Chapter 65
The sky outside the palace windows had begun to dim, streaks of deep orange brushing against indigo. The courtyard, usually bustling, was quieter now. The echoes of swords clashing and laughter had faded, leaving behind only the hushed murmur of wind and the occasional creak of old stone.
In a corner of the training yard, beneath the shadow of the high walls, Elias sat alone on a bench near the armory. A sword rested across his lap, and he slowly, methodically, ran a whetstone along the blade. The scrape was clean, even—like the only thing he could still control.
He heard the footsteps before he saw him.
Elias lifted his head, expecting a squire or a fellow knight. But it was Caven.
The young man stood a few feet away, partially in shadow, hands tucked into the deep pockets of his cloak. He looked older than he had weeks ago. Not in his face, but in his silence.
Elias rose to his feet, clearing his throat. "Caven."
Caven didn't move closer. "So… you're back with him."
Elias didn't pretend not to understand. His grip tightened on the sword for a heartbeat before he set it aside on the bench. "I told you from the start—"
"I know what you said." Caven's voice was calm, but there was something brittle in it, like cracked glass. "I just wanted you to know... I'm not angry. I don't regret anything."
There was a pause. Then, softer, "And I'm still here. Even if it's just as a friend."
Elias looked at him—really looked at him. The way his jaw was set, how he wouldn't quite meet his eyes. He stepped forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on Caven's shoulder.
"You're a good lad," Elias said. "Too good for me. And talented. Brave. But you need to think of yourself now. You deserve more than waiting on a someone who can't give you what you want."
Caven stared at the stone tiles beneath them. "So that's it?"
"I think it's best we stay apart. It'll make things easier. Safer."
Elias let his hand fall, picked up his belt and sword, and stepped away. The corridor back into the palace stretched in silence.
But before he reached it, Caven called out—his voice low, steady, but raw.
"I'll always be here if you need me. Just so you know."
Elias paused.
He didn't turn around.
He couldn't.
Then he kept walking—his boots echoing off the cold stone—leaving Caven standing in the dimming courtyard, beneath the flickering torchlight of Valla Palace.
---
The hallway of Valla Palace was quiet, save for the distant echo of hurried footsteps. Elias moved with practiced ease, the steel of his sword at his side a familiar weight. The encounter with Caven still lingered on his mind, but the palace walls offered little room for reflection.
That was when he heard it—the sound of small feet pounding the marble floor, laughter trailing behind like mischief in motion.
A little figure darted around the corner, a blur of royal blue and wild curls, running straight into Elias' legs. Elias took a steadying step back, blinking down in surprise.
"Your Highness!" one of the maids called breathlessly, rounding the corner with a flushed guard beside her. "You mustn't run around the palace like this!"
Peeking from behind Elias with a giggle was Prince Caelen, his green eyes gleaming with mirth, a mirror of the Valois lineage—those same sharp features, so unmistakably Alistair's.
Elias bent down to the boy's level, staring at him for a while, then placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "You need to listen to your elders, little prince," he said with a warm smile. "If you want to be a good king someday."
Caelen scrunched his nose and declared with childish certainty, "I don't want to be a king. I want to be a knight! Just like you! You are a knight, aren't you?"
Elias chuckled softly. "Yes, I am."
Without hesitation, Caelen reached for his hand, and Elias offered it without thought. The boy gripped it tightly. The maids exchanged surprised glances—Caelen, shy and reserved with nearly everyone outside the royal family, had taken to Elias like a spark to tinder.
Together, they walked down the corridor, the maid and guard trailing behind. When they reached the study, Elias opened the door to find Alistair seated alone at the far end, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun that streamed through the tall windows.
Elias turned to the others. "You may wait outside."
They hesitated until Alistair nodded. The door closed behind them.
Caelen squealed and sprinted across the room. "Father!"
Alistair caught him easily, lifting him into his arms. "Now who do we have here?"
The boy beamed and pointed back toward Elias. "I want to learn to fight! I want to be a knight like him! And I want him to teach me!"
Elias smiled faintly at the boy's insistence.
Alistair set Caelen on the desk, placing both hands on either side of him as he leaned closer. "He's a knight, and knights have important duties. He doesn't have time to play teacher."
"But I want him," Caelen pouted.
Elias stepped forward. "I can always find time for the young prince."
His hand touched the small of Alistair's back in a natural, unconscious gesture of affection—but Alistair immediately flinched and shifted away, as if burned. Elias froze, confused.
Caelen, oblivious, squealed, "Yes! I'm going to tell Mother!" and wiggled to the edge of the table. Alistair helped him down, and the boy ran to the door, struggling with the handle until Elias stepped over and opened it for him.
"Thank you!" the boy called out as he sprinted off, the maid and the guard once again in pursuit.
Elias closed the door slowly and turned. Alistair was already seated again, his gaze fixed on him, unreadable.
Elias stepped closer, uncertain.
"Don't ever touch me in front of Caelen," Alistair said quietly, his voice clipped but not cold.
A long pause.
"Okay," Elias replied. "I'm sorry."
Alistair sighed and looked away for a moment. Then, as if the weight of the moment shifted within him, he reached forward—not urgently, not possessively—and drew Elias to him by the waist, resting his head gently against Elias' stomach.
"I don't want Caelen to see this side of me," he murmured. "He's everything to me. You understand, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Elias said softly, forcing a small smile as he ran his fingers through Alistair's hair.
They stayed like that for a beat longer, quiet and tangled in unsaid words. Then Alistair tilted his head back, and their lips met in a soft, slow kiss. When it broke, he smiled faintly and pulled Elias into a tighter embrace.