Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
SERIN
Sunlight poured through the chamber's windows like honey from an overturned jar, warm and golden and impossibly sweet. I stirred beneath silken sheets that felt like woven moonbeams against my skin, consciousness returning in slow, languorous waves.
There had been a dream. Such a sweet, wonderful dream that even as I grasped after its fading edges, my heart fluttered with remembered joy.
Rhazir had been there, I was certain of that much, but the details slipped away like water through cupped fingers.
Something about gardens and starlight, about hands gentle as whispers, about words I'd never dared speak aloud. ..
The memory dissolved entirely as familiar footsteps sounded in the corridor beyond my door.
Measured, purposeful strides that I could have identified in a crowd of thousands.
Rhazir, awake and armed and ready to face whatever the day might bring.
Clearly, sleeping until the sun reached its zenith was not among his plans for me.
I sighed and pushed myself upright, silk sliding away from skin still warm with sleep.
The seret lay draped across a chair where I'd left it the night before, a pool of blue fabric that caught the morning light like captured sky.
Getting into it proved more challenging without Rhazir's steady hands to guide the draping, and I fumbled with the unfamiliar fastenings until something resembling proper arrangement was achieved.
"Rhazir?" I called as I stepped into the larger chamber.
He turned from where he'd been examining the window, and my breath caught despite myself.
He wore his usual traveling garb, leather jerkin, sword belted at his hip, boots polished to a gleam that would have satisfied even my father's inspection.
But here, surrounded by the ethereal beauty of Eletherian craftsmanship, he looked like some warrior god stepped down from legend.
Dark hair fell across his brow in waves that begged for fingers to smooth them back, and his eyes. ..
"Your Highness." His gaze swept over me with professional assessment, checking the seret's drape and fit. "The garment suits you well."
Those dark eyes lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and something warm and giddy bloomed in my chest like spring flowers after winter frost. When had I begun to crave his attention so? When had the simple act of him looking at me become something that made my pulse quicken?
"It feels strange," I admitted, smoothing the silk with suddenly nervous fingers. "So much lighter than our clothing at home."
A shadow of something crossed his features, memory, perhaps, or longing. "Eight years ago, when I first came to serve you, everything felt strange. The weight of your clothing, the taste of your food, the sound of your language on my tongue."
I could still remember the day he'd been presented to me, one of several candidates for the position of companion and guard, though he'd stood apart from the others like a blade among butter knives.
Where the noble-born boys had preened and postured, he'd simply waited with patient stillness that spoke of depths I was only beginning to fathom.
Most princes cycled through companions like tunics, discarding them when novelty wore thin or more interesting prospects appeared.
But Rhazir had been different from the very beginning.
Quietly brilliant, utterly reliable, loyal to a degree that sometimes frightened me with its intensity.
He knew me better than anyone, though perhaps that only meant he knew a fraction more than nothing at all.
"Shall we break our fast?" I suggested, suddenly eager to escape the weight of memory and the dangerous warmth that spread through me whenever I looked at him too long.
"Of course, Your Highness."
He moved toward the door with that fluid motion I'd watched for years without truly seeing.
Now every step seemed calculated to draw attention to the play of muscle beneath fabric, to the warrior's grace that marked him as surely as any brand.
When had I become so aware of him as something other than my faithful shadow?
The common room had transformed in daylight from the intimate space of the night before into an airy chamber where morning sun painted everything in shades of gold and cream.
We were served a feast that would have fed half my father's court, fruit so ripe it seemed to glow from within, bread that crumbled like clouds between my teeth, cheese aged to perfection in caves I could only imagine.
Cold milk beaded the pitcher with condensation, and I drank deeply, tasting freedom in every drop.
"Magnificent," I murmured, watching Rhazir arrange for porters to carry Priest Myris's gifts up to the palace complex.
He nodded absently, already focused on practical concerns. "The climb will be easier without the burden."
