A wave of dry heat hit Caeden as he exited the throne room. Ash floated around him like snow. Casimir Empire burns yet its emperor uses this dire situation to finagle inroads to the Haalfkinguit firearms from him. Caeden frowned in distaste. He would have been closer to brokering a trade deal years ago had he listened to my recommendation. And now, my people suffer for their Emperor’s lack of foresight.

Regardless, it was unusual for the dwarves to close trade routes. It has only occurred once before, at the peak of the Great War and never against the Empire. That they have now did not bode well. Haalfkinguit trade needed to be re-established. The Empire needed access to their diamond crust mines if nothing else.

Ser Morley fell into step with him.

“Update me on Miss Ava,” he commanded.

“The girl is conscious, Your Grace,” Morley responded.

Caeden nodded. Good, the sooner the court sees that she is just a girl and not a threat, the better.

“Has she said anything about the Wyvern?”

“Only that it is impatient, and fully intends on following through with its threat. She fears it will attempt to come to her instead, burning its way across Daaria. As much as I hate to admit it, I see no lie in her eyes,” Morely muttered and groaned.

The Knight Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes tightly and flinched in pain. He held the man up by the shoulder.

“Are you still suffering from the headaches?” he asked, concerned.

“They have yet to go away. I apologise, Your Grace, I need a moment,” he grimaced.

“Perhaps you should see Oswin again and get some rest. The past few days have been trying, I will delegate your duties to a captain in the meantime,” Caeden suggested.

“No! No. I need something to keep me busy, if you do not mind, Your Grace. Oswin is busy with the girl so I will find an Adept if the headaches do not pass,” he said.

Morley’s eyes were not fully focused on him.

“If you are certain,” Caeden started doubtfully.

“I will not fail you again, Your Grace” his Knight Commander reaffirmed.

“Very well.” Caeden patted the man on the shoulder reassuringly and continued to his room. “I need a scout sent to Haalfkinguit. Ideally, I need a direct communication line to Findlaan. If there is anyone there who will understand the gravity of this situation, it will be him.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” Morley bowed and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Ser Morley,” Caeden called to him as he opened his bedroom door. “There is a spy among my guard. Someone is passing information to the court, primarily Grand Master Gildaen. Vet them all. If it was unintentional, dismiss them. Revoke their knighthood if it was not.”

Caeden entered his room. As much as he loved travelling, nothing could beat the comforts of home. His valet had drawn him a bath and set out his attire but was nowhere in sight. The outfit was appropriate for court but had too many layers for this heat. He moved straight to the tub.

He dozed in the water, idly planning his next steps when he heard his valet enter his room and mill about.

“Mister Jaemes, I need something lighter to wear,” he spoke to the room.

His heart skipped a beat when a feminine hand caressed his shoulder. He instinctively grasped the fingers to stop them from trailing further.

“I think you are fine just as you are,” Bethany whispered against his ear.

His eyes shot open, and he launched himself from the tub, pushing her hand away. He quickly covered himself, surprised by both her presence and his initial reaction.

“I would not have expected you to be this shy,” she flirted coyly but stopped short and frowned angrily. “Or were you expecting someone else?”

“I was expecting my valet,” he countered walking out into his room.

“Yet, you only recoiled after hearing my voice and not at the touch of my hand,” she retorted.

She was right. He had ridiculously thought it was Ava, despite knowing her hand did not feel as delicate. The time she spent helping him through his madness and injury made him accustomed to her presence in his room. But explaining that to Bethany seemed a waste of time and effort.

“Lady Bethany this encounter and conversation is wholly improper,” he said, ushering her to the door.

“Wait! Lady Ella wishes to see you. I was sent to escort you,” she said placing a palm on his chest to stop him and pondering through an internal dialogue. “Caeden, I do not mind if you seek out another’s company during this time, but perhaps a hybrid is not the best choice.”

Irked by her implication, he removed her hand from his chest.

“I did not realise I needed your approval,” he growled coldly. “Let me be clear, Lady Bethany. We are nothing to each other. Do not address me without my title again.”

He escorted her to the door and opened it.

“I will head to my mother shortly. Now, please leave.”

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Lady Ella sat at an ornate tea table in her parlour. Her brows furrowed delicately as her green eyes considered the cup of dark sweet tea in her hands. Her long, blonde hair was gathered and secured inside a red jewelled hair net. Her posture, mannerisms, and attire showed her to be Queen in everything but title.

