Chapter 47
FOUR YEARS LATER
The court had become Adam's home in ways he hadn't imagined. Over the past four years, he had settled into his role within Mathias' service, handling diplomatic matters and taking on tasks with growing confidence. Though he never became a knight, his position within the court allowed him to forge a place for himself, and more importantly, develop a closeness with the people around him—none more so than Alistair.
There were days when Adam would find himself at the prince's side, working together on matters of the kingdom or walking side by side through the palace. Their conversations had shifted from formal exchanges to something more akin to camaraderie, and that ease between them was a relief. They were no longer just two men bound by duty; they were becoming something like friends, or perhaps brothers, sharing their thoughts freely without the strain of royal protocol.
This morning, Adam found himself in the study, sorting through reports for Mathias. He hadn't seen Alistair yet that day, but he was sure the prince was in the midst of his usual duties. It was a rare moment of solitude for him, and he was almost at peace as he read through the letters.
It wasn't long before the door opened with a familiar creak, and Alistair stepped in. As usual, there was a quiet strength about him, a presence that immediately commanded attention. But today, there was a slight looseness in his posture—he didn't walk in with the same weight of responsibility hanging on his shoulders.
"Busy morning?" Alistair asked, his voice calm as he looked over Adam's shoulder at the piles of papers on the desk.
"Same old. Nothing too pressing," Adam replied, glancing up at him with a smirk. "You?"
Alistair grinned, a little of his usual royal reserve slipping away. "The same. I could use a break, honestly."
Adam leaned back in his chair, stretching. "You've earned one, I'd say. It's good to see you taking a moment for yourself."
Alistair's smile lingered for a moment before he sighed, walking over to a chair and sitting across from Adam. He looked at the papers on the desk but didn't pick them up. "I was thinking about the letter we received weeks ago from the Citadel," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Alissa's time there is nearly over."
Adam's heart skipped at the mention of Alissa. He knew the day would come when she would return home, but now that it was so close, the thought of it was bittersweet. He had kept his feelings in check over the years, focusing on his responsibilities, but the knowledge that Alissa was returning stirred something within him.
"Has she sent word again?" Adam asked, his voice a little quieter now.
Alistair nodded. "Yes. She should be back in a few weeks. It feels strange, doesn't it?" He smiled wistfully. "It's been so long since she left, and now everything's different."
Adam's eyes flickered with the same emotion. "Things have changed for all of us."
Before either of them could continue, a servant entered, carrying a letter sealed with the royal seal. The servant handed it directly to Alistair, who broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
He read the letter quickly, his expression shifting from neutral to one of mild surprise, then a soft smile tugged at his lips. He handed the letter to Adam with a knowing look.
"It seems that the time has come," Alistair said quietly. "Alissa will return soon."
Adam took the letter and read through it. It confirmed what they had both known—Alissa was finally returning home to Valla, her time at the Citadel complete. The thought of her coming back filled him with a strange mixture of excitement and uncertainty. He wasn't sure what awaited him once she returned, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to be ready to face whatever came next.
Alistair leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he observed Adam's reaction. "You're going to have to face her sooner or later, you know."
Adam nodded, folding the letter neatly before placing it on the desk. "I know. And I will. When the time comes."
For a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the news settling between them. Then, Adam leaned forward slightly, his tone more casual.
"Do you think she's changed?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Alistair thought for a moment. "We all have. But I think Alissa's heart will always be the same." Adam paused, glancing at Alistair. "How about you? You think Jasmine's changed with the pregnancy?"
Alistair's eyes softened as he looked out the window for a moment. "I don't know. I think… this is what she's always wanted. But I'll be here for her, no matter what." He looked back at Adam, a flicker of seriousness returning to his gaze. "I'll always put my family first. You know that, right?"
Adam nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know. And I respect you for it."
The words hung in the air between them, a quiet understanding passing between them. Alistair was devoted to his duty and his family—just as Adam was. Though their paths had diverged in some ways, they had also found a way to share the same space in a way they hadn't before.
"So," Alistair said after a moment, breaking the silence, "once she returns, we'll need to make sure she's properly welcomed. Father will want to have a celebration, I'm sure."
Adam nodded. "We'll make sure she's welcomed back properly. We all will."
As the conversation shifted back to their duties, Adam felt a sense of peace settle over him. No matter the uncertainty about Alissa's return, he had his place here. With Alistair. And with the people he had come to consider family.
---
The morning breeze carried the scent of roses through the courtyard garden. Beneath the tall willows, Jasmine sat on a cushioned bench, her hand resting on the curve of her swollen belly. Her golden gown clung gently to her form, highlighting her advanced pregnancy. Beside her, little Caelen darted through the grass with a wooden sword, his laughter ringing clear.
He was four now—full of mischief, grace, and curiosity. His green eyes mirrored Alistair's, and his dark, wavy hair often fell into them when he ran.
Alistair appeared from behind a stone archway, dressed not in formal robes but simple court attire, the kind he wore when he wanted to feel like a husband and father—not a prince. He spotted Caelen and opened his arms, catching the boy mid-run.
"There you are, brave warrior," Alistair grinned, lifting him high.
Caelen squealed, clinging to his father's shoulders. Jasmine smiled as she watched the pair. Alistair joined her, sitting on the edge of the bench with Caelen still in his arms.
"He asked if the baby could sleep in his room when it's born," Jasmine said softly, rubbing her belly. "I told him we'd see."
Alistair chuckled, brushing Kaelen's hair from his face. "Only if he promises not to wake it up with his sword training."
"I will be quiet," Caelen said solemnly, placing a hand on Jasmine's stomach. "I promise, Mama."
Jasmine kissed the boy's forehead, then leaned back, letting out a slow breath. The weight of her pregnancy was taking its toll, but she bore it with pride.
"You should rest more," Alistair murmured, noticing the tiredness in her eyes.
"I will, after this walk," she replied. "It's the only time I can breathe."
Alistair leaned over, placing a hand over hers on her belly. The child kicked, and a quiet joy passed between them. Despite the politics, the duties, and the weight of crowns—they had built something real.
"You always make time for us," Jasmine said softly.
"I always will," he answered.
And from a high window above, someone watched the little family below—unseen, unheard, forgotten by the one he once called his love.
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.