The soft hum of evening settled over Princess Rhalia's personal sitting room, where golden light from high windows slanted across velvet cushions and polished stone. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, and the sound of the crackling hearth was the only noise for a time.
All the siblings were gathered. Rhalia sat with regal poise beside her alpha female spouse, who watched everyone carefully but said little. Maleus lounged near the low table, his arm draped protectively around his omega lover, Thalan, who sat cross-legged beside him, sipping slowly from a warm cup of tea. Astrid leaned against the wall, sharp-eyed. Elion paced near the windows as usual. Kael, sat curled in a corner chair with a book half-forgotten on his lap. Vaela lounged barefoot, legs tucked under her, listening but not speaking. Dain leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, unreadable.
And in the center of it all stood Rythe, tense, unmoving, Lareth behind him, the only non-royal present. The servants had been dismissed by Rhalia's spouse. No guards. No eavesdroppers. This was family.
Rythe's voice broke the silence.
"Lareth. Make sure no one—no one—ever finds out what happened between me and Aurean. It ends here. Bury it."
Lareth's brows furrowed, but he nodded.
Rythe turned to his siblings. His expression was hard, but his voice—quiet and sharp—cut deep.
"And none of you are to bring up Aurean again. Not to me. Not to anyone. It's done."
A pause. Everyone exchanged silent looks. It was Astrid who asked first, her voice soft but steady.
"Why?"
Rythe looked away briefly, jaw tight.
"Because Aurean is a weakness."
"A weakness that our enemies could use. And I won't let them. Aurean's suffered enough already—at the hands of his family. At the hands of the royal court. At the hands of the royal family. Of me."
His words hung in the air like smoke.
"I refuse to add to the list."
"What now, then?" asked Dain from the door, arms still folded. "What's your next move?"
Rythe took a long breath before saying the words that would shake them all.
"I'm leaving the capital."
Rhalia sat up straight. Maleus stiffened.
"Leaving?" she echoed. "Where—why?"
"I'm going undercover. To the outer kingdoms. We don't know who our enemy is, or where the threat is coming from. But they're striking in silence, in shadows. The only way to find them is to go where no prince of Ardan is supposed to go."
"Alone?" Elion asked, aghast. "You'll be killed!"
"I'll go as a mercenary. A vagabond. They won't know who I am."
"That's a dangerous gamble," Dain warned. "You're risking your life."
"I've been doing that since I was thirteen," Rythe said, voice low. "At least this time, it's my choice."
His eyes moved to Maleus.
"In my absence, you will co-rule with Father. The Crescent Knights report to you now. Protect Thalan. Protect Rhalia's spouse. Protect everyone here. I'll leave extra protection with each of you."
Maleus nodded slowly, shoulders heavy with the weight Rythe was giving him.
"Why tell us first?" Vaela asked, her voice unusually still.
"Because I trust you more than I trust the court," Rythe said. "And because I may not come back."
A collective breath caught in the room.
Lareth stepped forward, eyes hard.
"Then take me with you."
Immediately, the rest of the siblings echoed him.
"Take him."
"You shouldn't go alone!"
"He's been at your side this whole time!"
"You need someone who knows your habits."
Rythe turned to them, gaze slow and steady.
"No. I'm leaving Lareth behind."
"Why?" Kael asked sharply.
"Because the only person I trust with my family's safety is Lareth."
Silence dropped like a stone. Even Dain, known for his stoicism, looked away, jaw clenched.
Rhalia was the first to stand and come to him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly.
"Then go," she whispered. "But come back."
Maleus rose, gripping Rythe's forearm.
"We'll hold the line until you return. No matter what."
Astrid kissed his cheek silently. Elion muttered a curse and then pulled him into a rough hug. Kael offered a quiet handclasp. Vaela leaned her forehead against his for a breath. Dain simply said:
"Don't die."
Even Thalan stood and bowed low.
Finally, Lareth stepped close—grabbing Rythe's arm and gripping it tightly.
"Be safe," he said. "You come back. You have to."
Rythe gave a small nod. His eyes swept over all of them.
"Keep Ardan safe. Keep each other safe. Until I return."
He turned to go, the scent of ash and steel trailing him like a memory.
"We'll miss you," Rhalia called softly.
"I'll miss you too," Rythe said without turning around—and was gone.
The throne room was packed, the golden pillars casting long shadows across the polished marble floor as the entire Imperial Court assembled under the command of Prince Rythe. Nobles whispered behind gloved hands, their eyes flitting between one another, between generals, ministers, and the emperor himself, who sat watching his son with furrowed brows.
Rythe stood at the center of the raised dais, clad in black and silver military garb, his crimson cape trailing behind him like blood spilled for the crown. Behind him stood Maleus, silent and steady. The Crescent Knights were not present—this was a matter of empire, not just of war.
When Rythe finally spoke, the room fell utterly still.
"Ardan is under attack," he began, his voice ringing clear across the hall. "We face an enemy unlike any we've known—faceless, nameless, precise. They leave no trace. No sigil. Not even prisoners."
His eyes swept over the court. No one dared interrupt.
"We've tried traditional intelligence networks. We've sent scouts. We've interrogated survivors. Nothing. Whoever is moving against us is doing so in silence, and with terrifying efficiency."
He took a breath, then added,
"Which is why I've decided to go myself."
A ripple of shock coursed through the hall. Murmurs exploded, nobles jolting forward in their seats. The emperor's jaw clenched.
"Alone," Rythe said, raising a hand for silence. "Undercover. Through the kingdoms beyond our borders."
"Your Highness—!" one of the ministers began to protest.
"No one is more familiar with Ardan's enemies than I am," Rythe cut in. "No one else has fought them, bled against them, watched how they move from the front lines. And no one else has more reason to uncover the truth."
His voice dropped, calm and razor-edged.
"Anyone else can be compromised. Bribed. Threatened. I can't risk that. I trust no one to do this better than I can."
More whispers erupted—but none challenged him openly. Not yet.
Rythe then turned to his brother beside him, placing a firm hand on Maleus's shoulder.
"In my absence, Prince Maleus will hold authority over my military power. The Crescent Knights will answer to him. As will our border garrisons and foreign intelligence channels."
Maleus stepped forward, bowing slightly. His expression was unreadable—but those who knew him could see the weight settle heavily on his shoulders.
Rythe addressed the court again, softer now, but no less resolute.
"This is not a disappearance. It's strategy. I will return—with answers, or with the head of whoever dares to threaten our empire."
"How long will you be gone?" asked the emperor finally, his voice low.
"As long as it takes," Rythe answered, locking eyes with his father.
Another silence followed, heavier than the last. The court now stared not at a prince, but at the weapon the empire had forged over years of war—and the sharp edge of his conviction.
"Then may the gods shield you," the emperor said at last.
And the court—though many hearts were heavy and more tongues were wary—bowed as one.