The clang of steel echoed across the training grounds, the midday sun casting long shadows as Rythe moved among his knights. For the first time in weeks, there was an ease to his step, a quiet steadiness to his presence.
He hadn't spoken of the letter from Virelia to anyone, but those closest to him—Lareth especially—noticed the subtle difference. His orders were still sharp, his gaze still unforgiving in battle, but there was something softer lingering beneath it.
Then came the stir.
Gasps, giggles, and hurried bows spread across the courtyard like ripples in water as the palace maids and soldiers caught sight of royal crests gleaming in the sun. All four of Rythe's brothers—Maleus, Elion, Dain, and, most astonishingly, Kael—walked toward him in their princely finery.
The training field stilled. Whispers rose like leaves in the wind.
Rythe turned, brows raised slightly. "Should I be concerned?"
Dain smirked. "Not unless Kael's come to challenge you for a fourth time."
"Never again," Kael muttered under his breath, eyes trained on the ground.
Rythe waved off his knights and led them silently into his war office.
The door shut.
Silence.
Kael opened his mouth. Then closed it.
Dain elbowed him. "Well? You dragged us here, don't suddenly grow a tail and hide it."
Kael swallowed and looked around the room at his brothers before settling his eyes on Rythe, who stood by the window, arms loosely crossed.
"I..." Kael exhaled. "I came to say I'm sorry."
No one spoke.
Kael stepped forward. "I'm sorry for my greed, my jealousy. My foolish ambition. I convinced myself I was meant for more, that I was owed something—when the truth is, I was blind. I let others use me. I nearly destroyed everything we are as a family. I betrayed you, Rythe, not just as a brother, but as your own blood."
Rythe's gaze stayed unreadable.
Kael's voice cracked, "And still... you saved me. You stood between me and a blade that should've ended my life. I don't deserve your mercy. I don't understand it. But I remember when we were children—how close we all were. How you always carried the burdens of this family when no one else would. I just—" his voice faltered again "—I want to make things right. If not with words, then with action."
There was a stillness.
Then Maleus stepped forward. "He's telling the truth. He's changed. Maybe not entirely, but he's trying. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too—for retreating when you stood for me. I should have thanked you. Instead I let pride blind me."
Rythe's jaw worked for a moment. Then he slowly looked at them all, his voice quiet.
"You want peace now. But only after the blood has been spilled, after the child has died, after the man has been broken."
The room stilled.
Kael bowed his head.
"But..." Rythe continued, voice low, steady, "...if I were to carry the weight of every wrong done to me, none of us would be standing here. Not even me."
He looked to each of them.
"Family isn't meant to be perfect. But it should be loyal."
A breath passed. And for the first time in years, all five royal sons stood in one room not as rivals, not as strangers—but brothers.
Rythe finally spoke again, this time softer.
"Then let's start again. But this time, as one."
And slowly—hesitantly at first—Kael stepped forward, then Elion and Dain, and finally Maleus. Arms wrapped around shoulders. Hands clasped. Forgiveness, not fully spoken, but silently given.
For a kingdom so often torn by ambition and duty, the first seed of healing had finally been sown.
The news of the princes' visit to Rythe had spread like wildfire through the palace, but it didn't take long before the imperial princesses caught wind of it—and decided, in true sisterly fashion, to investigate for themselves.
Princess Rhalia, ever regal and sharp-tongued, strode ahead with practiced grace. Vaela, poised and observant, matched her pace, while Astrid, the youngest and most mischievous of the three, trailed just slightly behind, already smirking with mischief.
"So the prodigal brothers wept and embraced," Rhalia murmured, eyes glinting. "How touching."
"And shocking," Vaela added. "Did anyone check if the heavens cracked open?"
"I'm sure Rythe didn't cry," Astrid chirped, skipping forward, "but I bet he looked all broody and handsome while they poured their hearts out."
"I'm more surprised Kael didn't sprain his pride," Rhalia replied.
By the time the sisters reached the training grounds, all chatter halted. Soldiers and knights immediately dropped into bows, startled at the sight of not one but three royal daughters gracing their domain.
Lareth stepped forward with an amused tilt of his mouth. "Your Highnesses. If you're searching for Prince Rythe, I'm afraid he's not here at the moment."
"We'll wait," Vaela said smoothly. "Unless you expect us to sit in the mud."
Astrid bounced on her heels. "Or better yet—let's meet the famous hounds.
Lareth's eyes widened ever so slightly, but he bowed gallantly. "As you wish, Princess. Master Dael—Garren—introduce our war hounds to the ladies."
The sisters were led toward the kennels where the scent of damp earth, leather, and fur mingled. The massive hounds, stirred as they approached.
"Sweet gods above," Rhalia whispered, freezing mid-step as one of the larger hounds—a black-furred beast named Rook—growled softly and sniffed at the hem of her gown.
"They're... huge," Vaela said, retreating just a pace.
"They're beautiful," Astrid said... and then screamed when one licked her hand.
Laughter echoed.
At that very moment, Lareth—having found Rythe hidden in the stables checking a saddle strap—approached him and said, with dry amusement, "Your sisters are at the kennels. They came looking for you."
Rythe paused, straightened, and blinked. "The hounds?"
"They insisted."
A grin tugged at the corner of Rythe's mouth.
When Rythe finally arrived, he found the scene exactly as Lareth had warned: three princesses surrounded by his hounds, standing stiff and panicked like porcelain dolls left in a bear's den.
As soon as they spotted him, all three made a run for it—skirts flying, shrieking indignantly—and crowded behind him in a single swoop.
"Call them off! Call them off!" Astrid yelped, gripping Rythe's arm.
"They're sniffing my boots," Vaela snapped.
"I think one of them just winked at me!" Rhalia hissed.
Rythe doubled over with laughter.
"Oh heavens," he said, still chuckling. "You're acting like they're wolves."
"They are wolves!" Rhalia cried.
He called off the hounds with a sharp whistle, and they dispersed obediently, tails wagging as if amused by the spectacle themselves.
Rythe guided his sisters back to his living quarters, where cool air and scented water awaited them. A servant appeared quickly with a tray of sweet pastries, chilled wine, and fruit slices.
The sisters, recovered now, lounged on the couches while Rythe sat across from them, still quietly smiling.
"So," Rhalia began, "how does it feel to be the kingdom's most emotionally repressed hero?"
"Excuse me?" Rythe asked.
Vaela leaned forward, elbow on her knee. "You, hugging Kael? That's nearly scandalous."
Astrid pointed a finger at him. "Which is why I've decided I'm hosting tea in three days. A proper family tea. Everyone is invited. No excuses. That includes you, Rythe."
Rythe raised an eyebrow. "You're ordering me?"
"I'm inviting you," she said sweetly. "With the force of imperial decree."
Rythe chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine. But if I see tears again, I'm blaming you."
Astrid beamed. "Excellent."
And for a moment, amidst laughter and teasing, Rythe allowed himself the rare comfort of being just a brother.