Tomas shifted awkwardly as he sat across from Cyriac's twin sister Cyra, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. Between them stood Cyriac, pouring tea with uncharacteristic meekness that set Tomas's teeth on edge.

"Sugar, my lord?" Cyriac murmured deferentially. Tomas suppressed a flinch at the obsequious tone, so unlike his friend's normal irreverence.

"None for me, thank you," Cyra declared before Tomas could respond. "I prefer to take my tea unsweetened."

Tomas cleared his throat. "Yes, no sugar for me either."

Cyra's eyes glinted. "Come now, my betrothed, and you need not mimic my preferences. I'm sure you would enjoy more...sugar."

The suggestive emphasis made Tomas shift uneasily. Cyriac said nothing, avoiding eye contact.

"Er, just one spoonful then," Tomas mumbled. Cyriac silently obliged, though his jaw tightened.

An uncomfortable silence descended. Tomas racked his brain for polite conversation, but words failed him under Cyra's needling stare.

Finally, Cyra shattered the tension herself. "What a delightful little tea party this is. Though rather sordid with you two exchanging ownership of my poor brother."

Tomas flushed. "My lady, that was not my wish. Political necessity demanded--"

"Please, spare me the excuses," Cyra interrupted, fixing Tomas with an icy look. "We both know you and my father see Cyriac and me as mere bargaining chips."

Her words cut deep, echoing Tomas's own guilty conscience over the situation. Cyra seemed determined to make both men squirm for acquiescence, and it worked.

Meeting Cyriac's equally miserable eyes, Tomas wondered if he had gotten them all in too deep. But the uneasy alliance was secured now for Aeron's protection, even if secured through means that left bitterness in their wake. They could only weather this storm and hope to reconcile sincerely once peace returned. If Cyra ever ceased tormenting them both so artfully...

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

***

Jasper stood guard in the shadows as Aeron conferred with his counselors, ready to intervene at the first sign of the emperor's temper flaring out of control. Ever since the attempt on Lady Astrala's life, Aeron's rage had become unpredictable and dangerous.

So far, the meeting proceeded smoothly, but Jasper remained wary. Aeron's wrath could ignite with little warning, lashing out indiscriminately. The others often failed to notice the subtle signs - the tightening of Aeron's jaw, the white-knuckled grip on his throne's arms. But Jasper knew them all.

A petty disagreement broke out between two advisors. Sensing imminent danger, Jasper tensed, focusing intently on Aeron. Sure enough, the emperor's fingers had started drumming angrily on the throne.

As the squabbling continued, Aeron suddenly slammed a fist down. "Enough!" he roared. "Must I endure such pointless bickering?"

The chastened counselors fell silent immediately. But Jasper saw a vein pulsing in Aeron's temple and the dangerous flicker in his eyes. His temper was barely leashed.

Before the situation could deteriorate further, Jasper stepped forward swiftly and knelt before the seething emperor. "Your Radiance, urgent business requires your immediate attention."

Aeron's glare flickered to him. "This better be important, Jasper."

"Critical military matters, my liege. Please, allow me to brief you privately."

After a tense pause, Aeron waved the group out dismissively. "See to your duties, all of you."

Bowing, Jasper escorted the relieved men quickly outside. Disaster was averted, for the moment. But he knew these outbursts would only worsen without intervention. If Aeron was to be redeemed, Jasper and the others had to find a way to penetrate his darkness before fury consumed him completely. They were running out of time.

***

Aeron eyed the serene young monk before him curiously. Neonatal had presented Brother Lucian as someone to provide spiritual counsel, claiming Aeron needed balance beyond just imperial tutors. Privately, Aeron doubted the soft-spoken man could offer much aid, but he hid his skepticism.

"Brother Lucian has trained closely under Priestess Ceils in the meditative arts," Neonatal explained. "I thought you might benefit from his guidance, Your Eminence."

Lucian bowed. "You honor me, my Emperor. I shall try to impart whatever modest wisdom my studies have granted."

Aeron studied the monk dubiously. Lucian seemed barely older than Aeron himself. What spiritual insights could he hope to offer an emperor and Thorneborn? Yet Aeron glimpsed a calm intelligence in the man's eyes belying his youth.

"Very well, brother. I am eager to learn new paths to inner peace," Aeron said politely.

Lucian smiled. "Truthfully, the meditations may prove quite frustrating initially. But perseverance through struggle often rewards the patient most."

"He speaks truth, Your Eminence," Neonatal added wryly. "I resisted these teachings for years until their value became apparent."

Aeron raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this admission from the normally indomitable Regent. Perhaps there was merit in this humble monk's way after all. If someone like Neonatal claimed concede to its wisdom, Aeron could surely approach similarly with an open mind.

"Then let us begin, so that I may discover this path to patience and virtue you both praise so highly," Aeron said to Lucian.

The monk bowed again graciously and pulled out a simple straw mat to demonstrate the proper meditative posture. Aeron joined him on the floor, attempting to mirror Lucian's serene pose.

As the lesson commenced, Aeron found his skepticism fading. The monk's gentle voice and guidance evoked an unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sense of inner quiet. For the first time in long while, the gnawing anger and turmoil eased just a fraction. Aeron continued listening intently. There was much yet to learn here.