"My mother used to say that the future is like a garden," he says softly. "You can choose which seeds to plant, but you never know exactly how they'll grow. Sometimes the smallest flower can change the whole look of the place."
Cael's words echo in my ears like a song that plays on repeat, each note hitting deeper than the last. After days of weighing every possibility, every risk and reward, I've finally made my choice.
I will live the life that was not mine but was given to me—peacefully, as Prince Vernom was meant to. I will not chase after the throne or fight for power I never wanted. But I will not stand idly by and let this kingdom fall into the hands of my former homeland either.
I will be the seed that sprouts change in that harsh, unforgiving land.
It's been a few days since the council meeting, and I'm slowly finding my footing in this new life. I can't say I fully grasp what it means to be Prince Vernom, but I can say with certainty that all my assumptions—and everything I'd heard about him during my time in the military—were completely wrong.
First, the one thing that was true: Prince Vernom did spend most of his time in the gardens. In the past few days, I've discovered why. There's a quiet peace here that I never knew existed—standing among the blooming flowers, feeling the sun on my skin, breathing in the scent of roses and jasmine. It's become my own refuge too, a place where I can think clearly without the weight of battle or politics pressing down on me. Sometimes I find myself sitting by the man-made pond at the back of my palace, watching the fish swim lazily beneath the surface, and for a moment, I can almost forget who I was before.
But everything else I'd been told about him was false.
The rumors said he was overlooked and weak—but during that council meeting, I was surprised to find that the nobles and royal family openly listened to my opinion, as if it was nothing new for me to speak up. They treated my words with respect, asking questions and considering my ideas seriously. It turns out Vernom had always been quiet, but never silent—he'd simply chosen his moments carefully, observing more than he spoke, thinking through every word before it left his lips.
And his father—King Theron—is no tyrant. Unlike the ruler of Custodian, who ruled through fear and force, this king leads with wisdom and compassion. I've since learned that he makes time to meet with each of his children regularly, asking about their lives, their concerns, their dreams for the kingdom.
Perhaps most surprising of all is the bond between the royal siblings. There are twelve princes and princesses in total, born to the king and his concubines—and there is no rivalry between them. Instead, they gather often for meals and discussions, supporting one another in their duties. The concubines are close friends who look out for each other and all the children, and even the queen treats every one of the king's sons as if they were her own—including me, and even the crown prince Vonce, who shares her blood.
Yesterday, I joined them for dinner in the main palace. Vonce clapped me on the shoulder when I arrived, asking how my preparations for the mission were going. Princess Lina, the youngest at fifteen, pulled me aside to show me sketches of new garden designs she'd made, knowing how much I enjoyed spending time among the plants. Even the king's second concubine, who raised three of my siblings, pressed extra food onto my plate with a warm smile, saying I looked too thin.
It's strange—growing up in the slums of Custodian, then spending years in the army where every man was for himself, I never imagined a family like this could exist. Where power doesn't breed jealousy, where status doesn't create distance, where love and care extend to everyone under the same roof.
As I sit by the pond now, running my fingers through the cool water, I realize that Vernom didn't hide away in his garden because he was weak. He came here to recharge, to find clarity, to remember what was truly important in a world that often forgets. It's an old habit I'm glad to have inherited.
And as I plan for the work ahead—planting seeds of hope in the harsh soil of my homeland—I know that this new family, this peaceful kingdom, will be my strength. They've shown me that there's more to ruling than power and conquest, more to life than survival and struggle.
Cael approaches quietly, holding a tray with tea and fresh pastries. "Your Highness," he says softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. "Prince Vonce sent word—he's found some merchants who might be willing to help with our plan. They'll be arriving at the palace tomorrow."
I stand up, brushing dirt from my clothes, feeling more like myself than I have since waking up in this body. Not just a soldier, not just a prince—but someone who has been given a second chance to grow into something better.
"Then let's be ready," I say, looking out at the garden that has become my sanctuary. "It's time to start planting those seeds."