A mother’s love

"That could've gone worse," Julian remarked as he leaned casually against a chair. "At least he didn't demand you marry before leaving the hall."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "That's probably coming tomorrow."

Cassian, ever the more disciplined of the two, remained standing near the door, his arms crossed. "You expected it. You should also expect that your brothers will seize the opportunity to corner you at some point."

Rowan sighed and moved toward the small table near the window, pouring himself a glass of wine. "That, too, is inevitable. But let's not waste time talking about them." He turned, resting his back against the table as he regarded his two closest allies. "How are things in the capital? Any trouble while we were away?"

Julian smirked. "The usual. Political games, merchants trying to curry favor, and nobles whispering about how un-princely you are."

"Hardly news," Rowan muttered.

Cassian's sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly. "There have been some disturbances near the western borders. Nothing alarming yet, but I'll look into it while you're here."

Rowan nodded, trusting Cassian's judgment. The knight was not just his sworn protector—he was a strategist, a man who had saved Rowan's life more times than he could count.

Julian, on the other hand, had been with Rowan since they were children. A former noble who had turned his back on politics, Julian had chosen to follow Rowan's path rather than be shackled by expectations. He had a way with people, gathering information as easily as breathing. If there was something worth knowing, Julian would find out.

As Rowan studied the two men, he allowed himself a brief moment of gratitude. In a world where loyalty was rare, he had found two who had never faltered.

_________

Vivianne Solmere had never cared much for courtly gossip, but she had certainly heard the whispers.

The Fourth Prince, still unmarried. Still unburdened by duty. Still running off to foreign lands like a man with nothing to tie him down.

She knew what they said about her son, but she had long since learned to ignore them. Rowan was her child, her pride, and she would love him no matter what path he chose.

Even if that path meant she would have to drag him kicking and screaming into marriage.

With a quiet sigh, she adjusted the sheer outer robe draped over her shoulders and stepped out of her chambers, making her way down the dimly lit halls of the palace. The air was cooler at this hour, the scent of evening incense faint in the distance. Servants bowed as she passed, their eyes averted in respect. She paid them little mind, her thoughts already on Rowan.

She hadn't seen him in so long, not properly. The brief, formal exchange in the throne room earlier wasn't enough. She wanted to look at him, talk to him, see if this life of constant adventure had changed him in ways even a mother's love couldn't mend.

As she reached his door, she noticed it was slightly ajar. She was about to announce herself when she caught the low murmur of voices from within.

"Hold still," came Julian's voice, his tone laced with amusement.

"I am holding still," Rowan muttered, his voice equally hushed.

Vivianne's eyebrows lifted slightly as she stepped forward, peering through the crack in the door.

Inside, Julian was helping Rowan with the ties of his nightshirt, fingers working deftly as Rowan stood with his arms slightly raised, his expression one of mild impatience. It was a familiar scene—one that spoke of long-standing closeness, the kind of bond that required no formalities.

Vivianne lingered in the doorway, her arms crossing as she watched, one eyebrow slowly arching.

Julian, ever sharp-eyed, was the first to notice her. He glanced up mid-adjustment and, upon seeing her, grinned. "Your Majesty."

Rowan blinked before turning, his hands dropping to his sides. "Mother."

Vivianne tilted her head, lips twitching in amusement. "Well, well. I seem to have walked in on quite the intimate moment."

Julian chuckled as he stepped back, adjusting the cuffs of his own sleeves. "I'll take that as my cue to leave."

Vivianne placed a gentle hand on his arm as he passed, her gaze soft. "How are you, Julian?"

He smiled at her, the warmth between them evident. "As well as one can be in this nest of vipers."

Vivianne laughed lightly. "You've always been clever."

Julian gave her a small bow before slipping out, leaving mother and son alone.

Vivianne turned back to Rowan, sauntering toward a nearby chair and settling into it with effortless grace. She rested her chin on her hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, my dear son… no wonder you refuse to marry. You already have such a devoted companion tending to your needs."

Rowan groaned. "Mother."

"What? It's a fair observation." She smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were hiding a secret love affair."

He exhaled dramatically, rubbing a hand down his face. "Clearly, I should have hidden it better."

Vivianne laughed, her features softening as she gazed at him. "Rowan, my darling boy, you know I don't care who you choose. Man or woman, noble or commoner, none of it matters to me. You will always have my love, no matter what others say."

Rowan chuckled, shaking his head. "It was a joke, Mother. You don't have to worry."

But Vivianne, being Vivianne, did not let go so easily. She studied him, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Julian is a good man."