Together we stepped into sunlight that seemed kinder here than it ever had at home, where it beat down on black volcanic stone like the fury of angry gods.
Here it filtered through olive leaves and dancing vines, dappling everything in patterns of light and shadow that made the world seem painted rather than grown.
The path wound upward through terraces of impossible lushness, gardens where flowers bloomed in riots of color, fountains where water sang sweetly as it fell, groves where fruit hung heavy and ripe for the taking.
It was abundance made manifest, nature shaped by loving hands rather than conquered by iron will.
"We battle the earth as much as we battle other men," Rhazir observed, his voice carrying notes of wonder despite his attempts at neutrality.
"Perhaps that is our greatest mistake," I replied, meaning it more than I'd expected to.
His dark eyes found mine, searching. "It is the way of our people."
The sadness in his tone cut deeper than any blade.
Did he truly believe that, or was he simply repeating lessons hammered into him during those early years of brutal training?
He'd been torn from everything he'd known, family, homeland, the very language of his thoughts, and forged into the perfect weapon through methods I preferred not to contemplate too closely.
Sometimes I wondered what remained of the boy he'd been before the Three Isles claimed him.
"Your Highness," he said suddenly, breaking into thoughts I hadn't realized had grown so dark. "Should I make inquiries about ships bound for home?"
The question hit me like cold water, washing away the warm contentment that had been building in my chest. "We have only just arrived, old friend."
"But His Majesty—"
"No ship, Rhazir." The words came out sharper than I'd intended, carrying enough princely authority to make him step back slightly.
Yes, I knew my father lay dying somewhere on the dark waters between here and home.
Yes, I knew the crown waited for me like a patient predator.
Yes, I knew lords would squabble and scheme until the succession was settled.
But could I not have a few more days of this golden dream before the iron reality closed around me forever?
Before he could respond, a voice called out from the path ahead. "Your Highness! What perfect timing."
A priest approached with arms spread in welcome, his sea-green robes flowing like water around his lean frame. Behind him walked another figure, a man with silver hair that caught the morning light like polished precious metals, his bearing noble despite his simple garments.
“I am Callis. I welcome you to Eletheria. The high priests are occupied with morning prayers," the priest explained with apologetic grace, "but the palace fairly vibrates with excitement at your arrival. Everyone wishes to meet the Prince of the Three Isles."
He gestured to a young acolyte who waited nearby, the same beautiful youth who'd graced the temple grove yesterday, now clothed in robes that did nothing to diminish his ethereal appeal. “Ander will show you to your chambers. I trust you'll find them suitable."
The priest's attention shifted to his silver-haired companion, and something in his expression softened in a way that made my pulse quicken with recognition. Here was love, open and unashamed, displayed with the casual intimacy of those who need not hide their hearts.
"Until later, then," Callis said with another bow before gliding away, his companion falling into step beside him with matched grace.
I watched them go with something that might have been envy, then followed young Ander up paths that grew more magnificent with each turn. The palace complex unfolded before us like a fever dream of marble and gold, its gardens cascading down the hillside in waterfalls of color and scent.
Our chambers, when we reached them, stole what little breath I had remaining.
The rooms sprawled across an entire wing of the palace, their windows offering views that made the heart soar.
Moonstones provided gentle illumination in shadowed corners while sunstones radiated warmth wherever it was needed.
Books lined the walls in leather-bound rows, their titles promising adventures in languages I'd only dreamed of reading.
Comfortable chairs invited long hours of contemplation, while a bed large enough for three men occupied one wall like an altar to luxury itself.
"Isn't this the most wondrous place?" I breathed, turning slowly to take in every detail.
Rhazir stood near the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. "It does seem full of wonders."
Something in his tone made me study his face more closely. "Why do you dislike it?"
"I don't dislike it."
"What, then?"
He ran his fingers through dark hair, and the motion made muscles swell beneath his jerkin in ways that left me suddenly light-headed. When had I become so aware of the strength coiled in his frame? When had the simple sight of him become something that made my mouth go dry?
