The grand dining hall of the palace was filled with golden candlelight, the long table set with extravagant dishes. Yet, despite the luxury, the atmosphere was heavy.
Edric sat stiffly, his eyes glued to his plate.
He had barely touched his food, his grip on his fork tight as if it were the only thing grounding him. Across from him, Riven sat with his usual lazy smirk, completely at ease. He cut into his meal leisurely, his eyes occasionally flicking toward his younger brother.
Edric never looked up.
At the head of the table, King Aldric sipped his wine slowly, his expression unreadable—but if one looked closely, they'd notice the faintest hint of amusement curling at the edges of his lips.
He had already heard about what happened at the training grounds. His butler, ever dutiful, had provided every detail.
Edric's humiliation.
Riven's effortless victory.
The knights laughing.
And now, here at dinner, his younger son was silent and defeated.
Riven leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine in his goblet before taking a sip.
"Quiet tonight, aren't you, little brother?" he mused, his voice laced with amusement.
Edric's hand tensed around his fork, but he said nothing.
Across the table, Queen Evelyn's fingers curled slightly against her glass.
Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp, burning with quiet fury.
Her son looked like a beaten dog. A coward. Humiliated in front of knights, servants—and now in front of his own family.
And Riven was enjoying it.
She lifted her glass to her lips, her jaw tight.
This was unacceptable.
The meal continued in tense silence.
Edric barely ate.
The king hid his amusement.
Riven enjoyed himself.
And Evelyn simmered in quiet rage.
By the time dinner was over, Riven stood first, stretching.
"What a lovely meal," he said with a smirk, glancing at Edric's untouched plate. "Not hungry, dear brother? You must be exhausted after all that rolling in the dirt."
A vein in Edric's forehead twitched.
Riven chuckled, turned on his heel, and left the hall.
The king followed soon after, leaving Evelyn and Edric alone.
The moment the doors closed behind them, Evelyn's composure shattered.
"YOU IDIOT!"
The moment Edric stepped into his mother's chambers, a porcelain flowerpot shattered against the floor, inches from his feet.
He flinched.
Queen Evelyn stood across the room, her eyes blazing with fury.
"You humiliated yourself in front of EVERYONE!" she spat. "Do you have ANY idea what you've done?!"
Edric lowered his gaze. "Mother, I—"
"You LET him make a fool of you!" she cut him off. "You KNOW you can't beat Riven in combat, and yet you CHALLENGED him in front of the knights?!"
Her voice dripped with venom as she stepped closer.
"You are making my work harder, Edric. I serve you the throne on a golden platter, and you—" she gestured wildly, "—you act like a child and throw it all away!"
Her sharp heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked past him, her hands clenched into fists.
"Even the king heard about your disgrace. Do you know how that makes us look? He's even sending him on a diplomatic mission, while YOU, the crown prince stays at the palace."
Edric swallowed hard.
His mother had always been calm. Calculated.
But now, standing before her, he felt small.
Like a scolded child.
Evelyn exhaled sharply, turning back to him.
"Do you truly believe you would be crown prince without me?" she hissed. "Without my family? Without my efforts?"
Edric remained silent.
"If Riven's mother had lived, he would STILL be heir. Do you think anyone would have cared about you?"
Her words cut deep.
She stepped forward, voice lower but just as cruel. "You are the future king, Edric. So start acting like it."
She turned away, her patience exhausted.
"Get out of my sight."
Edric hesitated.
"NOW!"
He flinched again before quickly leaving the room.
As the door shut behind him, Evelyn exhaled, trying to calm herself.
She signaled a servant. "Clean this mess."
Then, she stood by the window, staring into the night.
And for the first time in a long time—she was worried.
---
Riven sat by his window, staring at the night sky.
Beyond the palace walls, the city stretched into the distance—but his thoughts were far from here.
He sighed, leaning back against the windowsill.
"Ah… I miss my queen."
A sudden knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
He smirked. "Come in, Jorrik."
The door opened, and Jorrik stepped in, arms crossed. "You need to stop calling her that."
Riven grinned. "But it suits her."
Jorrik rolled his eyes and took a seat. "How's palace life treating you?"
Riven groaned dramatically. "It's suffocating. I've only been here a day, and I'm already losing my mind."
Jorrik chuckled. "You'll survive one more day."
Riven sighed, running a hand through his hair. "How's Kael?"
Jorrik leaned back. "She's fine. Keeping busy. Training. Studying. Planning."
Riven smirked. "Sounds like her."
"Oh, and she likes your gifts."
Riven raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Jorrik nodded. "The daggers especially. I've never seen her actually pleased with anything before."
Riven's smirk widened. "I do have a way with gifts."
Jorrik sighed. "She also thinks you were being ridiculous with the clothes."
Riven chuckled. "She'll appreciate them when we travel."
Jorrik hesitated before adding, "She smiled when she read your letter."
Riven paused.
Then, slowly, his smirk softened.
He stretched his arms behind his head. "Good."
Jorrik sighed. "You're hopeless."
Riven grinned. "And yet, here I am."
Jorrik shook his head and stood. "Get some rest. We have one more day of this."
Riven groaned. "Can't wait."
Jorrik left, closing the door behind him.
Riven leaned back, gazing at the stars once more.
Just one more day.
Then, the real adventure would begin.