Will You Recognize Them?

Lara had long been gone, yet Alaric's gaze remained fixed on the door as if sheer will alone could summon her return. Shadows flickered in his eyes, a silent yearning buried beneath his stoic facade.

When Agilus entered, carrying a steaming bowl of fish soup and a pomegranate, he found the prince sitting in eerie stillness, lost in thought.

"Alaric, why do I get the feeling that the way you look at Kane is... different?" Agilus asked, setting the tray down. He narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me—you like him? Is that why you've never touched your concubines?"

Alaric's head snapped up, his sharp, obsidian eyes cutting through Agilus like a blade.

 "Alright, alright, no need to glare holes through me." Agilus raised his hands in the air.

Ignoring him, Alaric reached for the small folded parchment Lara had handed him before she left. He unfolded it carefully.

It was a map.