chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

The gates of Aethelgar loomed ahead, bathed in the dim glow of torches as night settled over the city. Hosea rode through, his expression unreadable, his cloak dusted from days of travel. The moment he passed the palace gates, the tension in the air was palpable. Servants hurried out of his path, and guards exchanged uneasy glances before one rushed inside to announce his return.

He barely had time to remove his gloves before the doors to the great hall swung open with force.

"Where have you been?" Tommen's voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade. He stood in the center of the hall, fists clenched, his green eyes burning with fury.

Hosea met his father's gaze with cold indifference. "I had matters to attend to."

Tommen took a step forward. "Matters? You disappeared without a word, and you return without explanation? You think yourself untouchable?" His voice dropped, dangerous now. "Did you ever consider how your absence might be used against me?"

Hosea remained composed, his voice steady. "I had no intention of making myself a weakness to you."

"And yet you did," Tommen snapped. "My enemies watch my every move, waiting for a moment of weakness. And you gave it to them! A missing prince is a perfect excuse for whispers of rebellion. Or worse-leverage."

Hosea did not flinch. "If your enemies are bold enough to think they could use me against you, perhaps that speaks more of their confidence in your position."

Tommen's eyes darkened. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You think this is a game?"

Before Hosea could respond, Esmeralda's voice slid into the space between them.

"Your Majesty," she murmured, stepping forward with the grace of a queen. "The boy has always been reckless. But disappearing at such a crucial time?" She turned her gaze to Hosea, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "One cannot help but wonder if he was seeking something... or someone."

Tommen's jaw tightened. He turned his gaze back to Hosea. "Do not think I am a fool. I will not tolerate disobedience, nor will I allow you to become a weapon in the hands of my enemies."

Hosea inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "If I were your enemy, Father, I would have already won."

A tense silence stretched between them.

Esmeralda let out a soft chuckle, watching Tommen's grip tighten. "Such confidence," she mused. "But even the sharpest blade can break if it is struck in the right place."

Tommen's rage burned, but he said nothing more. Hosea, with a stiff bow, turned and left the hall without another word.

As the heavy doors shut behind him, Tommen exhaled sharply, his thoughts in turmoil.

Esmeralda stepped beside him, lowering her voice. "He is his mother's son, after all."

Tommen said nothing. But in his silence, doubt festered.

---

The warm glow of the hearth cast flickering shadows against the stone walls of the Grendy household. The tension in the air was thick, pressing down like an impending storm. General Grendy stood near the wooden table, his arms crossed over his broad chest, while Adam sat, his expression hard, his hands resting on his thighs. Lady Elena lingered nearby, her gaze darting between father and son, her lips pressed into a thin line of worry.

"You will join the knights," Grendy said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Adam's jaw tightened. "No."

Grendy's brows furrowed. "Do not be foolish, boy. The knights take no wives, inherit nothing. It is the only path left for you if you wish to avoid disgrace."

Adam's gaze darkened. "Disgrace?"

Grendy stepped closer, his tone lowering. "Do you not understand the weight of what you are doing? She is betrothed to the Prince of Aethelgar. The council will never allow her to marry anyone else." His eyes bore into Adam's, sharp as a blade. "Even if she does not want the union, if Aethelgar demands it, it will happen. Mathias does not have the power to refuse them."

Adam scoffed, shaking his head. "And you would have me run from this? From her?"

"I would have you survive," Grendy snapped. His hands gripped the back of a chair, the wood groaning under the pressure. "If this were to come to light, what do you think will happen? Do you think the court will look upon you kindly? That the king will risk war for your sake?" He exhaled sharply. "No. They will break you, Adam. And there will be nothing I can do to stop it."

Adam's fingers curled into fists. "So you would have me throw away everything? Take an oath to the knights and live my life in service, never to have a family, never to love her?"

Grendy's voice was cold. "It is better than losing your life."

Adam stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "Then you do not know me, Father. I will not kneel before fate and accept what others have decided for me."

