Morning light streamed into the council chamber as the King summoned his sons and advisors. His voice was weaker than before, yet the weight of his words could still move the kingdom.
"It is decided," he declared, his tone final. "For the strength of Eryndor, Lady Elswyth shall wed Prince Athelric, my heir."
The nobles bowed, murmuring their approval. The Queen smiled faintly, though her eyes betrayed unease.
Athelric bowed low, satisfaction gleaming in his gaze. To him, this was not merely a marriage—it was triumph, another step toward the crown that already seemed to rest upon his brow.
Caedmon kept his face impassive, though inside, his heart split. He felt Elswyth's gaze upon him from across the chamber, her eyes wide with quiet despair. In that fleeting glance, he understood: she loved him too. And fate had just bound her to his brother.
When the chamber emptied, Caedmon lingered. His father noticed. "You are troubled, my son."
"Should I not be, when my heart is weighed against politics?" Caedmon asked, his voice sharp.
The King's expression hardened. "You are a prince, Caedmon. Your heart is not your own. It belongs to Eryndor."
Caedmon bowed stiffly and left. Yet in his heart, a dangerous seed had been planted—a refusal to accept the chains of duty.