Ceremonial knocks came from the door before the visitor made his merry way in without waiting for the host's permission.

"Wake up, Brother. The sun's singeing a new hole through your arse." Zier called as he set a small table laden with a food tray by the bed, "I brought breakfast, so giddy up."

Coris didn't wiggle a toe as he yawned,

"I'm not hungry. Go ahead, I know you want it."

Shaking his head, Zier opened the lids on the bowls and plates.

"No deal. Mother demanded I sit on you until you finish every last drop of soup before I can proceed with my life."

Coris moaned. Rolling his eyes, Zier pounced onto the bed, flattening his brother, who sent up a muffled oof.

"Get up and eat, bone-bags! You grow any thinner and people will think Father's starving you!" He hollered into Coris' ear.

"Alright, gerroff me. I'm up, I'm up."

Coris peeled himself from the soft, bouncy bed with the speed and willingness of a bandage left too long over a scabbing wound. Zier rolled off and bounded to the floor. Coris noticed a new set of robes Arinel had laid for him on the bed. He pulled on the linen undergarments.

"By the way, where's Ari?"

Zier froze, then unfurled a sly, knowing grin.

"So, it's Ari now, eh? Whatever happened to Lady Arinel?"

Coris blushed. Ignoring Zier, he slipped his legs into the trousers, but alas, Zier was not to be deterred.

"Arinel said you two haven't done it, but you weren't wearing anything. And you look dead pooped." Zier propped his chin on the bed, his grin widening,

"I know you usually don't sleep in the nude, and it isn't summer yet. Thus, I arrived at the inevitable conclusion: CORIS HADRIAN HAS LOST HIS VIRGINI―"

"SHUT UP!"

Coris flung his shirt at Zier's face, stuffing his brother's fat mouth full of silk. Zier snatched off the shirt, revealing his face still full of smiles. Coris yanked him in by the shoulder.

"Yes, we did it, but don't you breathe a word of this to anyone, understand? Especially Father and Mother." He hissed through gritted teeth. Zier blinked,

"Why not? The sooner she's pregnant the better, isn't it?" He narrowed his eyes, "You do know they're going to keep nagging you about it, don't you?"

"It's no use, Zier. The healers all agreed. I'm too weak to sire an heir."

Coris grabbed the shirt back from Zier, pulled it over his head, then slid down to the floor, fuming as he stirred the steaming soup for it to cool.

"Father knows, and yet he went through with the marriage. And Arinel insisted we do it anyway. She may not care much about herself, but I do. I must protect her future."

"But you've never slept with anyone before. How can you be so sure you can't give her a babe?"

"Even if I could, I don't want to. Why would I father a child I know I won't live to care for? It's cruel for the child and the mother."

Zier's face fell. He hung his head, scratching glumly at the reed-thin groove between flagstones. He was hoping Coris would have a son with Arinel, who'd become Baron instead of him. Zier had never wanted the Hadrian seat—he'd always dreamed of living the spare's carefree life. It pained Coris to dash his brother's faint hopes time and again,

"I'm sorry, Zier. It has to be you."

"Guess I'm destined for greatness." Zier quipped with a shrug, then his grin returned, "But, seriously, you've just had the first fling of your life, and we're discussing politics and birthrights?"

Zier raised an insinuating eyebrow. Coris scooped up a spoonful of soup and tested it with the tip of his tongue. Sure it had gone lukewarm and wouldn't scald his damaged gullet, he sipped the whole mouthful. Zier was having none of it.

"Come on, Coris! You know your little brother needs to hear your life experience. Details!"

Zier tugged at his brother's sleeve. Coris managed to continue eating.

"Please. How do breasts feel? Was she a virgin? How did it feel when you went inside her? Did she bleed? What noises did she make? Did you do the mouth trick? And did you try out that position Simon was talking aboーOw!"

Coris swatted Zier's head with his loaf of bread, his face deep crimson. Ignoring the fake whimpers, he cut a slice off the bread and rested it in the soup.

"Thank you for your concern regarding my married life, little brother. Your questions were not in the least impertinent. Nor do they encroach upon my privacy. Nor do they disrespect my wife."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Zier grinned sheepishly.

"Let's just say we thoroughly enjoyed it. I shan't go so far as to say we're in love, but I can see us becoming good friends. I think she feels the same way. I must admit, I'm rather fond of her. She's kind, passionate—and strong."

Coris allowed himself a gentle smile. He remembered how she took his fearsome coughing episodes in stride, tending to him without a word. She convinced him not to consummate the marriage but to lie with her, to let hope and tenderness into this marriage of despair and stone-hearted politics, to do things for himself for once, make the most out of his remaining time.

Though he felt he was giving in to his selfish desires, he was touched by her kindness and surprised by her determination.

"Is she like Agnes?" Zier asked. Coris' smile vanished.

"Not in the least." He said brusquely. Zier fell silent, knowing he'd crossed a forbidden line. Catching himself, Coris reverted to his soft-spoken persona,

"But yes, she is a mystery. She's heaped on a mountain of powder to cover her suntan and freckles. How come? The Crossets have snowy skin that never blemish. And she has those beautiful green eyes like emeralds. You've noticed, too, haven't you?"

"So?" Still shaken, Zier laughed cautiously at his brother's dreamy description. However, judging from Coris' strained expression, the comment wasn't romantic.

