They sat across from each other on the worn but clean sofa, the late afternoon light filtering through the windows and casting long, golden shadows across the room.
Sion crossed his legs elegantly, posture relaxed but deliberate.
"You really shouldn't have come all the way here," he said smoothly.
Cassian laughed — not mockingly, but warmly.
"And miss the chance to see how you're living?" His eyes roamed the room with curiosity rather than judgment. "You always insist on coming to the guild. I was beginning to think you were hiding something."
Sion's lips curved faintly. "I value your time, Guild Master. Traveling this far is hardly convenient."
"Cassian," he corrected.
Sion did not repeat it.
Cassian Solari — Guild Master of Silver Crest, one of the top two merchant guilds in the kingdom. A man whose origins were unknown, yet who rose to power at eighteen with frightening speed and precision.
Eiran entered quietly and placed tea before them.
"Please," he said politely.
Cassian thanked him cheerfully.
Then silence.
It had always been like this.
Two years ago—
After leaving the capital, Caelum and Eiran had gone directly to the guild in this town. Since they needed land,supplies, and protection under a commercial banner that would discourage interference.
They needed discretion.
When Cassian first saw him, he had not hidden his recognition.
"Second Prince Caelum Vale," he had said softly, eyes gleaming. "I never believed the rumors of your death."
He had looked delighted.
Caelum had looked unimpressed.
Cassian had agreed to the price Caelum offered—but not without conditions.
First: Caelum must spend time with him at least once a month. Even if only to drink tea.
Second: One quarter of every harvest season's produce would go to Silver Crest.
Caelum had rejected it immediately.
Ridiculous.
But Cassian had smiled confidently and leaned back in his chair.
"You won't find a better price," he had said. "And no better location. Especially if you wish to live unbothered."
It had been true.
Then Cassian added, almost carelessly—
"Or you could sleep with me once. Then we won't need monthly tea."
Eiran had nearly drawn his weapon that day.
Cassian had continued, unfazed. "You were releasing omega pheromones the moment you entered my office."
Caelum had not flinched.
He had only looked at Cassian evenly.
"Fine," Sion had said at last. "The two conditions then."
And that was that.
Cassian had also arranged the change of identity.
Caey had become Sion.
And the second prince had quietly disappeared.
—
Now, two years later, they sat in the same silence that was neither suffocating or comfortable.
Cassian watched him over the rim of his teacup.
"You're distracted," he said softly.
Sion blinked once, then smiled lightly. "Am I?"
"You are."
"My alternative offer," he said with a grin. "Still open, by the way."
There was nothing crude in his tone. Just playful boldness.
"Sleep with you once and be free of tea forever?" Sion tilted his head slightly. "Tempting."
Cassian's smile widened.
"Is it?"
Sion chuckled.
"No."
His tone was pleasant. Almost warm.
But final.
Cassian laughed under his breath, shaking his head.
"You're cruel."
After finishing their tea, Cassian set the cup down.
"Show me around," he said casually. "I've never seen your smallholding."
Sion rose gracefully. "Of course."
They walked side by side across the small fields. The rows of vegetables were orderly despite the recent loss of workers. Fruit trees lined the edges. Chickens pecked lazily near the fence.
Cassian looked genuinely impressed.
"You've maintained this well."
Sion brushed a leaf between his fingers. "We manage."
"I heard," Cassian said lightly, "that you lost your workers."
The wind shifted slightly.
Sion did not look at him. "News travels fast."
"I make it my business to know things."
"If you need help," he added, voice light but sincere, "I can send people from the guild.
A generous offer.
Too generous.
Sion stopped walking briefly, then resumed at the same steady pace.
"You're very generous lately."
"You keep refusing me. I'm trying new approaches."
That made Sion's lips twitch.
Cassian's cheerfulness dimmed just slightly.
"You know," he said more quietly, "you don't always have to turn me down."
Sion noticed it then—the faint strain beneath Cassian's composed exterior. The repeated rejection. The distance carefully maintained.
He was powerful.
Influential.
Proud.
And pride, when wounded too often, could become inconvenient.
That would be… disadvantageous.
Sion allowed a brief pause before responding.
"I may have assistance soon," he said lightly.
Cassian's smile thinned. "Assistance?"
"Yes."
""The ones asking about you?" Cassian asked.
Sion finally looked at him.
"Yes."
There it was.
The smallest shift in his expression.
Not obvious.
But enough.
Cassian caught it instantly and he did not like it.