Help! Get Me Out of My Sister's Chapter 309: ’Stormwing and Darkthorn’

As per custom, the first carriage to arrive would be the first to disembark, while the second remained still—its passengers waiting patiently until the forr had cleared the grounds.

Two butlers stood rigidly by the Stormwing carriage, each positioned with precision, awaiting the signal to open the door. Their uniforms were immaculate, the family crest of the Stormwings—an obsidian hawk with lightning-shaped wings—emblazoned proudly on their chest.

The first two princesses, Mira and Bridget, stepped forward with delicate grace. Their soft silks fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze, a whisper of movent against the formal stillness of the mont.

"Presenting His Grace, Duke Roland Stormwing, and his son, Lord Rodrick Stormwing," the elder butler proclaid, his voice deep and clear across the courtyard.

The carriage door creaked open smoothly, revealing first a man in his fifties. He descended with practiced poise, his smile wide and warm, the kind that could disarm a room.

His pale pink hair, though dusted with age at the roots, remained thick, and his steel-gray eyes scanned the welcoming party with a spark of familiarity.

Following him was a young man, perhaps Florian’s age—if not a year older. Rodrick stepped down with asured grace, posture noble yet relaxed.

His pink hair, a few shades deeper than his father’s, shimred faintly under the sunlight. But what caught Florian’s attention was his eyes—pure white, almost luminescent. They were unsettlingly beautiful.

Yet Florian’s gaze shifted instinctively, landing on the tall, composed figure beside him.

’Not as handso as Heinz.’

The thought struck like a stone tossed into still water, and Florian’s eyes widened the slightest bit in realization.

’Oh gods... Did I really just think that?’

He forced his expression to remain untouched, biting back the urge to grimace or glance away, and instead walked forward beside Heinz with a polished smile carefully placed upon his lips.

"Welco back to the Diamond Palace, Lord Stormwing, and Rodrick," Heinz greeted with formal ease. "It’s been quite so ti."

Roland and Rodrick both offered deep bows, hands folded respectfully at their stomachs.

"Thank you for inviting us, Your Majesty. Indeed, it has been far too long," Rodrick answered, his tone smooth and practiced.

"And how long I’ve waited for you to host a summit," Roland added with a chuckle, before turning toward Florian. His eyes glead with interest. "Ah... and this must be Prince Florian, your representative. It is a pleasure to finally et you. I wasn’t able to see you in during the ball in your honor."

’That’s because I had to go early.’

Florian bowed his head gracefully, the kind of movent honed through years of court etiquette.

"The honor is mine, Duke Roland—and of course, Lord Rodrick." He smiled politely at Rodrick, whose ears turned a soft shade of pink the mont their eyes t.

Of course.

Florian was used to that reaction. It was easier to ignore it than dwell.

Just then, Bridget and Mira stepped forward in perfect unison, raising their bouquets to offer them to the duke and his son.

"Welco, Duke Stormwing and Lord Stormwing," Mira said, her voice smooth and respectful. "Please accept this small gift as a token of the Diamond Palace’s hospitality."

The two n accepted the flowers with gracious smiles.

"These are lovely," Roland said, inhaling the scent with appreciation. He turned to the princesses with a twinkle in his eye. "And it is always wonderful to see you two again—more radiant than ever, if I may say so."

He then gave a dramatic sigh and added, "Oh, how I wish my son would finally find soone as lovely as your princesses, Your Majesty."

"Father..." Rodrick muttered, his brow furrowing in quiet embarrassnt. "That might be rude to His Majesty..."

"No, no, it’s fine," Heinz said, waving the comnt off. There was a glint in his crimson eyes, the barest trace of amusent. "It’s understandable. I do have the finest princesses..."

He paused, only a heartbeat, but it hung heavily in the air.

"...and prince."

Florian blinked.

Even Roland and Rodrick looked montarily caught off guard—before the duke broke into a booming laugh, waving it off as harmless jest.

"Right you are, Your Majesty!" Roland said. "Now, shall we head inside? That old bastard Alaric will throw one of his fits if I keep him waiting much longer."

Delilah, standing nearby in her formal attire, finally stepped forward.

"Of course. This way, Your Graces," she said, voice cool and clear. "I shall escort you to the waiting room."

With nods of thanks, the duke and his son followed her lead. As Rodrick passed by Florian, he cast a sidelong glance and offered a small, charming smile.

Florian arched a brow subtly, lips curling into a faint smirk.

Interesting.

Once the pair disappeared into the palace, the Stormwing carriage rolled away smoothly, allowing the next carriage in line to move forward with an ominous creak of its wheels.

Florian’s eyes narrowed slightly as the new arrival ca into view.

’Ugh. It’s Alaric.’

As soon as the obsidian-black Darkthorn carriage rolled to a halt before them, Florian imdiately noticed the subtle shift in the air.