“Mother,” Caeden greeted her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

She leaned into it and patted him on his cheek a tad harder than usual. Caeden flinched and straightened before heading to an open window to catch a breeze blowing through it.

“Sit with me, Caeden. And have some tea,” she invited.

“No, thank you,” he responded. As much as he wanted the chill of the drink, his mother preferred it far too sweet for his liking.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“How are you, truly? I was worried when I heard of the collapse. More so knowing we could not send aid to you in time,” she asked, biting her lip.

“I am well considering Ser Morley still struggles with headaches. I had an excellent healer. My arm is tender but healing favourably.”

“I would not have thought Master Oswin had much talent in healing. Perhaps he was indeed a good choice for you.”

“How has it been here?” he asked, changing the subject.

“A whirlwind of confusion. Your father had been overwhelmed with allaying fears from the nobility. I am sure you have already noticed, but Kael has been acting out of character and has become very much involved. This has delighted your father, much to my irritation. Which brings me to ask why I had to console a sobbing Lady Bethany. What did you do to the poor girl?” she asked with annoyance.

“She overstepped and insulted my honour and Miss Ava in the process,” Caeden answered dryly. He did not bother to tell her about Bethany’s impropriety. He had no doubt that it was his mother who planted the idea in her head in the first place.

The news of his brother was interesting. He would have to gain more insight into where his brother's head was currently and if it would change in future. But, how to go about it? After all these years it would not be like Kael to suddenly reveal his mind to him, especially if he was still under the influence of Queen Aeline.

His mother sighed, “Yet your attitude changed before that. Why did you not allow her to escort you to court? Perhaps you would not have had to report to the floor had you shown your father that you still had King Raeburn on your side.”

“It would not have changed anything. Despite that, I have doubts about her suitability and her legitimacy. I met a Knight Captain with a similar likeness in Everard.”

“Mannerisms can be taught and adopted over time,” His mother countered, indicating to herself. “And King Raeburn recognises her as his daughter. That is all that matters.”

“What matters is not splintering the Empire further with political or civil tension while an enemy turns its gaze upon it. We need to remain united. If I must give up all claim on the Ruby Throne, then so be it.”

Caeden placed his palms flat on the table and stared squarely into his mother’s eyes. “Send Lady Bethany home, she will be safest with her family should war come to the Empire.”

His mother shook her head in frustration. The obsidian crystals in her hair net clinked together.

“I understand your reasoning, but I do not see the need to give up the throne or Lady Bethany. You should be the emperor leading us through war, not Kael or your father. You were willing to ignore Lady Bethany’s ‘flaws’ not so long ago. Are you certain your desire to save the Empire and not a comely woman motivates you? I have not seen the creature myself, but rumours have reached my ears about its strange beauty.”

Caeden ground his jaw. “Let me be clear, mother. The Empire is my priority, no woman will change that!”

“Yes,” his mother responded dryly. “Because no man has ever been swayed by a woman before. I am certain your father always thought he would be a pious leader and loyal husband before he met me.”

“Mother!” Caeden admonished, quickly preventing her from launching into the tale of how she, a common merchant’s daughter, caught the gaze of the Empire’s most powerful man. He never could understand why she was so proud of turning a man away from his wife, no matter how insufferable the woman happened to be. “I am not my father, and I will not be persuaded away from my goal. My path is set. I do not want the throne. My aims are greater.”

“Indeed,” she agreed and sipped her tea. Her lips pursed with disappointment. “You want your likeness painted in the stars and your legacy remembered throughout the ages. Are you truly willing to give up everything for such a lofty and impossible goal?”

“Yes, and I will not reach it if the Empire crumbles before it has the chance to fight,” he responded without hesitation. “Do not gainsay me on this, we need to be allied in purpose. Send Lady Bethany home. I will not entertain further marital discussions.”

Caeden straightened and walked to the exit. He turned in the arching doorway.

“Mother do not refer to Miss Ava as a creature. Treat her respectfully when you speak to her. I need her on my side.”

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Caeden walked towards the temple Queen Aeline had erected in honour of the gods. The temple was meant to be the first step in her campaign to convert the Empire into a holy one under the sovereign rule of the gods, the emperor and his queen serving only as vocal instruments of their will. It stood a grand and glorious failure as not only did the Faithful’s Hermits reject her vision, but she lost her benefactor when his mother turned the emperor from a path of piety.

