The imperial hall thrummed with regal power—stone polished to a shine, gold-threaded banners whispering above, the scent of old incense still lingering like memory. The Emperor, seated high on his throne, wore his silence like a weapon as he surveyed the assembly of his children and court.
Prince Kael lounged with practiced arrogance at the emperor's left, while Princess Vaela, Rhalia, sat poised and unreadable. Rythe stood alone—disciplined, distant, eyes steady as iron beneath the weight of the crown that might one day be his.
Then the grand doors opened.
"Announcing Lord Calien Marvane, of House Marvane, Diplomatic Envoy to Veylos."
All eyes turned. Calien entered in deep green trimmed with silver, his posture fluid and proud. He bowed before the throne, his tone smooth as silk.
"Your Majesty. I return bearing the signed accords from the Veylosian court."
"Well done, Calien," the Emperor said, pleased. "I've read the reports. You've surpassed expectations. House Marvane should be proud."
Calien rose, his eyes flicking—just briefly—to Rythe. "It was an honor to serve, Your Majesty. Though I must say, it feels as though much has shifted during my absence."
That was all it took.
Prince Kael leaned forward with a glint in his eye. "Oh, indeed it has. Perhaps you haven't heard, but Rythe brought an assassin home. An omega, no less. One who tried to kill him."
Calien raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Kael continued with mock delight, "And what did our dear brother do in return? Why, he made the little traitor a servant. Charming, isn't it?"
A murmur swept the court—scandal and amusement mingling in hushed voices.
Still, Rythe said nothing. His face gave away nothing.
Calien tilted his head toward the Emperor. "Surely this... isn't true?"
The Emperor, reclining on his throne, gave a slow smile. "Oh, but it is."
He let the pause stretch.
"The boy went into heat, apparently. Unfortunate timing. And our noble Rythe, in all his restraint..." The Emperor's eyes glinted. "...had him tied to a tree. Rather than... indulge."
Laughter broke out in bursts across the chamber.
A courtier at the back snorted loudly. Even Keel chuckled behind his hand.
Only Rythe and Vaela remained unmoved.
Calien, however, turned his gaze fully to Rythe. For a moment, it wasn't humor in his eyes—but something harder, stranger. Then it passed, replaced by a smooth, unreadable expression.
"How... virtuous," he murmured.
The Emperor waved a hand. "No need to dwell. The matter is settled. If anything, it speaks to Rythe's brutal efficiency." He chuckled. "I doubt many alphas could do the same."
More laughter.
Aurean, hidden behind a marble column near the servant's archway, flinched—but did not move. He had been told to stay out of sight. He was good at that now.
No one saw the flicker in Rythe's eyes—an ember of fury or shame. He gave no defense, no reaction. Only silence.
And still, from the shadows, Aurean watched.
The palace was quiet in the wake of the gathering. The throne room had emptied, the echoes of laughter—particularly over Aurean's humiliation—still lingering in the air like a sour perfume.
Rythe moved down a quieter corridor, his cloak dragging lightly across the marble. His expression was tight, jaw tense. He didn't slow when he sensed footsteps behind him again.
"Twice in one day?" he muttered without turning. "You must miss me terribly, Calien."
A soft chuckle answered him. "You wound me. Can't I visit an old lover without suspicion?"
Rythe stopped.
Calien stepped forward into the golden torchlight, elegant in his formal black and silver uniform, the insignia of his family glinting at his shoulder. He looked every bit the noble son of a founding house—and every bit the man who used to share Rythe's bed and secrets.
"I must say," Calien said smoothly, "I didn't expect to return to such... delicious surprises. The Rythe I knew would never touch an omega. Let alone... tie one to a tree."
Rythe shot him a warning look, but Calien only smiled.
"Relax," he said. "I'm not here to scold you. I'm... impressed. I'd always wondered what it would take to finally break that iron restraint of yours."
"You heard the joke, not the truth."
"Did I?" Calien stepped closer, his voice low. "I saw more than you realize. The way your shoulders stiffened when they laughed. The way you refused to look at him. You didn't deny it, Rythe. Which means something happened."
Rythe said nothing.
"And I have to say," Calien went on, drawing a slow circle around Rythe, trailing one gloved finger across his shoulder, "I find it incredibly enticing. The image of you finally surrendering control. Letting instincts win."
Rythe's eyes darkened. "You mistake me for the man you used to bed."