Grendy's lips pressed into a thin line. "Has becoming a knight not always been your dream?"

Adam's chest rose and fell heavily, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "Not anymore."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding. Lady Elena stepped forward, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Grendy, please."

Grendy inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving his son. "Then you are a fool," he said at last, his voice quieter but no less firm. "And you will learn the cost of it soon enough."

With that, he turned and left the room, the weight of his words lingering in the air.

Lady Elena sighed, placing a gentle hand on Adam's shoulder. "You are strong-willed, my son. But even the strongest must know when to yield."

Adam shook his head. "Not when it comes to her."

Lady Elena gave him a sad smile, but said nothing more. The flames in the hearth crackled, filling the silence between them.

Raventhorn

The sun hung low over Raventhorn, casting long shadows across the chaotic streets. Within the worn stone halls of the outpost, Prince Alistair stood at the head of a large wooden table, a map spread before him. The room was filled with the low murmur of voices-knights and captains discussing strategy, plans forming between them like a battlefield laid bare.

Elias stood at the side, arms crossed, waiting for Alistair's gaze to find him. It never did.

Time and time again, he had tried. A comment here, a suggestion there-only to be overlooked, his voice drowned beneath the weight of more seasoned men.

"The best route would be through the eastern pass," one knight proposed.

Elias cleared his throat. "Or, if we approach from the west, we could use the cliffs to our advantage-"

Alistair moved past him as though he hadn't spoken, addressing another knight instead.

Elias clenched his jaw. One of the knights beside him shifted uneasily, exchanging a glance with another. They had noticed.

Alistair gave his final orders, rolling the map and turning on his heel. Elias, unable to hold back any longer, stepped forward, only for a hand to grasp his arm.

"What did you do to anger the prince?" the knight beside him asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Elias tore his arm free, forcing a smirk to mask the frustration burning beneath his skin. "Nothing," he said and strode after Alistair.

The halls were dimly lit, the scent of old parchment and burning tallow filling the air. As he neared Alistair's chamber, laughter rang out from within-light and unrestrained. Jasmine.

Elias stilled.

For a long moment, he did nothing, only listening.

Then the door opened, and Jasmine stepped out, stopping abruptly when she saw him. Surprise flickered across her face before it smoothed into something unreadable.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," she said lightly.

Elias turned to leave, but she reached out, catching his wrist. "Come in," she urged. "I was just leaving."

Her smile was small-polite. But to Elias, it felt like a taunt.

Jasmine stepped aside, and he entered. The heavy door shut behind him with a dull thud.

Alistair sat at the table, his attention fixed on the maps and letters before him. He did not look up.

"Make this quick," he said, voice devoid of warmth. "I have things to do."

Elias swallowed and stepped closer, crouching beside him. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Alistair did not acknowledge him.

Elias hesitated, then reached out and grasped Alistair's hand. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time, his voice breaking.

At last, Alistair looked down at him, expression unreadable.

"You don't get to do something like that and cry a few tears, Elias," he said, pulling his hand away. "I have work to do."

The cold dismissal sent something sharp through Elias' chest. Before he could think, he lunged forward, capturing Alistair's lips in a desperate, forceful kiss.

Alistair shoved him back instantly, breath ragged.

Elias stumbled but steadied himself, moving toward the bed and sitting at its edge. His hands clenched into fists as he looked up, meeting Alistair's stormy gaze.

"So this is the end," Elias said, voice quiet.

Alistair snapped.

"For goodness' sake, you always have to make everything about you, Elias! Have you ever thought about how I feel? You always play the victim-what about me? I am so sick of your tantrums!" His voice echoed off the stone walls, heavy with anger, frustration-something deeper, something unspoken.

Elias did not react. He only sat there, watching.

Then, in a voice softer than before, he whispered, "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable."

He stood to leave, but before he could take a step, Alistair grabbed him, yanking him back.

