Chapter 4: Evren

The Great Hall was buzzing—nobles from every province seated in rows, council members lining the dais, and Kaelion standing beside Evren with his face locked in a mask of royal indifference.

Then the doors opened.

Prince Theron strode in with a confidence that drew every eye. Dressed in deep crimson and gold, his thorn insignia gleaming on his chest, he paused just long enough to scan the room—before locking eyes with Evren.

Evren shifted.

Kaelion noticed.

"Prince Theron of the Thorn Court," announced the steward.

"An ally of peace," Theron said smoothly, bowing just enough to be polite—never submissive. "Here to propose an accord that benefits both our kingdoms."

He walked right past Kaelion and offered his hand to Evren.

A hush fell.

Evren hesitated. The heat of Kaelion's stare was burning into the side of his face.

Then, slowly, he took Theron's hand.

Kaelion's jaw tightened.

Theron smiled like he'd just won the crown itself. "I'd like to request an audience with the bonded heir. Privately."

Before Evren could speak, Kaelion cut in. "Denied."

Gasps echoed. A few nobles exchanged glances.

Theron didn't flinch. "Is that how the united throne handles diplomacy? Caging your bonded?"

Kaelion stepped forward, calm but lethal. "Touch him again without permission, and we'll see how Thorn Court likes exile."

Theron smiled wider. "Spoken like a man afraid of being replaced."

Kaelion lunged before anyone could stop him, but Evren grabbed his wrist, holding him back. Their eyes locked.

"Not here," Evren said quietly. "Not like this."

Kaelion yanked his hand back and stormed out of the hall, the entire court now whispering like wildfire.

Theron leaned close to Evren and whispered, "You'll see. He can't protect you from everything."

Evren didn't move.

But something in his chest twisted.

Evren didn't chase Kaelion right away.

He stayed in the hall long enough to let the court see him calm—unshaken. But inside? Everything was twisted. Theron's words echoed like poison.

When he finally made his way to Kaelion's quarters, the guards stepped aside without a word. The doors were unlocked.

Kaelion stood near the window, cloak discarded, gloves on the table, his back rigid.

"You humiliated me," he said, voice flat.

Evren crossed his arms. "You embarrassed yourself. You lost control."

Kaelion turned slowly, eyes dark. "He touched you."

"And I stopped you from making it worse."

Silence cracked like lightning between them.

"Do you even care what this looks like to the court?" Kaelion asked. "They saw you hesitate."

Evren scoffed. "What was I supposed to do? Slap his hand in front of a hundred nobles?"

Kaelion stepped closer, gaze locked on his. "You were supposed to choose me."

Evren blinked.

Kaelion's voice dropped. "That's what this bond is. Or was I wrong to think you even cared what happens to me?"

Evren's jaw clenched. "This bond didn't come with instructions. You think just because we were forced together, I owe you everything?"

"I'm not asking for everything," Kaelion said quietly. "I'm asking for something real."

Evren stared at him—past the anger, past the titles, past the war in both their heads.

"You want something real?" he said, voice low. "Then stop hiding behind orders and jealousy and talk to me like I'm not a piece on your chessboard."

Kaelion's eyes flickered. Then he stepped back.

"I'll try," he said, voice rough. "But not tonight."

He turned away.

Evren didn't stop him.

But the space between them had never felt more complicated.

Or more charged.

The moon was high over the palace gardens, casting long shadows between the hedges. Evren didn't plan to meet Theron—not really. But when the note arrived under his door, sealed with a rose-shaped wax mark, curiosity got the better of him.

Come alone. No guards. Just truth. —T.

Stupid. Dangerous.

But Evren slipped out anyway.

He found Theron leaning against a marble pillar, looking far too comfortable in enemy territory.

"Is this how Thorn Court handles diplomacy?" Evren asked, arms crossed.

Theron smiled lazily. "Only when the usual methods don't work."

Evren didn't move closer. "What do you want?"

"You," Theron said simply.

Evren blinked.

Theron stepped forward. "Not like Kaelion wants you. He sees a partner for his throne. I see a weapon the council underestimates. A prince who could start or end a war depending on how he smiles."

Evren frowned. "That sounds more like control than interest."

Theron chuckled. "Then maybe I want both."

Before Evren could reply, the sound of footsteps made them freeze.

"Evren."

Kaelion's voice.

He stepped out from the shadows behind the hedge, expression unreadable, golden eyes burning.

Evren stepped back from Theron instinctively.

Theron just smiled, calm as ever. "We were just talking."

Kaelion didn't answer him. His eyes were on Evren alone.

And it wasn't anger.

It was hurt.

"You left your chambers without telling anyone," Kaelion said tightly. "Again."

"I didn't think I needed permission."

"You don't," he said. "But you could've told me."

