The Roscaire carriage rattled its way toward the palace, its iron-rimmed wheels complaining loudly over every uneven stretch of cobblestone. Every bump sent another little jolt through the plush seats, as if the carriage had personally decided that nobody inside deserved a comfortable journey.
Lioren slumped into the seat with his arms crossed, glaring across the carriage at Evelia. His sister, naturally, looked perfectly comfortable. She was calmly adjusting the lace on her cuffs, wearing the smug expression of a woman who had invited herself onto someone else’s errand and somehow believed she had every right to be there.
"I don’t recall asking for an escort," Lioren grumbled. "Why exactly are you in my carriage, Evelia? Did someone forget to lock the manor doors?"
Evelia didn’t even look up from her sleeve. "It is our family carriage, little brother. And why shouldn’t I come? You went off behind everyone’s backs, pulled a stunt that nearly gave half the ministry a stroke, and now you expect me to sit at home quietly sipping chamomile tea while you run around the capital doing heaven-knows-what?"
"I am picking up my fiancé," Lioren said, pronouncing the last word with an absurd, exaggerated pomp that made his sister’s left eyebrow twitch. "It’s a very straightforward, boring errand. Zero drama."
"Right. Because everything you touch is notoriously ’boring’ and devoid of drama," Evelia scoffed, turning her head to glare at him through the glass window. "Admit it, Lioren. You didn’t want me coming because you’re hiding another ridiculous idea up your sleeve. Or perhaps you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your foreign prize?"
Lioren rolled his eyes so hard it practically hurt. "Please. You didn’t come out of concern for my delicate feelings, sister. You just wanted to get a look at him yourself. You’re nosy. You’ve always been nosy, ever since you were seven and dug up my hidden stash of lead soldiers behind the stables."
"If you stopped doing suspicious, wildly unpredictable things," Evelia shot back, "nobody in this family would have to be nosy! We have to monitor you for the safety of the duchy!"
Lioren let out a long, theatrical sigh, leaning his head back against the leather padding. "Just promise me you’ll behave yourself around the Prince. He doesn’t need my terrifying older sister interrogating him like a border spy ten seconds after he steps into the daylight."
"I know how to behave perfectly well!" Evelia snapped, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. "Unlike certain Grand Duke who use royal favors to acquire husbands without bothering to consult their parents first!"
"I had very good reasons!"
"That," Evelia said, pointing a slender, gloved finger straight at his chest, "is precisely what someone with atrocious, indefensible reasons always says."
Lioren genuinely considered kicking open the carriage door and shoving her out into the street. But before he could calculate the exact speed they were traveling, the carriage slowed to a smooth halt beneath the tall stone portico of the royal palace.
A footman snapped the door open, lowering the iron steps. Lioren stepped out first, adjusting his black coat, while Evelia walked behind him.
Lioren had fully expected to bypass the main reception halls entirely, he’d assumed a low-ranking page would simply lead them down to the foreign guest wing, grab Xavion’s three trunks, and have them on their way back to the estate within twenty minutes.
Instead, a senior royal chamberlain wearing the heavy gold chains of King Ryzenard’s household bowed low before them in the grand vestibule.
"Grand Duke Roscaire. Lady Evelia," the chamberlain greeted, his voice echoing off the high marble pillars. "His Majesty has been informed of your arrival. He is currently presiding over the morning audience in the throne room and requests your presence."
Lioren straightened his collar, gave Evelia a warning look that clearly translated to ’Don’t start anything’, and strode down the corridor.
The tall doors swung inward, revealing the breathtaking expanse of the royal throne room. Sunlight streamed through the towering stained-glass arches, illuminating the long crimson carpet that stretched toward the high dais. At the far end, seated upon the carved golden throne of Werestia, sat King Ryzenard. The old monarch looked remarkably formidable today, his heavy ermine cloak draped over broad shoulders, surrounded by a handful of senior ministers and royal scribes holding parchment scrolls.
Lioren and Evelia walked to the foot of the dais, bowing with crisp, practiced synchronization.
"May the sun shine upon Your Majesty."
King Ryzenard leaned forward, a slow, amused crease forming around his eyes as he looked down at the young warlord. He rested his chin on his gloved hand, clearly entertained by the unannounced visit.
"Grand Duke," the King began. "I must admit, I did not expect to see your face in my hall today. I do not recall my scribes putting a meeting with the Grand Duke of the North."
"There is no scheduled meeting, Sire," Lioren replied easily, resting his hands behind his back. "I’ve simply come to collect Prince Xavion myself."
A low murmur rippled through the gathered ministers behind the throne.