"That time we went with Father to Crosset to ask for her hand, remember? She donned her veil whenever I approached her, said she'd rather I don't read her mind," Coris rolled his eyes, grumbling petulantly, then returned to business, "Nevertheless, I've seen portraits of her. She has the blue Crosset eyes."

Zier blinked, dumbstruck. Coris raised his hand and gestured at his neck.

"She has this pendant around her neck, a coin of some kind of metal, I reckon. It has this rainbow shimmer about it. And she's...unladylike."

"How?" Zier asked, more focused on helping himself to Coris' cooling breakfast while his brother was distracted.

"How she carries herself. Her speech. Her accent, it bleeds through." Coris rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowed,

"Then there's the fact she's never heard of The Axel. I know she's a girl born out of wedlock, but you'd think Lord Crosset would've at least mentioned it in passing a few times across her seventeen years in the castle."

Zier gaped in disbelief, then rolled his eyes and slumped hard against the bed.

"By Freda, brother. Don't tell me you had all these flying around in your head while you bedded your wife?" Coris chuckled, leaving Zier to massage his throbbing forehead, "Come off it. You think Lord Crosset would send you a maid disguised as Lady Arinel or something?"

"Of course I do. Just look at my state." Coris gestured at his skin-and-bones physique. Zier stopped smiling. "No father would want his daughter to be widowed young and childless, would he?"

Coris resumed eating as if he had been discussing the weather, not his up-and-coming death. Zier gritted his teeth, downcast,

"I'm sorry. This is all my fault." He whispered, his voice strangled.

"Come now, it's alright." Coris ruffled his hair. At the mournful look in those blue eyes, he gave him a gentle, hopeful smile, "We still have you."

"Could you stop saying that already?" Zier snapped. Coris laughed,

"Sorry. Seems we can't just keep it light, eh." He cocked his head and tried brightening the mood, "So, can you tell me already where Ari is?"

"Mother's showing her around the castle. You know, because she'll take over Mother's work one day as Baroness?" Zier unfurled a devious grin, "Father said if you feel up to it, tomorrow you can take Ari for a honeymoon tour of our fief."

Coris was elbowing his cheeky little brother when something blasted open the door and hurtled toward them. It bowled Coris over, licking every inch of his face with immense vigor.

"Beau? What are you doing all the way up here?"

Zier gawked at the enormous white greyhound now flattening Coris, who struggled in vain to escape its suffocating weight.

"No! Paws off me and no slobber, Beau. Beau! Down, boy, down! I said down!"

Coris could've been yelling orders to a tree. Beau cleaned his face and nuzzled his neck as Zier roared with laughter.

Coris was so fond of dogs he raised an army of them. Beau, the former war messenger, was one of his favorites. Having been honorably discharged from duty after taking an arrow to the knee in the Siege of Cristoria, the old hound roamed free on the castle grounds. He loved playing in the fields with Coris, but after Coris' ailing health confined him indoors for most of his time, Beau was always eager to reunite with his master.

Arinel asked about Beau during breakfast, saying she'd seen his portrait in their room, so Zier had the marshal bring Beau from the kennels to meet his new mistress. As if he'd caught a whiff of his master on her, Beau welcomed her to the family with much enthusiasm. By the time Arinel clambered up to her chair, her face dripping with drool, her hairdo a slopping mess, everyone was laughing so hard, it was nigh impossible to continue eating.

"Zieren Hadrian! Stop laughing already or so help me Chione I will bury you!"

At Coris's scream of displeasure, Zier snapped out of his happy reverie. As he wrestled Beau off his brother, he spotted a scrap of parchment slotted into his collar.

"Brother, come look. He's got something!"

Coris had clambered onto the bed to fetch a towel. He spun around. Once he saw the letter Zier had extracted from Beau's message compartment, he was back by Zier's side in a blink.

Silence fell between the brothers as they read. For all their differences, the boys paled to the same shade of white as they shared a look of dread.

"The dowry?" Zier whispered fearfully, "I thought there's no dowry?"

"There isn't," Coris's lips barely moved as he stared unblinking at the mysterious letter, "Seeing as the marriage is grievously unfair to the bride, I asked Father to demand nothing from the Crossets."

"Then where did all this talk about a dowry come from?"

"It's not just any dowry these bandits want. I don't think they're simple bandits, either. They're after something specific that is supposedly in Lady Arinel's dowry."

Coris stared into space. Creases deepened between his eyebrows from the sheer weight of the situation.

"Our enemies must have assumed Klythe stole The Axel to Crosset when he disappeared—we haven't had heists since. They likely assume The Axel's return is a condition of Arinel's marriage to me, but we know full well both of them have nothing to do with this. We must help Arinel."

Coris vowed through gritted teeth. Zier grimaced.

"I know you want to protect her, Brother, but if they're really after this thing, Arinel's not our priority here." He leaned close, whispering, "Maybe we should tell Father and let him deal with this?"

Coris turned away from Zier's look of desperation. As a Hadrian, his foremost duty was to The Axel—but Arinel, she trusted him. Once she learned how much he'd sacrificed to keep The Axel safe, she risked her life to warn him and beg for his help. He couldn't abandon her. Nor could he alert Father when he was living proof of the lengths Father would go to keep The Axel's secret.

Arinel had gathered their wedding clothes and hung them from a wooden stand by the bed. Coris caressed her blue silk gown as he wrung his brain for a countermeasure.

"We'd better not." He said finally, his eyes narrowed, "I have a plan."