The next day, the royal gardens rang with laughter.
Lucien darted ahead first, his steps light on the gravel, while Elen tried to keep up, calling after him with mock outrage. Leya followed with more dignity—or at least she tried until Elias, without warning, lifted her effortlessly with a flick of telekinesis and set her on the branch of a tree. She yelped, grabbed the bark, and glared down at him as the boys burst out laughing.
"You can't just—do that!" she protested, but the corner of her lips betrayed a smile.
Elias looked up, serene as always. "Balance training."
"Balance training?!"
Her indignation was cut off when she noticed the king approaching.
King Renard was dressed simply, without his crown, just a man in his twenties strolling with the ease of someone who had nothing to prove. His gaze, however, was sharp and lingering—especially when it settled on Lucien.
"You've grown bold," Renard said softly, crouching down in front of the boy. "That stare of yours… reminds me of someone I once knew."
Lucien didn't flinch. He folded his arms and tilted his head, the picture of stubborn calm. "You mean Elias."
Renard chuckled, ruffling his hair before Lucien could stop him. "Yes. Exactly that."
Lucien tried to swat his hand away, but Renard only laughed harder. Elias, leaning against a tree with arms crossed, watched the exchange with an unreadable look, half-guarded, half-resigned.
Later, when the children scattered to play hide-and-seek among the hedges, Renard and Elias walked side by side along the path.
"You still carry it," Renard murmured. "That dream of hers."
Elias didn't look at him. "She wanted to be a teacher. To give children a future outside blood and steel."
Something flickered in the king's eyes—sharp, burning, almost unhinged. "And yet here we are, still surrounded by blood and steel." He laughed bitterly. "If I had known then what I know now, Elias… if I had been there when that man—"
"Enough." Elias's voice cut quietly, but it carried weight. "Nothing happened. If he had touched me, I would have chosen death over dishonor. But he did not. Do not waste your anger on ghosts."
Renard clenched his jaw, fists tight, but Elias's calm steadied him in a way no one else could.
"Sixth," Elias said suddenly, shifting the subject.
Renard blinked. "What?"
"I am sixth now. Soon to be fifth."
Renard's eyes narrowed. "You can't just climb the rankings like you're counting steps on a staircase—"
"I can," Elias replied flatly.
A silence fell, broken only by the chirp of birds. Then Renard laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "You never change. Always rushing ahead, leaving the rest of us scrambling behind."
Elias gave him a sidelong glance. "Don't give me work, then."
Renard's brows rose. "You're saying that to your king?"
Elias's tone didn't waver. "I'm saying that to my brother."
For the first time that day, the weight in Renard's expression eased. He exhaled, half a sigh, half a laugh. "Infuriating as ever."
---
Two weeks passed like that—days of laughter in the gardens, quiet meals where the children teased Elias without fear, nights where Renard lingered too long in their company, reluctant to let them go.
Lucien, especially, began to soften in ways Elias hadn't expected. The boy, once so guarded, was drawn toward Renard's warmth despite himself, sitting closer at dinner, listening when the king spoke, even allowing himself to laugh at his jokes.
Elen adored the grand halls and secret passages of the palace, while Leya discovered she liked the view from the tower balconies, pretending she was surveying her own domain.
Renard held them there, deliberately or not, weaving them into his daily life until three weeks had slipped by.
The evening before his departure, Elias gathered them in the chamber overlooking the palace gardens. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of late blooms, the setting sun painting everything in shades of amber.
"I'll be leaving tomorrow," he said simply, the same way he might announce the weather. "There's someone I must see."
Three pairs of eyes locked on him instantly.
"Someone?" Elen leaned forward, suspicion sharp in his tone. "Don't tell me—another she?"
Leya's eyes narrowed. "First Lea, now… who? You've been hiding a lot from us, Elias."
Lucien stayed silent, but his gaze was steady, piercing, as if demanding the answer without words.
Elias didn't flinch beneath their scrutiny. "Her name is Nia. She is an old friend."
That only made it worse.
"A friend?" Elen almost yelped. "Since when do you have secret childhood friends?"
Leya crossed her arms, lips pressing into a thin line. "And you never thought to mention her before now?"
Lucien finally spoke, his tone deceptively calm. "So. First a warrior you saved on the battlefield. Now a childhood friend. How many more are waiting in the shadows, Elias?"
The heat in his words drew out a small laugh from Elen. "Yeah! Are there ten more? Twenty? A secret army of girls who all adore you?"
Elias exhaled softly, a sound that was not quite a sigh, not quite amusement. His calm gaze swept over them. "Nia is not like that. Her father is sick. I am going to see her."
Leya pounced on the one word. "Sick? So now you're going to play healer too?" But her voice wavered, betraying the crack in her composure.
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Lucien pressed, eyes darkening with something deeper—fear, jealousy, the sharp sting of being left behind.
Elias paused, letting the silence settle before answering. "Because it wasn't time yet. Because it is not about me. It is about her."
That quiet firmness should have ended the matter. But Elen, never content, slumped back with a dramatic groan. "First Lea. Now Nia. What's next? Are we going to meet your mystery wife too?"
Leya flushed at the word, glaring daggers at him. "Don't joke like that!" she snapped. Then, softer, eyes flicking back to Elias: "…Unless it's true?"
Lucien said nothing, but when Elias looked at him, the boy's ears betrayed him—pink against his otherwise impassive face.
For a long moment, Elias said nothing at all, only regarding them with that calm, unreadable gaze. Then, slowly, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing theirs one by one, just as he had before.
"You are my children," he said quietly. "That will not change—no matter who else I meet."
The words landed with weight, but the fire in their eyes didn't dim.
Elen muttered, "We'll see."
Leya's lips pressed together. "She'd better not think she can take you from us."
And Lucien, though silent, leaned just slightly closer, as if by proximity alone he could stake his claim.
Elias only closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. Calm. Patient. Unmoved. But somewhere behind that serenity, something unspoken stirred.
---