17. 16 #3
Whispers in the night, too soft to name. Winds that howled without warning, strong enough to knock grown men to their knees. Children spoke of ghost stories, of shadows that moved without light.
Then the farmhouse nearest the treeline caught fire. No one had been inside. No one had even approached it. But it burned.
After that, the crops withered. Livestock vanished. People disappeared.
Still, they refused to leave.
Theodore had asked why. They’d answered with reverence: it was their ancestors’ land, protected by Meryth.
Lance had glanced at Theodore. Theodore had glanced back. And in that brief exchange, both had to restrain themselves from breaking their princely masks.
There were no gods here. Only grief.
Thistleveil had been the first to fall when Caelvorn struck, hidden in the woods, attacking under moonlight.
And the village had never recovered.
Lance had watched the way the villagers touched the runes carved into their doorframes as the soldiers passed, fingers brushing symbols, protection spells from a time before Moorthwyn’s rule.
As if the forest still listened. As if it still remembered.
As they neared the carriage, Lance’s gaze drifted past the stone homes to the treeline beyond.
He thought of Mabel’s words.
You survived. Maybe you could make it.
Maybe he could. Maybe the forest would know him. Maybe it would remember Velmirian blood.
Then—movement.
A flicker of copper between the trunks. Gone as quickly as it came.
Lance blinked, heart stuttering. He stared into the trees, searching for it again.
Nothing.
He shook his head and followed Theodore, gloved hands tucked into his pockets. The wind tugged at his collar, sharp and insistent, like it wanted to pull him back.
But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t look back.
Lance stepped up first, brushing snow from his coat before settling into his seat with practiced ease. He crossed one leg over the other and, with a flick of his fingers, conjured a book into his hand, one he likely had no intention of actually reading.
Theodore followed, pausing briefly at the door before stepping inside. He closed it behind him a little too firmly. His eyes drifted to Lance. So calm. So smug.
Theodore sat rigidly across from him, shoulders tense, jaw locked. His glare lingered but he couldn’t decide what burned hotter. The betrayal itself, or how effortlessly Lance wore it. Like it cost him nothing.
Lance leaned back, unbothered, the carriage rocking gently beneath them. “Are you going to keep sulking like a wounded animal,” he drawled, “or actually say something?” His voice was smooth.
Theodore’s fists curled. “You’d better wipe that smug look off your face before I break it,” he growled, voice charged.
Lance didn’t flinch. He barely looked up from the book in his lap. “Always so eager to throw punches,” he hummed. “Try using your brain for once, brother.”
“I’m not your brother,” Theodore snapped. “Not after this. Not after you poisoned Mabel with whatever twisted thoughts crawl through your head.”
Lance sighed, finally closing the book with a soft thud. “I didn’t have to poison anything,” he said. “You made it far too easy—you practically handed her to me. I didn’t need charm. Just honesty.”
Theodore’s eyes narrowed. “Honesty?”
Lance smiled, gaze steady. “Because when she’s with me, she doesn’t have to pretend.”
“And what exactly is she pretending?” Theodore snapped.
“That she wants this life,” Lance said, voice quiet but cutting. “That she wants the crown. That she wants you.”
Theodore’s fists clenched at his sides. “Then why is she still here? If she hated it so much, she’d leave!”
Lance scoffed, rising to meet him. “Or maybe she’s afraid. Afraid of what happens if she does. Have you ever thought of that?”
Theodore shook his head, jaw tight. “She’s not a prisoner. She can make her own choices.”
“Then let her,” Lance said, stepping closer. “Strip away the titles. The duty. The pressure.”
Theodore’s brows pulled together as he made the realization.
“You have feelings for her.” He scoffed.
“And here I thought you were doing all of this as some trick—a stupid game so you could prove some idiotic point.” He shook his head, eyes wild as they pierced Lance.
“I would have actually preferred that but no—you’ve taken it even further than that, you selfish bastard! ”
“Stop calling me that!” Lance seethed, shoving Theodore.