"No," Calien whispered, stepping in front of him again, "I remember him perfectly. The one who kissed like a storm and held me like he needed no one else in the world. But now…" His voice turned softer, more intimate. "You're sharper. Rougher. Hungrier."
He leaned in, their faces inches apart. "And I can't stop wondering what you'd be like now, Rythe. After the war. After him."
Rythe's hands flexed at his sides. His body was tense—too tense. But he didn't move away.
"Tell me," Calien said, "was it good? Was he good? Or were you just desperate to taste something forbidden?"
"Enough," Rythe said, but his voice lacked weight.
"Is it guilt, then? Or shame?" Calien asked. "Because I can offer you something cleaner. No strings. Just us, like before. You don't need to explain a thing."
He touched Rythe's chest.
"You always did burn the hottest when trying not to feel."
Rythe caught Calien's wrist.
Hard. But not hard enough to hurt.
Their eyes locked.
"I'm not yours anymore," Rythe said, low and dangerous. "You had your time."
Calien smiled, not in the least deterred. "Then let me remind you what it was like."
He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly over Rythe's jaw.
And then—just as Rythe's grip tightened—there was a sound.
A soft exhale.
A shadow disappearing at the far end of the hall.
They both turned—but the corridor was empty.
Rythe let go of Calien's wrist.
He took a step back, his expression stony once more.
"This was a mistake," he said. "Good night, Calien."
Calien straightened his collar with casual grace. "You'll come around. You always do."
And with that, he turned and walked away, boots echoing through the corridor.
Rythe stood there in silence.
Haunted not by what had happened—but by what had been seen.
The night was cold, and the silence in the east wing of Rythe's quarters felt heavier than usual. The hounds, Mael and Varnak, lay near the hearth, alert despite their feigned rest. They, too, had noticed something had changed.
Rythe moved through the dim halls, steps light but firm. He hadn't seen Aurean all day.
No meals brought. No clothing set aside.
No quiet figure retreating like a shadow at the edge of his vision.
He found him not in the servant's quarters or the outer chamber where Aurean sometimes curled up with the hounds, but in the storage alcove behind the stables, seated on a worn bench, half-lit by moonlight.
Aurean didn't look up when Rythe entered. He continued sharpening one of the hounds' hunting blades, methodical, silent.
"I've called for you twice," Rythe said.
Aurean nodded once. "I heard."
"And you didn't come."
"I was occupied."
Rythe stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him. "Is that it, then? After everything—you're just going to avoid me?"
"I'm not avoiding you." The words were clipped. Calm. "I've simply learned where I'm not needed."
Rythe frowned. "That's not for you to decide."
"No, but I did anyway," Aurean murmured, setting the blade down and finally looking at him. His eyes were tired. Not red from crying—but raw in a way Rythe hadn't seen since the days after the war. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."
"Aurean—"
"I said I understand." His voice remained quiet. Measured. "Whatever happened during your rut... it doesn't bind you to anything. It didn't mean anything."
Rythe flinched slightly. "Is that what you believe?"
"It's what I need to believe," Aurean said simply. "You have your life. Your name. And now, your future. I don't intend to get in the way of that."
There was silence.
Rythe took a step forward. "You heard, didn't you? What Calien said."
Aurean didn't answer.
"I didn't invite him into my chambers. He came unannounced."
"I know," Aurean said. "He made that clear."
Another silence. Deeper this time.
Rythe searched his face, the soft, pale curve of Aurean's cheek, the small faint scar near his neck from the first battle they fought. "Why didn't you say anything to me? Why didn't you—"
"What would've been the point?" Aurean said, finally letting some edge bleed into his voice. "To ask whether it meant something? To ask if you regret it? Or if you'll choose him again? I'm not owed answers. I'm not owed anything from you."
"I never made a choice," Rythe said sharply.
"But you didn't stop him either," Aurean said, eyes dark now. "You didn't push him away. You let him touch you. You let him speak to me like I was no better than dirt. And you said nothing."
Rythe's mouth opened, but he said nothing.
And that silence—Aurean took as answer enough.
He stood slowly, the moonlight catching the curve of his jaw and the quiet bitterness in his eyes. "I'll continue with my duties. I won't cause trouble. And I won't let anyone know what happened between us. That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Aurean."
"I'll stay out of your way."
He moved past Rythe then, the soft brush of his shoulder ghosting along Rythe's arm like a memory.
When the door closed behind him, Rythe remained still.
The silence that followed was heavier than anything the battlefield had ever taught him.