"Leave us."
Alaric's voice was low but absolute, a command that froze the chamber. The guards glanced at one another, hesitant, until the prince's golden eyes narrowed with a flare of warning. Even Darius, ever loyal and wary, bowed his head and gestured for the others to withdraw.
The heavy door closed with a muted thud, leaving Rin alone with the First Prince.
The vial of shimmering liquid gleamed faintly in his hand—his first successful batch of Sovereign's Calm. Rin's expression was polite, even serene, but his heart pounded beneath the thick layers of his composure. He set the cup down on the prince's bedside table and inclined his head with practiced grace.
"Your Highness, this should steady the turbulence in your blood. Drink it in one swallow. This time it would be not temporary but permanent.It is most effective when not lingered upon."
Alaric sat upright against the pillows, golden eyes half-lidded with suspicion. His gaze swept from Rin's composed face to the vial, then back again. Finally, he lifted it and tipped it to his lips.
The taste struck instantly. His face twisted, and he coughed into his fist with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
"This," he growled, "is foul. Poison might taste better."
Rin folded his hands into his sleeves, his smile unfaltering though the edges of his words were honed like glass.
"How princely, to complain like a child who refuses his medicine. Perhaps next time I should coat the rim with honey for Your Highness's delicate palate."
Alaric's brows shot up, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, golden gaze glimmering with a predator's curiosity. "Sharp tongue, little herbalist. You forget to whom you speak."
"Politeness requires truth, Highness," Rin replied smoothly, bowing just enough to be proper without yielding an inch. From his sleeve, he produced a small wrapped piece of candy, amber-colored with honey and mint. He set it neatly in his palm and offered it. "For the bitterness. I anticipated this."
Alaric reached, but instead of taking it, his lips brushed directly against Rin's fingers. He bit down, the crunch of the sweet echoing in the hush of the chamber—along with the faint sting of his teeth grazing skin.
Rin froze. Heat raced up his spine, his composure shattering for the first time. Alaric's golden eyes gleamed, not with mockery but something sharper, hungrier.
For one breath, it was too close. Too dangerous.
Rin withdrew his hand swiftly, sleeve hiding the faint tremor in his fingers. His bow was deeper this time, buying space to steady himself. "If Your Highness has no further complaints, I shall take my leave."
Alaric leaned back, chewing leisurely, the very picture of satisfaction. "Run along, then. But remember—medicine, candy, or curses—everything you place in my hand, I will consume."
The words burned hotter than the sting on Rin's finger. He managed a courteous nod, but inside, his mind was a storm of curses. Arrogant, shameless, golden-eyed brute.
He slipped from the chamber before his face betrayed him, every step measured though his ears felt aflame.
---
Not long after, another visitor entered the prince's wing—the King himself. Unlike the consort's faction, the King had kept his inquiries hidden, knowing too well how his second wife listened to every whisper.
When Alaric rose to greet him, the older man's eyes sharpened. The boy who could barely stand without drowning the air in wild pheromones now stood calmly, breath even, posture steady. The familiar oppressive storm that always clung to him was… subdued, like thunderclouds retreating beyond the horizon.
"Alaric," the King said quietly, studying his son as though he were seeing him anew. "You are… changed."
Alaric smirked, tilting his head. "Don't tell me you've been praying for miracles, Father. It is no miracle—merely medicine."
The King's gaze flicked toward the empty cup on the bedside table. He frowned, but deep within his eyes glimmered something long absent: cautious hope.
"Effective or not, I will judge with time," the King murmured. Yet his hand lingered a fraction longer on Alaric's shoulder, heavy with unspoken relief. "Hold fast to this calm, my son. The throne may yet need you whole."
As the King turned to leave, Alaric's golden eyes drifted back to the door Rin had departed through. He licked a trace of honey from his teeth, smirking faintly.
"Whole, hm? Perhaps," he murmured. "But not without my little herbalist."