Hurt bit at the words as they rang through the carriage.
“You think you’re the victim in this?” he snapped.
“You, with your title and your birthright? You’ve always had everything handed to you while I clawed my way just to be tolerated.
” He took a step forward, eyes burning. “You don’t know what it’s like to walk into every room and feel like an intruder.
To be reminded with every glance that no matter how many times I bleed for this kingdom, I’ll still be the outsider Thalen dragged in after a war you don’t even remember. ”
Lance’s breathing slowed. The edge in his voice dulled as the weight of it caught up to him.
He looked away, chest rising and falling with something heavier than anger.
“I didn’t want this life. I didn’t ask for the name or the palace or the blood-soaked legacy.
But it was all I had. So I did what I could with it.
” His voice dropped to something quiet. Steady.
“And then she came along. And for once, someone looked at me without seeing a burden. Without comparing me to you. She listened. She stayed. She smiled like I hadn’t already lost.” He let out a bitter laugh, barely a breath.
“You can call it betrayal. You can call it reckless.” He turned back to Theodore, eyes weary now.
“But I didn’t steal her from you, Theo,” Lance said, voice calm, almost pitying.
“Maybe you just never realized she was never yours to begin with.”
Theodore’s chest heaved, breath ragged, fury boiling beneath his skin. “You’re right,” he spat. “You are the outsider. The parasite clinging to a kingdom that was never yours.” His voice cracked like ice, brittle and cruel. “You’ve always been the burden. The mistake we never should’ve let in.”
Lance’s fists curled at his sides, knuckles taut, but he held his ground. “It’s almost amusing,” he said, voice dry. “All this fury—and none of it will change her heart. If anything, you’re handing it to me.”
Theodore’s eyes darkened. “You really think I’ll let her choose anyone but me?” His voice dropped. “When we return, you’ll see just how easily I can rewrite the story. Erase you. Like it never happened.”
Lance’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed calm.
“You’ll regret that.” He stepped closer, gaze unwavering.
“You can command her silence. You can cage her body. But you’ll never own her love.
” He turned away, settling into his seat, eyes fixed on the blur of trees and stone beyond the carriage window.
Theodore’s glare didn’t waver.
He could strike him. Break his nose. Leave him bloodied and silent.
But that would be mercy.
No—he’d wound him deeper. He’d take the one thing Lance couldn’t bear to lose. Mabel would be his. Not by love.
By force. By inevitability.
The carriage rumbled forward, indifferent to the storm brewing within. Wheels groaned over stone, shadows stretched long across Aurevyn’s hills as the sun dipped low, gilding rooftops in fading gold. It rolled into the castle grounds, swallowed by the looming silhouette of Aurevyn’s walls.
Frey and Thalen stood at the front, arms linked in pride. Mabel lingered just to their left, picking at her nails, gaze distant.
Theodore stepped out first. His eyes found hers instantly.
And for a breath, she saw it, the flicker of something sharp behind them. Anger. Knowledge. But it vanished beneath a smile too smooth to be real.
Lance followed, and her eyes flicked to him without meaning to. He was already watching her.
But Theodore didn’t pause. He didn’t wait for Thalen’s welcome or Frey’s praise. He climbed the steps with purpose, straight toward her.
Before she could react, he pulled her in and crushed his mouth to hers.
Her eyes flew open, startled. She grabbed his arms to steady herself under the force of it, breath stolen.
Behind them, Lance lingered, unreadable. He stepped up to his parents, dipping his head in greeting.
Thalen tore his gaze from Theodore long enough to clasp Lance’s shoulder and offer congratulations. Frey followed with a nod.
Mabel pulled back, gasping for air, but Theodore didn’t let go. He took her hand and tugged her forward, leading her inside with a grip that didn’t ask—it demanded.
She stumbled after him, dazed.
Just before the doors closed, her eyes caught Lance’s again.
And something in his expression made her chest tighten. Because she didn’t know what Theodore knew. But she could feel it.
Something had shifted.