“You can’t charm your way out of duty forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face it.”
Just then, a group of courtiers swept past, polished boots striking sharp against the cobblestones. Their strides were brisk, voices low but urgent, a current of anticipation threading through their movements.
Leaning forward, Kaelen’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think that’s about?”
“You don’t remember?”
“What?”
“The tournament.” Alarik tore a piece of warm bread in half. “The Aethonian king is hosting a competition to find an Alpha husband for the princess.”
He blinked, the memory stirring faintly. “Oh. That.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “IthinkI remember Father mentioning it in one of the meetings.”
His brother’s mouth twitched, not quite a smirk. “He also declined the invitation. Something about prioritizing alliances elsewhere.”
Kaelen heaved an exaggerated sigh, well aware that ‘prioritizing alliances elsewhere’ was simply a refined way of saying his future had already been decided. Their father had made no secret of his plans. His son’s marriage would be a tool, a carefully placed piece in the ever-turning wheels of diplomacy.
Resting his chin on his hand, he muttered, “How utterly dull.”
“Diplomacy tends to be, but it’s also necessary.”
His gaze drifted to the palace perched on the hill, its white spires catching the sunlight. For a moment, he simply stared, its grandeur astark reminder of the world they were born to navigate—a world of alliances, expectations, and endless responsibilities.
Restlessness prickled beneath his skin, the thought of continuing their journey and fulfilling his duty growing less appealing by the minute.
An idea sparked.
Could he not use this opportunity to carve out a moment for himself, a chance to step outside the shadow of obligation, even briefly?
He turned to his companion, a slow, sly smile tugging at his lips. Alarik’s steadiness was constant, but he wondered if, just once more, he could pull his brother into a little chaos.
Alarik saw the look and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”
Kaelen sat back, grinning. “Come on, brother. We’re already here. Why not enter the tournament?”
“Because Father declined.”
“Father isn’t here. Itcouldbe fun.”
“Your idea of fun usually ends with someone nursing a broken limb.”
“You worry too much.”
“It’s my job to worry, because you never do.”
Kaelen leaned forward, his voice softer now. “A healthy competition, a harmless excitement. When was the last time we did something that wasn’t for the kingdom?”
Alarik stared at him, the weight of his responsibilities evident in the hard lines of his face. But Kaelen knew him well enough to see the moment interest crept in.
With a sigh, his brother shook his head, long fingers raking through his black hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
He laughed, striking the tabletop with his palm. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Nymaris spilled across the hillside like scattered pearls, its whitewashed walls glowing beneath the afternoon sun, shutters and doors kissed with soft blues and greens. Cobbled paths wove upward, threading through bursts of colour—terraces draped in ivy, awnings stretched wide to shelter market stalls—until they reached the palace perched high above it all. Its alabaster towers gleamed, watchful over the port below, where ships rocked lazily on the shimmering sea.
The wind whispered through the streets, tugging at Kaelen’s hair. Seabirds wheeled overhead, their cries swallowed by the city’s steady pulse. The crowd swelled around him, a tide drawn toward the palace gates. Excitement crackled, vibrant and contagious, thrumming beneath his skin.
A name drifted past, woven through conversations like the refrain of an old song: Princess Reiyana Elidris—the Pearl of Aethonia. Her people spoke it with an easy fondness, slipping it into idle chatter as if she were more than a sovereign—someone cherished, someone beloved.