The servants who accompanied the vehicle moved hastily, their hands twitching with barely contained nerves. They whispered among themselves, adjusting their collars and gloves with visible urgency.

’Oh. I guess Roland was right... Alaric must be losing patience.’ Florian thought, narrowing his eyes as he observed the butlers’ anxious glances.

One of the butlers stepped forward briskly and, with a bow, announced in a firm voice, "Presenting, His Grace Duke Alaric Darkthorn, and Lord Lucas Darkthorn."

The door was opened without delay.

Alaric Darkthorn erged at once, his movents sharp and brisk, like soone who found everything around him a chore.

He tugged irritably at the collar of his coat as he descended from the carriage, a permanent scowl carved into his face like a scar. He didn’t glance at Heinz. He didn’t even glance at Florian.

He simply existed—imposing, cold, and impossibly distant.

Florian had seen plenty of cold expressions before, but sothing about Alaric’s scowl made his stomach twist. There was nothing theatrical about it. No bitterness or drama.

Just sheer, unfiltered disdain.

But what made Florian’s eyes widen wasn’t Alaric.

It was the young man who stepped out behind him.

Lucas Darkthorn.

He was tall, with the sa elegant fra and silver-starched posture as his father, but where Alaric was steel and shadows, Lucas was... light.

White hair that shimred like moonlight, and striking yellow eyes that mirrored Lucius’s so precisely that it made Florian’s breath catch.

’He looks... exactly like an older version of Lucius. What the fuck are their genes?’ Florian blinked rapidly, quickly lowering his head into a bow. ’Seriously, were they engineered in a lab or sothing?’

He stepped forward to perform his duty as host. "Welco, Duke—"

"Let’s save the welcos," Alaric cut him off, his voice curt and grating like a blade dragged across gravel. "Just lead us to the waiting room."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

"Pardon?" Florian asked before he could stop himself, blinking in disbelief.

"Father, please," Lucas murmured, stepping closer and lowering his voice. He quickly bowed, his tone respectful and composed. "Apologies, Your Majesty. Prince Florian. We’ve traveled quite a distance. My father is... weary."

"It does seem like it," Heinz said coolly, his tone laced with unspoken irritation. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t press the issue.

Still, Florian couldn’t help but feel the tension surge beside him like a wave about to break.

’Where does he get the nerve to talk to Heinz like that?’ Florian wondered, flicking his gaze toward the King. ’Even at the ball, he didn’t speak out of line. But now?’

Behind them, the princesses Camilla and Scarlett, who had been ready to offer their bouquets, hesitated awkwardly. They were forced to step aside as Alaric brushed past them without even sparing a glance.

Lucius followed silently behind his father, his expression unreadable as Delilah, looking confused, stepped out of the palace.

Lucas, however, stayed behind. His head remained bowed.

"I truly apologize, King Heinz. Prince Florian," he said, voice low but sincere. "I will speak with my father. He will be... more sociable, I swear."

Heinz didn’t respond imdiately, his expression carved in stone. The air between them grew heavier.

Seeing the building tension, Florian quickly stepped in. "It’s alright," he said gently, offering Lucas a diplomatic smile. "There’s tension in the air. It’s understandable. You don’t need to apologize."

Lucas lifted his head and t Florian’s gaze, offering a grateful smile that softened his sharp features. "I appreciate your understanding, Prince Florian. I look forward to your presentation tomorrow. It is truly an honor to et you."

"Thank you. You should go in. I imagine you’d like to catch up with Lucius," Florian replied, his tone polite, but laced with curiosity.

Lucas hesitated, then glanced toward the palace. "Ah. Yes... I do hope he feels the sa though," he added, almost in a whisper.

’Huh? What does he an by that?’ Florian tilted his head slightly, watching Lucas turn away.

"Well, if you’ll excuse ," Lucas said with a final bow, straightening up before heading inside after his family.

The heavy atmosphere didn’t dissipate with his departure.

"That was... sothing," Florian muttered under his breath, looking at Heinz, whose jaw was tightly clenched and whose eyes still followed the path Alaric had taken. "Are you okay, Your Majesty?"

"I’m fine," Heinz said stiffly.

Florian frowned, unconvinced. "Are you sure? Do you want to handle the next greeting still?"

Heinz inhaled deeply and then exhaled through his nose. "No. Let do the first greetings from now on."

’Huh? Why?’ Florian blinked. ’I an, I can handle it. Did I do sothing wrong?’

Before he could say anything more, the sharp sound of iron gates opening echoed across the courtyard. Two more carriages rolled forward, both bearing distinct, elaborate emblems that shimred in the sun.

The sigils of Flaheart and Frostblade.

’No ti to dwell on it...’ Florian thought as he straightened his posture once again. ’This is only the beginning.’