Ael's prov
Ael rushed into the kitchen, his steps unsteady, his breath shallow. The warmth of the stoves and the clatter of utensils felt distant, as though the world around him had been muffled. He leaned against the wooden counter, gripping it tightly, his knuckles whitening.
"What… what did I just see?" the thought throbbed in his mind like a wound. He had never seen Prince Kaelen like that before—angry, vulnerable, undone. And then—Serene's lips pressed against his.
Ael shut his eyes, pressing a trembling hand to his chest. His heartbeat raced wildly, as if it wanted to break free from his ribs. Why is this affecting me? It's none of my business. None at all.
But no matter how he tried, the image refused to leave: Serene clinging to the Prince, Kaelen torn between resisting and something else—something deeper in his eyes Ael couldn't name. And then the moment Kaelen's gaze found him… that fleeting connection that made Ael's blood run cold.
He sank down onto a stool, burying his face in his hands. I should forget it. I must forget it. My place is here, in the kitchen, not in the matters of the Prince's heart.
Kaelen pov
Kaelen strode out of the library with quick, uneven steps. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched, and Serene's voice still echoed after him, pleading for forgiveness. He slammed the door to his chamber shut and leaned heavily against it, as though holding back not just Serene—but every storm inside him.
His lips still burned faintly from her kiss, unwanted and forced. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, as if he could erase the memory. Why now? Why after all these years… does she think I can simply forget?
He paced across the room, pulling at his collar as though it strangled him. "She cannot… she must not," he muttered under his breath. But the more he tried to shake her away, the sharper the image became—not Serene clinging to him, but Ael, standing there, watching.
That fleeting second when their eyes met—Kaelen felt exposed, stripped of every layer he kept hidden. It unsettled him more than Serene's kiss ever could. He saw. He saw everything.
Kaelen sank into the chair near the window, staring into the night beyond. His chest ached with something he couldn't name. Anger? Shame? Or the way his heart had quickened—not for Serene, but for the shadow of someone else in that room.
He closed his eyes, fingers gripping the armrest until it creaked. I cannot allow this. I cannot…
Yet the harder he fought the thought, the more it returned, relentless and uninvited—Ael's wide eyes, full of confusion and something deeper, haunting him in silence.
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The morning sun slanted across the long dining table, turning the polished wood and silver dishes into a dazzling spread. Servants hurried to and fro, chefs stood silently by the walls, awaiting compliments on the feast. Platters of roasted meat, bowls of steaming broth, baskets of golden bread—all laid out with perfection.
Everyone was present. Everyone, except Ael.
Kaelen noticed the absence instantly, though he kept his expression carefully smooth. Ael had never skipped duty before. The boy was meticulous, loyal—always at his place. But after last night in the library, Kaelen knew exactly why he wasn't here. He's avoiding me. Because of her. Because of what he saw.
Around him, conversation flowed. Family members and courtiers laughed easily, praising the food, speaking of hunts and duties. Serene sat across from him, her calm face betraying nothing of their late-night argument. She lifted her cup and smiled faintly, as if nothing had passed between them. Kaelen's jaw clenched.
The hum of conversation filled the hall until the King's voice cut through, calm but commanding.
"Kaelen," he said, fixing his son with a steady gaze, "you sit so quiet today. Tell me, have you taken your cousin Serene for a walk? Or shown her any part of the palace grounds? Perhaps a ride, a garden stroll—something to make her stay less dull?"
The question lingered in the air.
Kaelen's fingers tightened slightly around his cup, though his expression betrayed nothing. Slowly, he gave a measured shake of his head.
"No, Father."
A flicker of disappointment crossed the King's face. "You should. She has come from afar, and it is not right for her to sit behind these walls without joy. A prince must not only fight wars but also show courtesy to his kin."
The King turned to one of his stewards. "Arrange for the horses. My son will take his cousin riding today."
Take your cousin riding today."
Kaelen lowered his gaze in obedience, but his thoughts churned. Serene sat straight-backed, her eyes flickering briefly toward him, unreadable. And all the while, Ael's absence pressed against him like a shadow he could not shake.
Just as the steward bowed and left to prepare the horses, the King's gaze drifted toward the end of the long table where the servants usually stood. His sharp eyes scanned the line, but one familiar face was missing.
"Tell me," the King said suddenly, his tone edged with authority, "where is that young cook—the one who has been preparing those fine dishes? What is his name… Ael, is it not?"
The head chef, caught off guard, stepped forward with a respectful bow. "Yes, Your Majesty. Ael is usually here at this hour, but today…" He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, it was then the head chef, nervous at the corner, spoke up softly.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty… but Ael prepared nothing this morning. Not even the fish."
The King arched a brow. "Not even one?"
But the King's voice drew him back. "Strange. A servant who forgets his duty is either careless or troubled. Which do you suppose it is?"
The head chef bowed lower. "I believe, sire, that Ael is… troubled. He is not one to neglect his duties without cause."
The King stroked his beard, considering this. "Hm. Then perhaps someone should discover what weighs on him. A troubled mind spoils the hand's work, and I will not have distractions in my kitchens."
Kaelen's jaw tightened as he kept his silence. Deep down, he knew too well what "troubled" might mean.
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