Evren swallowed. "I didn't think you cared."

Kaelion looked at him for a long moment, then turned and walked away.

This time, Evren wanted to follow.

But he didn't.

---

The air in the palace felt colder the next day.

Evren hadn't seen Kaelion since the garden. He expected rage. Fury. Even an ambush in the council chamber.

But Kaelion didn't show.

Not for the strategy meeting.

Not for the morning patrol review.

Not even for meals.

By nightfall, Evren had enough. He stormed toward the training grounds, where the distant clang of metal echoed through the night.

There he was—Kaelion, shirt damp with sweat, blades sparking against a wooden target like he was trying to break something more than just wood.

"Still brooding?" Evren called.

Kaelion didn't stop.

"Seriously?" Evren stepped onto the sand. "You're mad at me for not being your lapdog?"

Kaelion dropped the blade. "You think that's what this is about?"

Evren crossed his arms. "Then what?"

Kaelion turned, voice sharp. "You trusted him. You went to him. After everything."

"I didn't trust him," Evren snapped. "I went because he's dangerous, and I need to know why he's here—what he wants."

"He wants you."

"So do you," Evren shot back. "But at least he says it."

Silence.

Kaelion's eyes burned into his. "You want words, Evren? Fine. I want you. I want you safe. I want you close. But not because of the bond. Not because it's duty. Because you're—"

He stopped himself.

Evren stared at him, breath uneven.

Kaelion stepped back. "But you won't believe me. Not until I bleed for it."

"Then don't bleed," Evren whispered. "Just… stay."

Kaelion didn't move.

Evren looked away first. "We're not ready. You and me. Not yet."

Kaelion nodded once, slowly. "Then I'll wait. But I won't let him have you."

Evren turned away, heart hammering, pretending he didn't want to believe him already.

Evren woke to pounding on his door.

Not palace guards. Not his handmaiden.

It was Riven, Kaelion's closest warrior.

"Dress. Now," Riven barked. "There's been an attack. Border outpost's gone dark."

Evren's blood ran cold.

Fifteen minutes later, he was armored and on horseback, riding beside Kaelion through the forest mist. The tension between them hadn't thawed, but war had a way of forcing silence.

When they reached the outpost, the smoke told the story—burned banners, shattered gates, blood in the snow.

"What the hell…" Evren whispered.

Kaelion walked ahead, face unreadable. His voice was steel. "Thorn Court did this."

Evren's eyes snapped to him. "How do you know?"

Kaelion held up a small, glass vial with a crimson liquid swirling inside. "This is laced fire. Illegal in every court but theirs. Whoever did this wanted to leave a message."

"Or start a war."

Kaelion turned to him. "It's already started."

A flicker of pain crossed Evren's face. "I thought… maybe if I kept talking to Theron—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Kaelion snapped.

Evren bit his lip. "You still think I'm some foolish royal?"

Kaelion didn't answer. Instead, he walked into the ashes of the outpost and knelt beside a body. One of their own.

Young. Barely trained.

Evren came beside him quietly.

"They're testing us," Kaelion muttered. "Poking holes in our armor before they strike for real."

Evren placed a hand on Kaelion's shoulder.

He didn't shrug it off.

They stayed like that for a moment, not quite allies, not quite enemies, bound together by blood and politics, but not yet by trust.

When Kaelion finally stood, he looked at Evren and said quietly, "I don't care if you hate me, Evren. But don't give them what they want."

Evren stared at him. "And what do they want?"

Kaelion's jaw tightened. "You."

Three days after the outpost attack, the palace hosted a diplomatic summit.

A disaster waiting to happen.

Evren knew it was a trap—but the crown demanded presence, and Kaelion, for once, was silent. Cold. Distant. Watching from the shadows like a predator waiting for blood.

And then, Theron arrived.

No armor. No guards.

Just confidence.

He strolled into the marble hall, wine-red robes dragging slightly behind him, eyes locking on Evren as if no one else in the room existed.

"My prince," he said, bowing low with a smirk. "You look… tired."

Evren didn't flinch. "Funny. You look like betrayal dipped in velvet."

Theron laughed softly. "We all wear masks, don't we?"

Evren stepped closer, tone hushed. "What do you want, Theron?"

Theron didn't blink. "You."

Kaelion's voice sliced through the tension.

"He's not yours to want."

Everyone froze.

Kaelion stepped from the shadows, boots echoing on marble, face unreadable. "Touch him again without consent, and I will consider it an act of war."

Theron's eyes glittered. "You speak like a man in love."

Kaelion smiled—but it didn't reach his eyes. "I speak like a commander who knows what's his to protect."

Evren stood between them, heart racing.

This wasn't about romance. Not yet.

But the line between duty and desire was starting to blur—and everyone could feel it.