“The emerald dragon, the crimson phoenix… and the silver ouroboros, hmm… Classic, I must say, my dear princeling.”

“If you stepped in here to judge me, you are also welcome to step out.”

The young heir of the Prevoirs found himself a seat within the parlor being used by the younger Hariq-blooded royal. Khres hummed low, appreciating the display of silk and ribbons in the middle of the room as the prince danced and leaped in the air.

He stopped in the middle of the routine, brows furrowed. “I keep on fumbling that one jump, though. Am I putting my weight wrong?”

“I think you’re doing fine, for… you know, a secret hobby that only me, you, and your sister know.”

Indak’s face dropped. He threw his ribbons against Khres, who simply caught them. “Come on already. It’s not like you’re bad at it. I am sure, if everyone knows that this is what you’re truly passionate about, they’ll understand. I’ll vouch for Aleph. I’m sure he will support you, you’re his brother. You don’t have to keep your talent all to yourself.”

“And what? What will they say about me? The royal prince is a fire dancer and that’s all he wanna do in life. He actually doesn’t like politics and actually wants to wear pretty clothes made of silk. How’s that? With Al becoming the heir to father instead of Likha, it’s already begun to impact us in a not-so-good way. If I pursue this thing publicly… it’ll be a scandal.” Indak confessed as he walked towards the couch Khres was seated on.

He let himself fall beside the seer, “Thanks, though, for listening.”

“We’re friends, silly. I am here for you, no matter how hard it gets.” Khres gave him a wide, dimpled smile.

“Ugh,” Indak rolled his eyes. “I can totally see why Al fell hard for you. That smile. That was the start of his downfall. Oh, what a poor lad.”

“Hey! I am just as in love with him, you know. Remember how scared he was when I started pursuing him romantically?” Khres giggled. “I didn’t stop pestering him until I got what I wanted. He couldn’t help but give in. It was inevitable.”

“He was scared because his childhood crush suddenly wanted to bed him, Khres. He was in denial for a few months. Give him grace!” Indak shook his head.

“Hmm. No grace given in love and war, my dear princeling.”

“Quite correct,” a feminine voice said as the door opened and closed.

Indak watched Likha walk towards them, “You always do that! Just knock like a normal person.”

“Sorry,” smiled Likha as she sat opposite the men. And then she just broke down, letting her head fall against the edge of the couch’s backrest, “I just needed to escape from my study and my quarters are soooo quiet without my handmaiden around. Anyway, I was measuring the heat of the substance I was working on and then… everything just went to smoke! I could not quite get it right! I have been cross-referencing four books the whole afternoon and I am just… stuck. I am so, so, so stuck. ”

“That bad?” Khres scrunched up his nose. “But aren’t you quite happy with the… recent administrative changes in your household? You have enough time to go back to your alchemy now. Fun, right?”

Likha gave Khres a glare. Indak also narrowed his eyes at his friend. Khres giggled, “Fine, next topic it is then.” He reached his hand and poured himself a cup of hibiscus tea. “I was informed that House Silvestris was to make their move the soonest. House Vind and House Ilyn feel more or less threatened. If things develop as we hope they would, both houses might vouch against Silvestris, no matter the cost.”

Likha eyed the seer, “And if that information proved to be a mistake?”

“Visions do not lie,” smiled Khres. “Yet they are as fragile as castles made of sand. They can be molded, washed away by the tide, and then molded once more. Small clues from the future, to make sense of what lies in front of us.”

Khres looked at the princess, who was left deep in thought. She has the same silver hair as her eldest brother yet Likha’s eyes are as brown as burnt mahogany, a manifestation of her Hariq blood.

“Your grandmother, is she still…?”

“I am afraid so, my princess,” Khres replied, his lips pressed in a line. “I am afraid so.”

Likha nodded, collected the hem of her gown, and stood up. She looked at Indak, “Clean this room. I am going to seek an audience with Mom. You’re coming with me to see her tonight, brother.”

As the princess stepped out of the parlor, Khres gave the empty doorway a lame wave, “Thousand blessings to you, your Highness…”

Indak stood up, “Things will be very annoying around here, then. Good to know.”

“Indeed,” was the only thing Khres could muster as a response. Things began rolling down the hill too fast, even for him. Can sand castles already built with clay and iron still be toppled down by the tide on time?

Aleph and Emet guided their horses to graze farther from the riverbanks before making their way to the edge of the water. Cleo’s Woods, named for the first Queen Regnant of Chrysopoeia, was usually empty of people without a hunt happening, and it was the same today. Aleph was sure that there were some rangers around, but they probably would stay away from the two royals. 

