The heavy doors of the king's chamber closed behind Alaric with a dull thud. Outside, the queen consort's face stiffened with barely contained fury. It was humiliating. Even she, the legally wedded queen of the realm, was barred from entering, yet the crown prince was welcomed without hesitation. Her lips curled, and with a sharp rustle of silk, she turned and stormed away — leaving Caelum standing motionless in the corridor.
His expression was unreadable, a blank mask polished over years of necessity. Only the subtle clench of his jaw showed his displeasure before he too retreated in silence.
Inside, the royal physician stepped back after checking the king's pulse.
"His Majesty's condition has worsened," he admitted gravely.
The king scowled, turning away with a dismissive wave. "Nonsense. I am fine."
He punctuated the declaration by breaking into a harsh cough, gripping the sheets with trembling hands. Alaric stepped forward, concern flickering in his eyes, but the king cut off the physician before he could speak again.
"Leave us."
The doctors and attendants bowed and exited, leaving father and son alone in the lamplit chamber.
Only when the doors shut did Alaric speak.
"Father… how bad is it really?"
The king didn't answer. Instead, he examined Alaric with sharp, assessing eyes honed from decades on the throne.
"You have accomplished much," he began slowly, voice gravelly. "You have negotiated a peace that even the ministers did not believe possible. But I hear," he narrowed his gaze, "that lately you are distracted… by matters of no real importance."
Alaric's eyes hardened. "That matter is more important than the throne."
The king's expression chilled instantly.
"The throne must be your priority!" he snapped. "Your position is not secure — the queen consort and her faction plot daily. And your brother—"
"You still distrust Caelum that much?"
The king scoffed. "Of course I do. He is the queen consort's son. The son of a woman I should never have taken as second wife,a consort.Sons inherit from their mothers — an apple does not fall far from the tree."
Alaric released a slow breath. "You have hated him since we were children. But you never gave him a chance. If you would only speak to him openly—"
The king slammed his palm weakly against the armrest. "I will not waste time indulging the offspring of that woman! I despise everything connected to her — her family, her bloodline, her faction."
Alaric's brows knit. "And yet Lucien is an exception?"
The king paused. For once, there was no bitterness in his voice.
"Lucien proved himself. He is capable, loyal to the crown, and useful. Competence matters more than blood."
So that was the standard — usefulness. Alaric felt the old, familiar ache of disappointment but smothered it. There was no point arguing. His father, once a brilliant strategist, was now a man who clung to old grudges more tightly than to life.
"Talking sense into him is impossible," Alaric thought and moved to leave.
He had almost reached the door when the king spoke again, voice low and ominous despite its weakness.
"It seems whoever you are meeting has made you soft," he said between coughs. "Be careful who you trust."
The weight of the warning lingered in the room, but Alaric did not respond. He stepped out silently and closed the door.
---
Lucien was already waiting inside, leaning casually against the desk with a cup of tea in hand.
"You're finally back," Lucien smirked. "Well? I assume you can't wait to brag to me about this mysterious lover of yours."
Alaric ignored the jab. "I need to ask you something."
Lucien raised a brow. "Go on."
"What do you do when your spouse is upset with you? And… what's a proper gift for children?"
Lucien blinked — then grinned so broadly he nearly dropped the cup.
"Hah. So the invincible first prince has finally realized that emotional problems cannot be solved with threats."
Alaric folded his arms. "…Just answer."
Lucien took a slow sip, expression turning unexpectedly soft.
"When my wife is upset, I apologize sincerely. No pride, no excuses. Our partner and children do not want grandeur — they want sincerity. As for gifts…" He shrugged. "Listen to what they speak about when they think you aren't paying attention. That will tell you what they truly want."
Alaric considered this, storing the advice away more carefully than he cared to admit.
---------------
The queen consort entered her chamber with a sharp sweep of her gown, fury radiating from her like heat from a furnace. The moment the doors shut, a shadowed figure stepped forward and knelt on one knee.
"Your Majesty," the spy reported, head bowed. "The person assigned to depart for Vareth is awaiting final orders."
The queen lowered herself into her seat, eyes narrowed.
"Good. Prince Alaric did not simply vanish to relax. He went to Vareth for a reason — a reason we must uncover."
She tapped the armrest with a manicured nail.
"Your mission is no longer just to track the prince. You are to investigate the one he went to see. A herbalist — or whatever identity they are hiding behind."
The spy nodded silently.
"Once in Vareth, you will watch both of them," she continued, voice low and crisp. "Who they meet, what is being exchanged, every word and every step. I want names, relations, weaknesses — everything."
The spy bowed deeply. "As you command," and then slipped away like smoke.
A moment later, Caelum's personal aide entered. The queen's cold eyes shifted to him.
"Well? What is Caelum plotting?"
The aide, believing she sought the information out of maternal concern, answered earnestly:
"It appears Second Prince Caelum is preparing something that may not be favorable to Prince Alaric. He has been calling officials privately and ordering discreet investigations. It seems he is seeking a way to remove the prince permanently from succession."
Instead of panic, a slow smile spread across the queen consort's lips.
"So Alaric is hiding someone in a small village," she murmured. "And Caelum is finally moving his piece across the board…"
She leaned back, eyes glinting with satisfaction.
"If the spy can confirm who this person is — and their importance to Alaric — we may finally hold him by the throat."
Her voice dropped to a soft, venomous whisper:
"This time… the weakness will be real."