The clang of steel echoed across the palace training grounds.
Knights moved in coordinated drills—blades slicing through morning fog, boots stomping in disciplined rhythm. Sparks flew as steel met steel, but not a single move was wasted. These were Rythe's soldiers, and discipline was their creed.
On the far side of the grounds, Aurean knelt beside Mael and Varnak, giving silent hand signals as the hounds followed his instructions with eerie precision. Their coats glistened with dew, their eyes trained on him like loyal shadows.
Even the knights had started to glance his way—not with scorn, but curiosity.
Respect was a quiet thing, and it had begun to grow.
Until the air was shattered.
"Where is he? I demand to see Rythe—now!"
The shrill cry cut through the training yard like an arrow through silk.
Heads turned.
Aurean stiffened but did not look up.
At the edge of the courtyard, Tallen stood in a flurry of rich blue silks, his cheeks flushed red, lips curled in righteous indignation. His presence was all perfume and poison—desperate grandeur clinging to a collapsing pedestal.
Lareth emerged from the nearby barracks, brow creased in irritation. "What's the noise, Tallen? This is a military training ground, not your personal stage."
Tallen stormed up to him, voice dripping venom. "You—does this have to do with Calien returning? Is that why Rythe ended things with me? Did he break it off because he knew that Beta was on his way back?"
Lareth gave him a long, unimpressed look. "He ended it because you humiliated someone under his protection. You abused the privileges given to you by the prince, flaunted your noble birth, and acted without restraint. That's not affection. That's shame. If you had a shred of dignity left, you'd leave before the prince sees you here."
Gasps rippled through the soldiers.
Aurean stood slowly, keeping his distance, his gaze focused on the hounds.
That was when Calien strolled into view—cloaked in diplomatic silk, the sheen of recent travel still clinging to his boots, and a lazy, amused smirk painted across his face.
"Well, well," Calien drawled as he approached, arms crossed. "I do hope I'm not interrupting a lover's quarrel. Though if I am… really, Tallen, must you compare yourself to me? You're only setting yourself up for disappointment."
Tallen's face drained of color, then flushed violently red.
"You arrogant—"
"—Beta," Calien finished for him smoothly, inspecting his glove. "And still the one Rythe chose before you. And likely, after."
Tallen's lip quivered as the humiliation twisted deeper. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed away from the grounds, the laughter of a few knights trailing behind him.
Calien turned toward Lareth with a falsely pleasant expression. "Now, knight, shall I take that as a welcome back?"
Lareth's tone cooled. "You've made your return quite known. But Rythe isn't here. If you've finished your show, I suggest you leave before he returns."
Calien tilted his head. "And who are you to suggest anything to me?"
Lareth met his gaze, steady. "The man who has stood beside him in every battle. The one who's still here when diplomacy turns to blood."
Calien's eyes flashed, but he said nothing more.
Aurean, still silent, led the hounds back toward the kennels.
Calien didn't glance at him. But the smallest flicker of recognition—or curiosity—passed across his face.
And then, like smoke in the wind, the morning continued.
But the ground beneath the palace? It was beginning to crack.
The midday sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the palace as Rythe dismounted in the private courtyard behind the barracks. Dust clung to his armor, his gloves were stained from the last scout run outside the city walls, and his eyes carried the weight of sleepless days.
He didn't speak as the grooms approached. He didn't need to. They scattered to tend to his horse as if reading his unspoken mood.
Lareth was waiting.
He stood by the stone column nearest the barracks doors, arms folded, his jaw tight.
"You look like hell," Lareth said simply.
"I've had worse," Rythe replied, stripping off his riding gloves. "Report."
Lareth nodded toward the training grounds. "Tallen came. Caused a scene."
Rythe's steps faltered for the briefest of seconds before continuing toward the barracks.
"He wanted to see you. Loudly. Accused you of ending things because of Calien's return. Screamed it in front of half the knights."
Rythe didn't stop walking. "Did you handle it?"
"I did." Lareth followed him inside. "Told him it was over. That he embarrassed you. That he should be grateful for the grace you extended in silence and leave with what little dignity he has left."
Rythe paused, one hand on the hilt of his sword as if the words had settled there.
"He left?"
"He did. But not before Calien showed up."
This time Rythe turned, brows rising. "Calien?"
Lareth nodded grimly. "Arrived right as Tallen was melting down. Took the opportunity to humiliate him further."
Rythe's lips pressed into a thin line.
Lareth added, "He clearly wanted an audience."
Rythe gave a faint exhale. "Did he speak to Aurean?"
"No. Not a word. Didn't even acknowledge him." Lareth hesitated. "But he saw him. Saw how the hounds follow him now. How the knights don't mock him anymore."
Rythe's jaw twitched. "And Aurean?"
"Didn't react. Kept to himself. Took the hounds to the kennel after. Head down, silent. The way he always is when something cuts deeper than he'll admit."
The silence between them stretched.
Rythe leaned against the wall for a moment, gaze unfocused. "This is how it begins. Whispered tests. Public digs. The old guard sharpening their claws."
Lareth stepped closer. "Then you better be ready."
"I've always been ready."
But his voice lacked the steel it once held.
Lareth watched him carefully. "What are you going to do?"
Rythe looked toward the far hall where his quarters lay—where Aurean likely sat alone again, after being dragged into yet another fire not of his making.
"I don't know," Rythe said quietly.
And for the first time, he meant it.