Rowan let out an incredulous laugh. "Mother—"

"Oh, don't you 'Mother' me," she cut in smoothly. "You know how much I adore him. He's charming, intelligent, loyal. And he clearly adores you."

Rowan smirked, resting a hip against the table. "You do realize you've spent years trying to set me up with noble ladies, and now you're changing tactics?"

Vivianne shrugged elegantly. "Perhaps I've realized I was going about it all wrong. Maybe the right person has been beside you all along, and you're too busy chasing the horizon to see it."

Rowan exhaled, shaking his head, but the amusement in his eyes didn't fade. "Mother, you never cease to amaze me."

Vivianne sighed dramatically, leaning back. "I just worry about you, Rowan. Your age-mates are married with children. I know you're not like the others, and I don't want to pressure you, but…" She met his gaze, her expression gentle. "I want you to have someone who is yours. Someone who will be there when you decide to stop running."

Rowan's smile softened. "I know."

Vivianne settled into the chair, the earlier teasing faded into something gentler. She studied Rowan in the dim candlelight, her expression softening.

Rowan, ever perceptive, caught the shift. "Something on your mind?"

Vivianne sighed lightly, adjusting the folds of her robe. "Just wondering how my children are faring. You, in particular, seem determined to avoid the capital for as long as humanly possible."

He smirked. "You make it sound like I'm a fugitive."

"If the boot fits," she said dryly, then leaned forward slightly. "But truly, Rowan, do you ever think about staying?"

Rowan exhaled through his nose, choosing not to answer directly. Instead, he countered, "How are my brothers?"

Vivianne hummed, as if debating how much to say. "Alistair is as rigid as ever, but that should come as no surprise."

Rowan chuckled. "No, it really shouldn't."

"He is thorough, though," she admitted. "Hadrian's tutors already say he is exceeding expectations, and Lilia… well, she is growing into quite the little princess."

"I'm sure Evelyne makes sure of that," Rowan mused.

Vivianne gave him a knowing look. "You know how she is. Courtly grace above all."

Rowan didn't doubt it. Princess Evelyne Vaelmont had been raised for court life, groomed to be the perfect queen since birth. Her influence over Alistair's household was undeniable. Rowan had no doubt Hadrian and Lilia were being molded into precise, strategic figures before they were old enough to truly understand their roles.

Vivianne seemed to sense his thoughts because she added, "Lilia adores you, you know."

That got a smile out of him. "She always did have good taste."

Vivianne shook her head in amusement before moving on. "Lucian's family is… softer, I suppose."

Rowan raised an eyebrow. "Softer?"

"You know how Mariana is," she said. "Warm. Affectionate. She insists on raising Cedric and Elise herself, rather than leaving it entirely to the governesses. It's different from Alistair's household. A contrast."

Rowan nodded slowly. "And how does Alistair see that?"

Vivianne gave him a look. "How do you think? He believes Lucian is too lenient."

Of course, he does. Rowan refrained from rolling his eyes. "And Gareth?"

Vivianne's lips pursed slightly. "He is still hunting for the most beneficial match."

"Typical."

"He's being careful," Vivianne corrected. "He doesn't just want a powerful alliance; he wants the best one. He's biding his time."

Rowan rubbed his jaw, mulling over the information. His brothers had always been different in their approaches—Alistair, the perfect heir, focused on duty above all else; Lucian, the diplomat, balancing politics with a genuine care for his family; and Gareth, the ambitious one, who wanted a perfect future of his own design.

And then there was him. The wandering prince, the one who rarely stayed long enough to be tied to anything.

Vivianne watched him closely before she spoke again. "You should spend time with them while you're here."

Rowan smirked. "Alistair and I would last five minutes before arguing."

"You could start with Lilia," Vivianne suggested. "She's been looking forward to your return. She was asking me just yesterday when you'd come back."

Something in Rowan's expression softened. "I'll visit her tomorrow."

Vivianne smiled in satisfaction. "Good. At least one person in this palace makes you sentimental."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Don't push your luck."

Vivianne leaned back, studying her son for a long moment. "You know, for someone who claims not to be tied down, you do have people who care about you here."

Rowan met her gaze, and for once, he didn't have a witty retort.

Vivianne sighed, shaking her head fondly. "Just think about it, Rowan."

"I always do," he said, though even he wasn't sure what exactly he meant by that.

Vivianne let it go for now. With one last squeeze of his hand, she rose gracefully. "Goodnight, my son."

"Goodnight, Mother."

And with that, she left him to his thoughts.