Here is the truth: My brother, Ettrian, was to be betrothed to Irune, or to any of his elder Khriskhana brothers. But the man is a hopeless romantic, something I always believed to be his only weakness.

In this world where political ties hold more weight than one's personal feelings, love can only be found in people who choose weakness over power. Left unchecked and given over to its own prowess, it can be weaponized, weakening men and stopping them from realizing their true potential.

But even when we were still young, I could see the love in my brother's eyes, clear as day. And they were always on the prince regent, Vamir vus-Ilialana.

It would be hilariously funny if it were not pitiful.

For many years, Ettrian had refused to initiate courtship, denied a great many marriage proposals. My Omega father, the dowager king-consort Eroan, had once threatened to deny him the throne, but Ettrian had not so much as batted an eye.

He wanted the Ilialana prince. Waited for him quietly and patiently. It's a passion that had been the bane of our Omega father's life.

And then, the border war happened. House Ilialana had been one of the smallest royal families in the Glass Empire. A strange blood sickness had plagued them for many years, further dwindling their numbers. And now, with House Khriskhana setting its sight on their rich deuklodite deposit, the kingdom of Ilialana is almost on its knees.

Ettrian took it as his opportunity. He had not even stalled. A day after King Beluar Ilialana's funeral, he asked Vamir for his hand in marriage. I had never seen my Omega father so livid.

Vamir's acceptance of my brother's marriage proposal did not come as a surprise either. It only demonstrated how important political ties were, especially to a royal family on the brink of collapse.

The truth is blinding in its intensity, but can Ettrian even see it? He waited and waited, until finally, he got what he wanted. Perhaps Vamir did, too. The irony of the situation had not escaped me.

Yes, I would laugh if it were not my brother—the Summer King himself—being blinded by love. The fear of it, the consequences of what could happen to him and to the kingdom, is precisely the reason I do not want to get involved in a one-sided love affair. For Irune and I, it could probably be worse—a loveless marriage merely bound by filial duties and obligations.

I do not want that for myself. For Irune who deserves more, deserves someone better and worthy of his love.

I could only wish my brother the best. And one day, maybe for myself, too.

By the time I got dressed, the royal entourage had already arrived at the main courtyard. Peals of cheers and laughter echoed between the high walls of the palace, people rushing about to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.

I linger at the back of the entrance hall, taking in the scene before me. There, surrounded by soldiers and veiled servants, are my brother and his betrothed.

I watch as Ettrian breaks the embrace, takes Vamir's hands and kisses them, his eyes never leaving the other's. In the midst of the crowd, they talk between themselves, lost in their own world, seemingly uncaring of their surroundings. Never before have I seen my brother filled with such great joy.

"Would you look at those clothes." A contemptible voice emerges from behind me. The dowager king-consort walks up beside me with a reproachful look on his face, glaring at the prince regent with a steely gaze. He leans close to me, cups a hand over his mouth and whispers, "Is that a drape he's wearing? It leaves nothing to the imagination. What utter depravity."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I held my Omega father firmly by the arm. "Father, it is House Ilialana's traditional betrothal outfit," I explain. "Not as shockingly outlandish as House Montagor's...loincloth."

I fix my gaze upon my brother's betrothed. It had been close to eight years since I had seen him last, and he has changed considerably since then.

From where I stand, I could only see one side of the prince regent's face. Like most Omegas, he has elegant features about him. The precious baby fat had all but disappeared, leaving a finely chiseled face, exquisite in its lines and contours that he seemed ethereal, an otherworldly beauty that seemed more like a fae than a man made of flesh and bone. Even in the shade, I could see his freckles standing out against his pale face, now glowing a flush of pink from the desert heat. His hair had grown long nearly waist-length, swept down in a blazing russet tide that rippled in a soft, natural wave; tousled with precious gems dotted randomly.

In this regard, I could not find fault with my brother's choice. Vamir vus-Ilialana is indeed a beauty to behold.

"Ours has always been the best," my father comments, and I nearly forget what we had been discussing until he gestures to my brother's outfit. "And the Khriskhanas, of course. Just look at Irune. My word, that boy could dress."

I made a noncommittal grunt. Surely this is an opening to an age-old subject I do not wish to discuss with him. Not now, or ever.

"Where is he, anyway?" My father looks left and right, searching for Irune in the crowd. And then, he turns to me, eyes narrowing into a confused frown. "Why is he not with you? Now could not be a more perfect time to show everyone you have already chosen your mate."

My eye twitches. "Father, I have not discussed such things with Irune," I deadpan through gritted teeth.

"Not yet, you mean," he retorts. "But you should, soon. The boy is at his prime. And by the Old Gods, Elyon, he is Khriskhana. Let not the gold slip out of your grasp." He slides his gaze back to my brother and his bridegroom, and scoffs. "I beg of you, Elyon. Do not be like your brother."

My father slips out of my grasp as he steps out to join the crowd now moving into the entrance hallway, a forced smile plastered on his face. The spell between Ettrian and Vamir breaks. The smiles sober into thoughtfulness as Ettrian squares his shoulders and looks at the crowd, and then to our father.

In the flurry of activities, I am confident nobody would know I had slipped away. I get two steps back to the west-wing hallway when Ettrian finally notices my presence, smiling in my direction.

"Elyon, don't be a spoilsport. Come over here!" my brother calls out, raising his voice over the crowd's excited chatter. And then, all eyes are on me.

Vamir had his back to me then, but when he turns around and I catch his gaze, I expected at least a flicker of a smile, a wave, a look of recognition.

Instead, his face falls, going paler than he already is, and his shoulders stiffen. I freeze in my tracks.

The look in his green and gold speckled eyes harden in a mixture of fear, anger, and a tinge of regret. And then, he drops his gaze, seeming to take a sudden interest in the floor.

Ettrian, oblivious to what had just passed between us, grabs my arm and pulls me toward Vamir, so now we come face to face. Still not meeting my eye, the prince regent bows curtly and says in a shaky and barely audible voice, "It's...It's good to see you again."

I watch as Vamir folds unto himself, lowering his head as the lump in his throat bobs up and down. A hand absently rubs at his left arm. The part of him I know has a scar, stretched like a tree root along the inside of his arm.

A part of him that's marred with the past I could no longer take back.

Of course. I am not forgiven. He had not forgotten my past transgressions.

Hurt flooded through me, exposing a pain I had not realized I felt. For some reason, that hurts me more than this reality before me. That my brother is about to marry the man I believed to be my fated mate.

Glossary of Terms:

'tus-' - prefix added to the family name of a third and succeeding sons