. You are a prince—your happiness is irrelevant. The purpose of your very existence is to bring happiness to our country."
Rihaan bit the inside of his cheek, pain flickering behind his calm exterior.
"Then why did you have children at all," he whispered, "if not to let them live?"
The king’s expression didn’t change for even a moment—utterly unreadable.
"Power isn’t meant to be kept by one person forever. It needs to be passed on, and so does the throne." He rose from the chair and headed toward the exit.
His steps faltered at the threshold. There was too much silence. Usually, Rihaan would have thrown a far bigger tantrum.
He turned, finding the man frozen in place as if a spell had been cast on him.
"Get ready for your engagement. Your mother and brother will be coming only when the wedding date has been finalized."
Having said so, he exited the hall.
The door had barely closed behind the king when another, softer sound reached Rihaan’s ears—the faint rustle of paper sliding against stone.
He frowned, turning toward the entrance.
Nothing.
Then he lowered his gaze.
A small envelope lay on the floor, pushed in through the narrow opening beneath the door.
"What is this?" he mumbled, curious.
When he opened the letter, his eyes widened. He knew that handwriting. The clumsy strokes, the slightly uneven curve of the letters. He was the one who had taught the owner of this writing.
His fingers trembled, the paper crumbling under their pressure.
No seal.
No name.
Only his own written in a way that stabbed straight into his chest at the top of the paper.
Then the message followed:
[Your Highness...
Did I make a mistake by loving you?
Why is it that no one will ever acknowledge us?
Should I just... give up?]
Rihaan’s breath hitched.
He read the words twice. Three times. Each time the meaning was carved deeper.
He staggered backward until the desk caught the back of his knees. The letter slipped slightly in his grasp, the paper crumbling further under the pressure of his shaking hands.
He... never said these things. He said he’d fight the world for their love. Like I am. So why?..
Something was wrong.
Something was terribly, painfully wrong.
"Who brought this?" Rihaan demanded, his voice cutting through the silent room as he rushed to the door and pulled it open.
The hallway was empty.
No guards.
No servants.
No sign of anyone.
As if the letter had appeared out of thin air—perhaps magic.
A slow chill crept across his spine.
The king’s words echoed again, "Hah! I haven’t lost my mind enough to let that damned slave come near any of my sons."
Rihaan crushed the letter in his fist.
No.
No, the man he loved wouldn’t write this. He wouldn’t give up on their love.
Out of all people. Not him.
Someone was playing with him. Someone wanted to shake him, scare him, threaten him... and perhaps take his life.
His pulse quickened. He turned on his heel, snatching his cloak from the back of a chair.
"Your Highness?" The guard at the far end of the corridor stepped forward, startled. "Where are you going?"
Rihaan didn’t slow, nor did he look back.
"To find him," he said, his voice shaky under the weight of his uneven breath. "What does he think? That I wouldn’t find him?" he added. "He underestimates me."
Snow hit his face as he pushed the palace doors open.
The fake letter burned in his palm.
"Get my horse!" he ordered.
The guards exchanged an uneasy glance.
"But the king said—"
"Do as I say!"
The guards flinched, lowering their heads. It wasn’t like they had much of a choice. It was either get scolded by the crown prince of Divraat or the king of Divraat.
One of the guards returned with a horse within a few minutes, his breath heavy. Faint smoke curled into the air every time he exhaled.
Rihaan mounted the animal and urged it forward. The wind brushed against his hair—he hadn’t even worn a hat before leaving the building. The cold breeze tugged at his cloak as he pushed through the falling snow.
The palace lights disappeared behind him as he rode straight into darkness, without a care for his own safety. The only thing he could think of was his lover—who was in danger.
He leaned forward, jaw tight.
"Just hold on," he whispered, breath fogging the air. "I’m coming."
The road narrowed into a path lined with bare trees. Snow clung to their branches, the weight making them bow like obedient servants. His horse snorted, uneasy, its ears twitching.
Rihaan frowned. His gaze darted back and forth, trying to understand why the animal was behaving this way.
A faint sound—too sharp to be wind—cut through the stillness. Large trees hovered above him, looming as if the forest itself could swallow him whole.
Rihaan slowed. The horse tossed its head, restless.
"Easy," Rihaan murmured, though his own pulse had begun to pound unevenly.
Another sound.
He inhaled sharply and pulled the reins—
A shadow detached itself from the trees. Then another. And another. Figures emerging soundlessly, surrounding the path as if the forest had spat them out.
Rihaan’s throat turned dry.
"Who are you?" His voice came out low, guarded.
No one answered.
An arrow struck the ground inches from his horse’s hooves. The animal reared with a panicked cry. Rihaan clung to the reins, but it was already too late—
The trees tilted, and he lost his balance, hitting the ground hard. For a moment, all he could see were the dark trunks rising above him.
He almost laughed—but the sharp, pained cries of his horse cut the sound in his throat.
He pushed himself up at once, hurrying toward the animal.
"Shh... what’s wrong?" he murmured, running a steady hand along its trembling neck.
As he checked the horse, his breath caught. An arrow was lodged deep in its leg. And yet, for an injured creature, it stood surprisingly still—as if trying not to worry him.
"Damn it! Who’s here?!" he shouted, voice echoing in the forest.