Chapter Text
The scent of foreign spice still clung faintly to Xiao’s sleeves as he stepped through the grand archway of the palace. After three weeks abroad negotiating peace talks with a neighboring territory, the cold familiarity of home should have brought comfort. But instead, it greeted him like a stranger.
Something was wrong.
The hall was silent.
No boots shifting against marble. No familiar voices murmuring protocol. The guards who usually greeted his return with stiff salutes and bowed heads were absent. Not a single armored figure flanked the walls. Even the ever-watchful Captain Wei, who never left his post at the central stairway, was nowhere to be found.
Xiao’s sharp gaze swept across the polished floors and arched windows, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d returned at the wrong hour.
Then he saw him.
A lone figure stood at the base of the staircase, arms crossed, shoulders relaxed as if the palace belonged to him. He was clothed in layers of deep indigo and black, his coat edged in silver threading that shimmered faintly with each shift of candlelight. His boots were clean but worn, his gloves fingerless, revealing the faint shimmer of calluses along each knuckle.
But it was the blindfold that drew Xiao’s eyes.
A sleek strip of silk, pitch black and stitched with thread like glimmering stars, wrapped tightly around the upper half of his face. It was seamless. Elegant. Almost ceremonial. Xiao stared.
The man turned his head toward him—not fumbling, not disoriented, but with eerie precision.
And smiled.
It was a slow, practiced thing. Lips curling with the confidence of someone who had already won a game Xiao hadn’t even agreed to play.
Xiao’s steps echoed through the marble as he approached. “Where are my guards?”
“Dismissed,” came the smooth reply. The man’s voice was low, rich, almost amused.
Xiao narrowed his eyes. “Dismissed by whom?”
“By your court,” the man replied, dipping into a shallow, lazy bow. “Effective immediately. I’m your new bodyguard.”
Xiao stopped three paces away. “Is this a joke?”
“Not unless your life is.” That smile again. Too calm. Too certain.
Xiao stared at the black silk wrapped around his eyes. “And you expect to guard me like that?”
A faint flicker of challenge touched the man’s expression. “Oh, you’re concerned about the blindfold.”
“I'm concerned about your usefulness.” Xiao crossed his arms. “How do you plan to guard me if you can’t even see?”
Silence. Then—
The man took a single, measured step forward.
Xiao didn't move, but his shoulders tensed.
Another step. Smooth, soundless. The man closed the distance between them with uncanny grace, his movements fluid, almost feline.
“I don’t need eyes to know where danger lies,” he murmured, voice velvet-dark. “And I don’t need sight to keep you alive.”
Xiao’s breath caught.
The man stopped just short of touching him. Though his eyes were hidden, Xiao could feel the exactness of his gaze—like it was burning through the blindfold. Or through Xiao himself.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispered.
Xiao froze.
The man tilted his head. “It’s fast.”
A beat.
Xiao snapped, “Who are you?”
“Scaramouche,” came the reply, elegant and self-assured. “Though if it makes you feel safer, you may call me whatever you like. I answer only to you now.”
Xiao’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t authorize this.”
“You didn’t have to. Your council made the arrangements.” Scaramouche turned his face toward the windows, as if observing the view despite the darkness over his eyes. “Apparently, they’ve grown tired of your guards failing.”
Xiao flinched. That was a low blow. Accurate, but still low.
Scaramouche faced him again. “I’m told you’re difficult. Disobedient. Uncooperative.”
“I’m told the same about you,” Xiao replied coolly.
A flicker of amusement crossed Scaramouche’s lips. “Then we’ll get along perfectly.”
Xiao turned to leave, brushing past him. But Scaramouche’s next words halted him mid-step.
“Try not to get too attached, little prince.”
Xiao froze.
He looked back over his shoulder, expression cold. “If you ever call me that again, I’ll have you removed.”
“You can try,” Scaramouche said, tipping his head with exaggerated grace. “But I think you’ll find I’m rather...irreplaceable. Try to not get too attached, little prince.”
The prince said nothing, just narrowed his eyes before striding down the corridor toward his chambers, boots clicking like thunder on polished stone.
He didn’t look back.
But the whole way, he could feel Scaramouche’s presence at his back.
Silent.
Precise.
Too close.
And behind his ribs, Xiao’s heart still beat too fast.