Chapter 48
From the stone balcony high above the gardens, Elias stood silently behind the half-drawn curtain, the wind tugging lightly at his cloak. His eyes followed the small boy dashing into Alistair's arms, the warmth in Alistair's smile, the ease with which he rested beside Jasmine, his hand over her belly like it belonged there.
It did belong there.
Jasmine had grown even more beautiful in pregnancy—serene, regal, and clever. She had secured her place not just at Alistair's side, but in his world.
Elias said nothing as he turned away from the window.
He had not spoken much to Alistair in the past months, not beyond the necessary exchanges. There was no confrontation. No great ending. Just… distance. A quiet unraveling that had begun long ago and now lay complete.
He remembered when that hand—so tender now on Jasmine's stomach—had once brushed through his hair. When that smile was only for him.
But time had passed. The child had come. Another on the way. And Elias, once the prince's shadow, had learned to fade without being told.
In the halls, he still walked with purpose. In court, he held his head high. But behind closed doors, behind that ever-loyal mask, was a silence that grew louder each day.
He did not hate Jasmine. In truth, he had come to respect her. She loved Alistair differently than Elias had, but no less deeply. And Alistair… he had chosen.
The hardest part was not the absence—it was the knowing that if Elias disappeared tomorrow, Alistair's life would go on. Full. Whole. Complete.
He pressed his forehead to the cold stone wall and closed his eyes.
Once, Alistair had said Elias was the only person who ever truly saw him. Now, Elias feared Alistair no longer looked at all.
---
The corridor was empty, save for the soft echo of boots across polished stone. Caven had come searching for Elias, though he hadn't meant to find him like this—pressed against the cold wall, his eyes shut, grief resting on his features like a second skin.
Caven stood a few steps away, uncertain whether to speak. The sight of Elias like this twisted something in him.
"You shouldn't be here," Elias said without turning.
Caven hesitated. "Forgive me, my ser. I… I saw you from the training court. I thought—" He stopped himself, unsure what exactly he had thought.
Elias opened his eyes, but didn't turn. "You thought right," he said softly. "I needed air."
Silence stretched between them, thick and quiet. Then Elias asked, still facing the wall, "Do you ever feel like something ended and you didn't notice until it was already too far gone?"
Caven swallowed, the pain in Elias's voice striking deeper than he wanted to admit. "Yes," he said. "All the time."
Finally, Elias turned his head, his eyes meeting Caven's. There was no fire there—just a tired sadness.
Caven took a step forward. "You don't have to stand in the cold alone."
"I've stood in worse."
"I know," Caven said quietly. "But still, you shouldn't."
For a moment, Elias studied him—really looked at him. And Caven could feel it, the way his heart beat a little faster under that gaze. Elias didn't speak, but something softened in his expression.
Caven stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough to let Elias know he was there.
Neither of them said a word.
Sometimes, silence was the only thing left.
---
Aethelgar
Hosea stood in his room, looking more mature, his features even starting to resemble his father's, Tommen. As he read the report from the shadow guard about someone picking up young girls in the kingdom, he instructed them to investigate further.
A knock came from the door, and a boyish voice called out, "Brother, are you in there?"
Hosea quickly hid the report and opened the door to find Raymar standing there. Raymar had grown taller, his eyes now a deep blue, taking after both Tommen and Hosea, but still has the face of his mother's.
"What took you so long?" Raymar asked, but Hosea didn't respond right away. Then, Raymar looked at Hosea with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Can I hide here for a while? I'm so sick and tired of those lessons," Raymar said, dropping his shoulders dramatically.
Hosea smiled faintly and bent down to Raymar's height, rubbing his head affectionately. "You need to know things if you want to be the Prince of Aethelgar," he said.
Raymar sighed. "Okay, I'll do anything brother wants me to do, but please, just today, let me stay here. I promise I'll do everything tomorrow."
"Alright," Hosea cut in with a small laugh. "Stay here, but don't make it a habit."
Raymar hurriedly sat down on Hosea's bed.
"Is your mother in the palace?" Hosea asked cautiously.
"No, she's not. Why do you ask, brother?" Raymar asked innocently.
Hosea simply replied, "Nothing," and then, after a pause, added, "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Raymar nodded, and Hosea slipped out of the room. He made his way to Esmeralda's quarters, not fully trusting her or her knowledge about his sister. He had a gnawing suspicion that she might know something, but he couldn't quite place what it was. He searched her room for any clues, but found none.
Just as he was about to leave, he overheard a couple of maids gossiping near the door. He quickly hid behind the wardrobe and waited for them to leave. As he almost turned to leave himself, a small box caught his eye. He bent down and opened it, finding a bundle of secret scrolls—ones clearly sent from Lord Malrik.
A smile tugged at Hosea's lips. He closed the box, took the scrolls, and quietly exited the room.