The day had begun like any other. Rythe had resumed his duties, and though his body still bore the strain of his injuries, his presence had returned to the palace halls with the quiet command he was known for. Yet one thing remained unchanged—his deliberate avoidance of Aurean.
It hadn't gone unnoticed. The royal siblings had grown attached to Aurean, and his presence at the palace was now frequent, familiar. With him came Prince Kaedor, his ever-present shadow, whose flirtations had grown bolder by the day.
That morning, Rythe was moving through one of the palace's narrower corridors, his path deliberate and swift. As he turned a sharp corner, he suddenly collided with someone.
Aurean.
Rythe froze.
So did Aurean.
For one breathless second, they stood close, startled. Then Rythe quickly stepped back, spine rigid, and without a word, turned to go the way he had come. But a familiar voice rang out behind them, halting him mid-step.
"You've been civil lately. I almost forgot there was a beast lurking under all that silence."
Kaedor.
He had been behind Aurean, having bent down to retrieve a handkerchief that had fluttered to the floor, missing the near-collision.
Rythe turned, but his eyes did not find Aurean. They remained locked on Kaedor—flat, unreadable.
Kaedor's smile was cool, his tone laced with mockery.
"Don't mistake this for a truce," he said. "I'm only behaving because I represent Virelia. When I see you outside these walls, I'll remind you just how little I care for your existence."
He stepped closer, voice dipping, venomous.
"You've done well keeping out of my path, Rythe. But don't forget—you're still just a beast dressed as a man. You will never be truly loved. No one ever will."
Aurean tensed.
The words struck deeper than Kaedor knew, and yet they felt painfully familiar. They were nearly identical to what Aurean himself had once said to Rythe in a moment of anger—words that had shattered something between them.
Since that night, Rythe had been distant. Quiet. Gone.
Now, he stood before Kaedor, expression blank, unmoved by the insult. He didn't speak, didn't rise to the bait. He simply watched Kaedor with the same cold calm one might give a passing shadow.
Then Kaedor, ever smug, slipped his arm around Aurean's waist with theatrical intimacy. Aurean stiffened, instinctively wanting to pull away—but found his body betraying him, leaning ever so slightly into the contact. The gesture made Kaedor's smile deepen in satisfaction.
To an onlooker, they would appear as a pair—graceful, close, desirable.
Aurean's gaze flicked back to Rythe.
But Rythe wasn't looking at him.
Not even once.
Without a word, Rythe stepped around them and continued down the corridor, leaving behind only silence in his wake.
Aurean remained still in Kaedor's hold, his heart thudding—not from affection, but from the cold realization that for the first time, Rythe hadn't flinched.
He simply… walked away.
Aurean finally found himself alone.
For once, Kaedor was nowhere in sight, and the stillness of the shaded courtyard offered a rare moment of peace. The breeze rustled gently through the garden trees, but Aurean's mind was far from calm. His thoughts lingered on Rythe—on the cold way he had looked through him earlier, as if he no longer mattered.
He sat down on a low stone bench, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. The moment weighed heavily on him.
"Wow."
The voice startled him.
Lareth stood nearby, arms crossed, a sly grin on his face.
"You guys should just make it official already."
Aurean blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Lareth raised a brow. "You and Kaedor, obviously."
Aurean straightened. "What?"
Lareth stepped closer, amused. "His scent is all over you. That's basically his way of telling the world, Aurean is mine—keep off."
Aurean stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment. "His scent is really on me?"
"As an alpha, I feel it strongly," Lareth said, casually. "Kaedor's not subtle, and it clings. I wouldn't be surprised if he's doing it deliberately. I can't imagine how it will be for Rythe…"
He trailed off.
Aurean looked up sharply. "What about Rythe?"
Lareth tilted his head. "Rythe's a dominant alpha. His senses are sharper. If I can smell it, you can bet he caught it before you even turned the corner. Right now, anyone who comes close to you will think you're already claimed."
Aurean sat still, lips parted slightly in disbelief, his mind racing. He hadn't noticed. He hadn't realized.
And Rythe—
From across the courtyard, movement caught Lareth's eye.
"Speak of the devil," he murmured under his breath.
Aurean followed his gaze.
Rythe, tall and silent, was walking across the open path in the distance, heading somewhere with his usual quiet determination.
Lareth gave Aurean a pat on the shoulder. "Good luck," he said dryly, and turned to leave.
Aurean didn't respond.
He could only sit there, the scent clinging to him like an invisible shackle… and Rythe, growing more distant by the second.
The doors to Aurean's chamber slammed shut behind him.
He stood there, chest rising and falling, Kaedor's laughter still ringing faintly in his ears, Lareth's words cutting deeper than he'd thought possible.
"His scent is all over you."
"That's like telling the world, 'Aurean is mine—keep off.'"
Aurean tore at the collar of his tunic, suddenly feeling suffocated in his own skin. The lingering scent—Kaedor's scent—clung to him, warm and smug, a possessive haze he hadn't even realized was there. It was on his neck, his wrists, even in the folds of his clothes.
No wonder Rythe hadn't looked at him.
He stormed into the adjoining bathing room, grabbed the ceramic bowl beside the basin, and filled it hastily from the pitcher of water. The scent still clung.
He reached for the scrub salts—the sharp kind, the ones meant to slough off grime after long training sessions—and poured them into the basin with shaking hands. Stripping off his tunic, he dunked a cloth in the water and scrubbed at his skin with frantic, feverish strokes.
His neck.
His arms.
Behind his ears.
His wrists.
Over and over.
The water grew cloudy, and the scent began to fade—but not fast enough.
Tears pricked his eyes, but he ignored them.
"No one will ever love you."
"You're nothing but a beast in a human form."
"You'll remain unloved."
Kaedor had said it to Rythe like it was truth—but those were his words. The ones Aurean had flung at Rythe months ago in pain, in pride, in fear.
He looked up at the mirror across the room, meeting his own reflection: flushed, raw-skinned, wild-eyed.
"What have I done?" he whispered.
He dragged in a shaky breath, and grabbed a fresh robe, the softest one he could find. Wrapping it tightly around himself, he sank to the floor beside the basin.
He stayed there a long while.
And when he finally rose, the scent was mostly gone—but the damage wasn't.
Not to Rythe.
Not to himself.