"We don't belong here," he said finally, the words heavy with reluctance.
"Nobody belongs anywhere, old friend. People adopt and people adapt."
"We have a home." His voice carried conviction I wished I could share. "And the home needs us."
My heart sank like a stone cast into deep water. "Yet here we are, surrounded by beauty, poetry, and boys."
"Naked boys," he said, and was that disapproval or something else entirely in his tone?
"Do you object?"
He bit his lip, and the simple gesture sent heat spiraling through me for reasons I didn't dare examine. "I... no. Not object, precisely."
"I quite fancy their leisurely crassness," I admitted with a laugh that came out breathier than intended. "There's something refreshing about such honesty. No hidden agendas, no careful calculations. Just beauty for its own sake."
"Is that what you call it?" His voice held notes of amusement I hadn't heard in days. "Honesty?"
"What would you call it?"
"Dangerous." But he was almost smiling as he said it, and for a moment we were simply two young men sharing a jest rather than prince and protector bound by duty and distance.
This was what I treasured most about our friendship - these rare moments when the careful formality fell away and I could glimpse the person beneath the role.
Rhazir was the only one who never flattered me for gain, never sweetened truth with honeyed lies.
If anything, he barely offered compliments at all, which made each one precious as pearls when they came.
"You're the only honest person I know," I said without thinking, then immediately regretted the confession when something vulnerable flickered in his eyes.
"Your Highness—"
"Serin." The correction came automatically. "We're alone, old friend. Surely you can spare me the formality?"
He was quiet for a long moment, and I found myself holding my breath as he seemed to wrestle with some internal debate. Finally: "The honest truth is that this place makes me... uneasy."
"Because of the naked boys?"
"Because of what it represents." His hands flexed at his sides, a gesture I recognized as barely controlled agitation. "Freedom from consequence. Pleasure without price. It feels like a trap disguised as paradise."
"And what if it's paradise disguised as a trap?" I countered, though his words sent unwelcome chill through my veins. "What if this is what life could be like without the weight of crowns and conquest?"
The silence that followed stretched taut as a bowstring. In it, I heard all the things neither of us dared say, that I was running from my destiny, that he was enabling my escape, that every moment we lingered here was another step away from the harsh realities waiting at home.
"The lords will not wait forever," he said finally, his voice soft as prayer.
"I know." The words tasted like ashes. "But must we return to such thoughts so soon? Can we not have a few days to simply... exist? To walk in gardens where no one bleeds, to hear poetry instead of calls to arms, to pretend for just a little while that the world can be beautiful?"
His expression cracked slightly, revealing depths of pain I rarely glimpsed. "Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"You meant to protect me. You always do." I reached out before I could stop myself, fingers brushing his hand in comfort. The contact sent lightning through my veins, and I jerked back as if burned. "I need some air. Privacy to think."
"I'll accompany you."
"No." The word came out harsher than intended, and I softened it with what I hoped was an apologetic smile. "I wish to walk alone in the orchard. To clear my head."
The horror that crossed his features was almost comical. Letting me wander unprotected was clearly against every instinct he possessed, professional and personal alike.
"Your Highness, I hardly think—"
"The worst that can happen is a branch catching my seret and undressing me, Rhazir. Relax."
If anything, this assurance made him look more stricken. The idea of me naked and vulnerable, even accidentally, painted such obvious distress across his features that I had to bite back laughter.
"I'll be fine," I promised, already moving toward the door. "What manner of danger could possibly find me in paradise?"
His expression suggested he could think of several, but he didn't voice them. Instead, he bowed with stiff formality that told me how deeply my dismissal had wounded him.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
I paused at the threshold, wanting to say something that might ease the tension between us, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I stepped into afternoon sunlight that seemed less golden now, leaving behind the one person who'd never asked anything of me save the privilege of keeping me safe.
Even in paradise, it seemed, I was destined to walk alone.