Reza flinched. “You always speak in riddles.”
The story had only just begun.
But the truth was sharper.
And that was the heart of it. The Rogue Prince wasn't a rebel for chaos. He was a rebel because he could not pretend the empire wasn't rotting from its gilded corners.
They would hunt him, of course. They would call him traitor, madman, viper. But in the alleys below, a street child looked up and saw a figure silhouetted against the stars—a figure who had once paid off her mother’s debt with a sapphire the size of an egg. The Rogue Prince of Persia
Reza’s face hardened. “You threaten treason?”
“It also revealed your contempt.”
“Come back to the palace,” Reza said quietly. “Father will forgive the… the fire in the astronomy tower.”
And somewhere in the darkness, Cyrus smiled. The threads of fate shivered. He pulled one. Reza flinched