After the successful negotiations, Kaedor prepared to leave Ardan. The royal family, along with several members of the court, gathered in the palace courtyard to bid him farewell. There was laughter, formal pleasantries, and a touch of ceremony—yet one figure was conspicuously absent.
Rythe was in the training yard.
Once the farewells were over, Aurean, joined by Serin, Thalan, and Astrid, walked away from the courtyard in high spirits, chatting idly. Behind them, Cale followed, carrying a large wooden box. Their steps led them toward the training grounds.
Rythe, catching sight of them from the far end, wordlessly left the knights' quarters. Lareth, observing the quiet departure, said nothing.
As they entered the yard, the gathered knights immediately bowed to their royal guests. Astrid gestured for Cale to set the box before them. Lareth, curious, stepped forward, and at Aurean's nod, he summoned all the knights.
When the last of them had gathered, Aurean's voice rose—soft, yet carrying clearly across the yard.
"I know," he began, "that as warriors, you care little for how you look. The scars that mark your skin—whether from blade, burn, or lash—are badges of honor to you. Some of you even take pride in them."
A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd.
"But," Aurean continued, his tone gentler now, "some of you are married. You have husbands, you have wives. And while they understand the nature of your work, while they love you with your scars and all… perhaps, even if they never say it aloud, they still ache when they see your bodies marred."
A hush settled. Several knights shifted, their expressions betraying the weight of unspoken memories—glimpses of tender moments where a lover's hands had lingered on a jagged line of old pain.
"I have here," Aurean said, placing a hand on the box, "a balm that can clear any scar—burns, lashes, blades, you name it. It heals completely. I know it sounds impossible, but I have seen it work."
Murmurs broke out—startled, doubtful, hopeful.
"You are three hundred knights in total, including the newly added Omega Knights. I have brought three hundred vials of this salve—one for each of you. Even if you choose not to use it yourself, surely you know someone who will treasure it."
The yard erupted in cheers. The knights bowed deeply, voices raised in thanks, but Aurean only laughed and waved them off.
Lareth stepped forward, and together with Cale, began distributing the balm.
Aurean withdrew to a shaded corner with Serin, Thalan, and Astrid, watching the line of knights form. His friends praised his thoughtfulness, each in their own way.
Aurean simply smiled and said, "After using it myself, I swore I would share it with the knights. I have stood beside them in battle. I know what their bodies have endured—and how each scar carries its own story."
Rythe lingered at the far edge of the training yard, half-hidden by the shadow of the archway that led to the stables. He had slipped away when Aurean and the others entered, but something—he wasn't sure what—kept his feet from carrying him further.
From his vantage point, he could hear Aurean's voice carry across the yard. Not all the words reached him clearly, but enough did. Balm… erase scars… one for each knight.
The murmurs of the men, the sudden cheer, the way helmets lifted in salute—it all painted the picture well enough.
Rythe's fingers tightened slightly around the leather strap of the satchel slung over his shoulder. Aurean's thoughtfulness was… unexpected. Not the showy generosity of a royal, but something precise. Personal. A gift that spoke to wounds most men never admitted to carrying.
He let out a slow breath, his eyes narrowing slightly.
There had been a time—years ago—when Aurean had been the one needing protection, not the one giving it. And now here he stood, the knights of Ardan raising their voices in gratitude.
Rythe's gaze lingered for another moment, the corner of his mouth curving in something that wasn't quite a smile… but wasn't disdain either.
When Lareth began handing out the jars, Rythe turned away. His boots were silent on the packed earth as he disappeared down the corridor toward the lower barracks, leaving the sound of Aurean's laughter behind him.
The candles in Rythe's study burned low, casting long shadows over maps and open scrolls. He didn't look up when the door creaked open, but the familiar footsteps told him exactly who it was.
Lareth stepped inside, a small glass vial cradled in his palm. The golden balm inside caught the candlelight. He hesitated before speaking.
"I… thought you should know about what happened earlier—"
Rythe cut him off with a quiet, almost amused tone.
"I'm aware of everything that happened today."
That silenced Lareth. He glanced down again at the vial in his hands, thumb brushing the smooth glass. Rythe studied him for a moment, then let out a short laugh that made Lareth's head lift in surprise.
"You know, Lareth… I've known for some time you've been harboring feelings for Renna."
Lareth's mouth opened—ready to deny it—but he stopped himself.
Rythe's gaze softened just slightly.
"And I know how insecure you are about your scars. But we both know Renna is beautiful and strong—omega or not. And you, my dear friend, deserve love more than anyone I know."
Lareth swallowed, unsure if he wanted to thank him or argue.
"And," Rythe added with a faint smirk, "I also know Renna feels the same way."
"She does?" The question left Lareth so quickly it sounded almost desperate.
That earned a quiet, genuine laugh from Rythe.
"Yes, she does. Which is why I'm giving you both leave for a week. I don't care what you do, as long as you come back knowing what you want."
Lareth stared at him—stunned—before dropping to one knee in a crisp salute.
"My prince."
Rythe gave a single nod. "Dismissed. I'll see you in a week's time."
As Lareth left, clutching the vial as though it were some priceless jewel, Rythe returned to his papers. But a faint smile lingered on his lips long after the door closed.