Their lips crashed together, this time not in desperation but in fury. Alistair's grip was tight, fingers digging into Elias' skin as he pushed him back against the table, taking everything from him with rough, unrelenting force.

Elias gasped against his mouth, fingers twisting into Alistair's tunic. There was no gentleness, no hesitation-only the weight of everything unsaid pouring into every heated touch, every bite of lips, every bruising press of hands against bodies.

Alistair pulled away only to push Elias back again, claiming his mouth once more, as if anger and desire had blurred into one.

And Elias let him.

The chamber was dim, lit only by a single flickering candle on the wooden table. The scent of wax and parchment lingered in the air, mingling with something heavier-something unspoken.

Elias barely had time to react before Alistair's mouth was on his again, bruising and demanding. There was no hesitation, no restraint-only raw, unfiltered need. Alistair's grip was iron, his fingers twisting in Elias' tunic as he pushed him back against the table. Scrolls and maps crumpled beneath them, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Elias gasped, his back arching as Alistair's weight pressed against him. The prince's hands roamed with the same fury that burned in his voice, gripping Elias as though to punish him, to remind him that he was not the one in control here.

"You think you can do as you please?" Alistair growled against his lips, his breath hot against Elias' skin. "Disrespect me, defy me, and then cry for my forgiveness?"

Elias clenched his fists, his head tilting back as Alistair's lips trailed down his jaw, biting at his throat with barely restrained aggression.

"You always do this," Alistair continued, voice rough, his hands tightening around Elias' wrists as he pinned them above his head. "You push, you pull, you demand, and then you crumble when it does not go your way."

Elias' breath hitched, his pulse racing beneath Alistair's grasp. "And you never let yourself feel," he shot back, his voice trembling between defiance and surrender. "You ignore me, cast me aside, and pretend none of it matters-"

Alistair silenced him with another fierce kiss, devouring, punishing.

Elias writhed beneath him, matching his fire with his own, his fingers finally breaking free to grasp at Alistair's tunic, pulling him closer.

For all the anger, for all the resentment between them, the space between their bodies burned with something neither could deny. It was not gentle, not tender-this was a battle, a war waged in whispered gasps and unrelenting touch.

Alistair tore his lips away, his chest rising and falling with ragged breath. He stared down at Elias, eyes dark, searching-perhaps for control, perhaps for something already lost.

Elias reached up, brushing his fingers over Alistair's cheek. "Do you hate me so much?" he whispered.

Alistair closed his eyes briefly before exhaling sharply. "I hate that you make me weak," he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur.

Elias smirked faintly, his own hand tightening around the fabric of Alistair's tunic. "Then stop pretending you don't want this," he murmured.

A storm flickered behind Alistair's gaze, but he did not speak. Instead, he crushed their lips together once more, dragging Elias against him, losing himself in the only thing he could not control.

The candle sputtered, its flame dancing wildly before steadying again, casting their shadows against the stone walls-locked in battle, bound by something neither could name.

---

Elias woke to an empty bed, the cold sheets beside him a cruel reminder of the night before. He turned, wincing as soreness coursed through his body. For a moment, he allowed himself the foolish hope that Alistair had simply risen early, that he would return.

But the truth was bitter. Alistair had already left, slipping away before the sun had risen, as if nothing had happened.

Gritting his teeth, Elias forced himself upright, dragging a hand through his disheveled hair. His mind warred between fury and longing, but he already knew how the day would unfold-Alistair would ignore him, carrying on as if their night together had been nothing more than a passing storm.

And when Elias finally stepped out into the morning light, he saw exactly that.

Alistair stood with his men, his expression calm, composed-untouched by what had passed between them. When Elias approached, his presence was met with nothing more than a fleeting glance before Alistair turned away, speaking to another knight as though Elias was no more important than the dust beneath his boots.

Elias clenched his fists.

It was always like this. Passion in the dark, indifference in the light.

But this time, something burned in Elias' chest-a quiet, dangerous thought.

How much longer could he endure this?.