The next morning, Aurean found himself at the palace, seated in Rhalia's sunlit quarters alongside Thalan, Astrid, and Rhalia's lover, Serin. The air was light, filled with teasing remarks and bursts of laughter as they traded stories over a tray of sweet pastries. For a moment, Aurean let himself relax, almost forgetting the shadows that had followed him these past days.
The door creaked open, and Dain stepped inside. Warm greetings were exchanged, but his expression was thoughtful, almost guarded, as he turned to Rhalia.
"Has Rythe told you anything about the months he was gone?" he asked.
Rhalia shook her head, brow knitting. "No. Not a word."
Astrid, leaning lazily against the arm of her chair, added, "I did notice he came back with serious injuries. Makes you wonder where he went to end up like that."
There was a short pause before Thalan, quieter than usual, murmured, "And let's not forget the girl. No one knows who she is… or what she gave him."
The mirth that had filled the room moments ago faded into a heavy silence. Each of them seemed to drift into their own thoughts, piecing together fragments of suspicion.
Aurean's gaze lingered on the polished surface of his cup, though his mind was far from it. Worry pressed into his chest, sharp and unyielding. Whatever Rythe had been through, whatever secrets he was holding—Aurean feared they were heavier than anyone here could guess.
Aurean kept quiet as the conversation shifted to lighter matters, but his mind refused to let go of Thalan's words. He could almost see Rythe's face in his mind's eye—tired, watchful, and just a little more closed off than before.
He told himself it was none of his business anymore, that Rythe had chosen his path long before Aurean had found the strength to walk his own. And yet…
Aurean's fingers curled around his cup until the porcelain bit into his skin. If there was danger brewing, if Rythe was standing in its shadow alone… then pretending not to care was a luxury Aurean wasn't sure he could afford.
He glanced toward the tall palace windows, sunlight spilling over the marble floor, and made a quiet decision. Whether Rythe wanted him there or not, Aurean would find a way to stand beside him.
Aurean left Rhalia's quarters with the lingering warmth of laughter still clinging to him. Yet, halfway down the polished corridor, a strange pull took hold—a quiet, unshakable urge that tugged him toward Rythe.
His feet changed course almost of their own accord.
By now, the palace guards and attendants knew him well. He moved through the hallways unchallenged, greeted with nods and murmured respect. No one spoke of the shadows of his past; it was as though the darker chapters had been erased from memory, as though they had never existed.
He spotted the young omega, Cael, in the antechamber. The boy bowed, his scent calm and polite.
"Where is Lareth?" Aurean asked.
"On leave, my lord," Cael replied.
Aurean blinked, surprised. "And Rythe?"
"Not in, my lord."
A quiet flicker of disappointment tightened Aurean's chest, but he nodded. "I'll wait for him."
He started toward Rythe's study, but halfway there, he turned. The familiar pull guided him instead to Rythe's bedchamber.
The moment he stepped inside, the scent hit him—warm leather, faint steel, and the grounding presence that had always been Rythe. It was absurd how safe it felt. Without thinking, Aurean crossed the room and lay down on the bed, breathing it in. Sleep claimed him swiftly.
Hours later, Rythe returned from inspection, sweat and dust still clinging faintly to him. Cael met him in the hall.
"My lord, Aurean came looking for you—he's been here for hours."
Rythe frowned in surprise. He headed to his study first, expecting to find Aurean there. But the room was empty.
A trace of familiar pheromones caught his senses. He followed it to his own bedchamber—only to stop short.
Aurean was sprawled on his bed, fast asleep.
For one heartbeat, Rythe simply stood there, the sight undoing him in ways he could not name. Slowly, careful not to wake him, Rythe signaled for food to be brought up—it was late, and Aurean would wake hungry. Then he took a seat on the couch, papers in hand, and pretended to read.
When Aurean stirred, it was with a contented sigh and a lazy stretch. His gaze found Rythe sitting across the room. Rythe's eyes dropped back to the parchment, his voice calm but distant.
"Food's been brought for you," he said without looking up. "It's already night, and Cael tells me you've been waiting for hours. You must be hungry."
Aurean rose and moved to the small dining table. He ate slowly, his eyes fixed on Rythe the entire time. Rythe didn't glance up once.
When the meal was done, Rythe finally spoke—quietly, still looking at his papers.
"Why did you come looking for me, Aurean?"