King Ryzenard raised his eyebrows, a genuine rumble of laughter escaping his chest. "You came personally? To fetch him yourself?" The King’s sharp gaze drifted toward the dark-haired woman standing beside the Duke. "And I see Lady Evelia has graced us with her presence as well."
"My sister decided she was coming whether I liked it or not, Your Majesty," Lioren offered casually, not bothering to hide the faint annoyance in his tone. "Family solidarity, or something of the sort."
Evelia offered the King a flawless, blindingly sweet smile that made Lioren’s stomach turn. "I merely wished to ensure my brother did not accidentally cause a diplomatic crisis on his way out the door, Sire."
King Ryzenard chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, the famous Roscaire sibling harmony. A national treasure." The King paused, his expression shifting into something slightly more curious as he leaned toward Lioren. "I must ask, Grand Duke Roscaire... why didn’t you take the prince back to your estate last night after the banquet? He was legally in your custody the moment the favor was granted."
Lioren quieted down for a second, the light, playful edge slipping from his posture.
"Last night was... chaotic, Your Majesty," Lioren explained softly, his voice carrying a quiet, genuine weight that caught even Evelia off guard. "His Highness had literally just arrived in the capital after a long, grueling journey. He was thrust into a loud victory celebration, surrounded by people who viewed him as a trophy, and then had his entire legal status flipped on its head within ten minutes. I didn’t think it was right to drag him through the dark streets to an unfamiliar house on top of all that. A man needs time to draw a breath before he’s handed another shock."
Silence settled over the throne room.
King Ryzenard studied Lioren for a long, quiet moment. The old King had watched Lioren grow from a reckless, hot-headed young officer into the formidable warlord who had won many campaigns. He had seen the young Grand Duke charge into bloody skirmishes without a second thought, volunteering for every suicidal border assignment on the map.
Seeing him display such a quiet, thoughtful level of consideration for an enemy hostage was... unexpected, to say the least.
"You’ve become surprisingly gentle now," King Ryzenard teased lightly, a warm smile touching his lips. "I remember a boy who would have thrown the prince over his saddle and ridden straight through a snowstorm to get back to his barracks."
Standing beside Lioren, Evelia leaned in slightly, muttering under her breath just loud enough for her brother to hear: "He’s still reckless. He’s just found a far more ridiculous way to show it."
Lioren shot her a sharp, lethal glare out of the corner of his eye, his jaw tightening as he resisted the urge to step on her foot.
King Ryzenard didn’t miss the subtle exchange and laughed out loud, gesturing to one of the royal guards stationed near the side entrance. "Summon Prince Xavion from the guest quarters. Let us not keep the Grand Duke waiting any longer than necessary."
As the guard bowed and hurried down the side gallery, the atmosphere in the throne room relaxed. The King casually inquired about the state of the Roscaire estate, asking if the staff were prepared.
"Everything has been arranged, Sire," Lioren answered smoothly. "I sent orders ahead early this morning."
Evelia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked sideways at her brother.
Minutes ticked by, the soft murmur of court chatter filling the vast hall.
Then...
The massive doors creaked open.
The heavy sound cut right through the court’s quiet hum. Every head in the room turned toward the entrance. Ministers straightened their doublets; guards snapped to attention; even Evelia shifted her weight, her eyes sharpening as she watched the threshold.
Xavion was not alone.
Several members of the Ostharian delegation followed behind him. They entered with the solemn expressions expected of people stepping into a foreign royal court, their eyes moving carefully across the throne room as they took in the ministers, guards, and gathered nobles.
Lioren did not care.
The entire Ostharian delegation could have marched in carrying a dragon, three chests of gold, and a declaration of war, and Lioren would have politely dealt with all of it later.
His gaze locked onto the blue-haired prince and stayed there.
Xavion walked into the throne room with the quiet, effortless grace of a man who had been raised in imperial halls, despite the heavy chains of defeat weighing down his shoulders. His long, blue hair fell over his tunic in neat, silky strands, contrasting sharply against the dark leather eyepatch that secured the right side of his face. His posture was straight, his chin lifted, his single, deep violet eye sweeping over the tall pillars and assembled nobles with absolute, stoic calm.
His gaze tracked down the long crimson carpet, moving past the guards, past the ministers, past the throne...
And settled directly on Lioren.
Standing in the middle of the hall, the Grand Duke of Werestia hardly resembled the terrifying warlord who had conquered entire provinces. The instant their eyes met, whatever intimidating dignity Lioren had been carrying seemed to vanish. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes practically lit up, and a huge grin broke across his face as though someone had just handed him the greatest gift in the world.
Xavion continued down the carpet until he stood only a short distance away.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Lioren’s grin softened into something warmer as he looked at the prince he had come all this way to collect.
"Nice to see you again, Prince Xavion."