Emet ran to the edge of the river, but he stopped to pick up some pebbles from the shore. Aleph watched as each small pebble turned into precious metals when Emet held them between his fingers. Even now, he marveled at his brother’s skill in using the transmutation part of the Erstellen gift. 

“So? Why are you avoiding the envoys?” Aleph opened the conversation as he stripped off his boots and sat at the edge of the water, letting the cool stream of it lapping at his ankles. “I thought you’d be happy to receive word from Lady Loreza. Did you have a fight with her?” 

Emet clenched his jaw stubbornly as he threw the now precious stones into the water. “It’s not fighting,” he insisted. 

Aleph scoffed and gave his brother a look of disbelief. “Sure, Emy,” he said. “And the sky isn’t blue.” 

“What does that even mean!?” Emet demanded, curling his hands into fists around the common pebbles still in his left hand. 

“I just mean that there’s no use denying what’s already obvious.” 

Emet made a frustrated noise, and the pebbles dropped from his hand. He stomped towards Aleph and took a seat beside him, pulling his knees to his chest instead of letting his feet dangle in the water. “I hate it when you all do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Court speak,” Emet said with a scowl. “All those fancy words, saying things while meaning another. I already had to learn to speak “properly” instead of how I did when I was a kid, and now everyone expects me to learn how to lie.” 

“It’s not really lying,” Aleph said with a sigh, though he understood his brother’s words all the same. Aleph didn’t like the doublespeak some people tend to use in court, but unlike Emet, he had been raised in court. He had learned to be a prince, even if he was not the heir, since he was born. He was the eldest of his siblings, and he had more time to experience such things. 

“It is,” Emet insisted. “It’s stupid!”  

“I hardly think you fought with Lady Loreza over the way people speak in court,” Aleph said, trying to bring their conversation back on track. 

He can see Emet hesitating to speak. His brother tracked the birds flitting about in the opposite bank, something dark and resigned in the set of his mouth and the tightening at the corners of his eyes. Finally, when Aleph thought he really wasn’t going to speak, Emet admitted the truth. “She asked me which side I was planning to take.” 

Aleph froze at those words, his heart stuttering and his breath catching in his throat. He understood Emet’s hesitation now, but he didn’t really know what to tell him. 

At his silence, Emet looked at him with wide pleading eyes. “Say something,” the youngest prince said, with something akin to desperation in his eyes, in the stiff set of his shoulders and his clenched fists. “There’s not actually going to be a war, right?” 

“Is that what Lady Loreza says?” 

“She said–” Emet bit his lip before giving a strangled sigh. He stood up in a burst of energy, pacing around like a caged animal on the shores of the river. When he spoke, he did so in a panicked rush, hands gesturing angrily. “She told me that there was not a chance that Lord Hariq would allow his granddaughter to be passed over for the crown.”

“She said that your grandfather probably leveraged our father’s love for your mother and Acero’s minerals for your position. She said that neither of them or any of their allies will ever give up, and it didn’t matter what any of us thought!” 

Aleph couldn’t stand to look at that despairing expression in his little brother’s silver-blue eyes–a look that expected too much of him. He looked away, staring instead at the rushing waters of the river, an unstoppable force of nature. 

“Aleph, please,” his brother pleaded, coming to sit by him again. All the energy seemed to drain from Emet, and his shoulders drooped. He let his head rest on Aleph’s shoulder, breathing heavily from his earlier tirade. “Say something. You ain’t actually—you and Likha won’t–” 

“She’s right,” Aleph admitted, and he tried to ignore the choked noise from his brother. “It doesn’t matter what we think. Even if I concede my place to Likha, there will be people who will think that I was forced into it, people rallying behind my name no matter what my choices actually are. There will be–” 

“I hate it,” Emet said. He laced his hands together, clenched so hard that Aleph could see them shaking. “I don’t understand it. I don’t want a war.”

“If we play things right, there shouldn’t be one,” Aleph insisted, and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince his brother or himself. 

The stare that Emet turned to him then was disbelieving, with a coldness that he’s never associated with his carefree little brother, the boy who had never let his life on the streets break him. “And how do we play things right, brother? Is there any guarantee to your words?” 

“I’ll figure it out,” Aleph said. 

“Fine,” Emet said with a slump to his shoulders as he stood again. “I’m going for a walk.” 

“Emy,” Aleph called out before his brother could go too far. 

Emet cocked his head, looking over his shoulders with an expectant look. 

“Will you ever choose a side?” 

Emet laughed then, a sound so unlike his usual laughter, grating, and dark. “You just told me I wouldn’t have to,” he said. “Don’t make a liar of yourself now, Al.”