In her righteous fervour, Queen Aeline underestimated how the extravagant temple would look to the humble Hermits who survived off the bounties provided by the gods, and the goodwill of their fellow man. Their sole purpose in life was to provide the gods’ guidance to the lost and were wholly disinterested in power, gold and ambition. The sheer magnitude of the temple’s luxury had turned them away the moment they had laid eyes on it. Caeden did not mind it though, it offered him a private space to pray and clear his mind, away from everything and everyone.

A massive golden statue of Holden, the stern warrior god graced the right entrance wall while his lover, the vivacious goddess Fern graced the left. He entered through a grandiose arch between them and walked down the aisle of the empty temple. But he stopped short when he spotted the swathed figure sitting at the front pew.

Everyone except one. He turned to leave.

“Sit with me,” Queen Aeline commanded without turning to look at him.

He hesitated, wondering if he could sneak out without her noticing. He purposely scheduled his times at the temple when he knew she would not be there. So why is she here?

“You are the only one who appreciates this place besides me, Caeden. Come,” she said coldly, staring at the two smaller statues on the dais before her.

Caeden groaned inwardly and marched to the front aisle.

“Your Highness.” He bowed stiffly.

She nodded but adamantly refused to look at him directly. It still irked him that he had not been able to outgrow her passive dismissal, but at least now it pained him less.

He straightened and flopped in the pew next to her. She adjusted the white wimple at her jaw, clearly uncomfortable. Only the flushed skin of her face was exposed to the light of day, the rest was covered in heavy linen. The woman valued piety to a fault and would suffer through the heat in all her layers of clothing.

Caeden pulled at the ties of his stone pouch. Assuming Queen Aeline was here for him, he would wait for her to make the first move or leave.

“You need a new pouch,” she said, reaching to take his singed one.

“No,” he said impulsively and yanked it away from her grasp. “I still – prefer this one, Your Highness.”

Her face twitched in what seemed to be a half smile before becoming severe again.

“Have you been speaking to Kael?” she asked.

He wondered at her reasoning for asking him, but if it gave him more insight into where Kael’s head was, perhaps there was nothing wrong with indulging it.

“I have not spoken to him since I left for Spectermere,” he answered. To be honest, he had not spoken to Kael for a long time before that. They had led very different lives.

Queen Aeline's brows furrowed, and she shook her head, seemingly unable to reconcile whatever discussion she was having with herself.

“I have heard that Lady Bethany was seen in tears earlier. I certainly hope there have not been issues since your return?” she asked.

“At the moment, I think it would be wise to send her home where her family can protect her,” he replied, trying to determine where her concern truly lay.

“Yes. I think that would be best,” she pondered. “I hope this means you will be putting your ambitions aside once and for all. The People do not lust for power...”

“They protect the weak, honour the gods and exact justice through order,” he replied stiffly, irritated that she was using his faith to manipulate him again. “I know Holden’s doctrine. Did you forget it when you suggested we use the Great Spirits to cow the other nations, My Queen?”

Faced with her hypocrisy, Queen Aeline’s face reddened and twitched with anger and embarrassment. She stood abruptly and clenched her fists.

“You are impossible to speak to,” she said when she regained control and turned to leave. Her angry footsteps echoed in the silence.

Caeden closed his eyes and sighed. He was sure that their relationship could become civil if he tried. But he still hung onto the disillusionment he felt upon discovering that she had used the faith he thought they were bonding over to try and convince him to reject all worldly claims and become a Hermit. She abruptly stopped fostering and encouraging their shared interest after realising he had no interest in doing so. It was a betrayal and rejection he could not and did not want to overcome.

He shook his head, intent on clearing his mind of such useless thoughts and feelings.

“Caeden.”

He frowned, annoyed, but ignored the voice.

“Caeden!”

He shot from his seat, ready to give the person a dressing down for using his name with such familiarity. He turned and searched the temple.

No one was there. His heart pounded heavily in his chest.

He turned to the statue of Holden. The white alabaster stone eyes shone fierce and bright. Caeden rushed from the temple, digging his palms into his eyes.

No. No. No! I was supposed to be free from this madness!