“This is your idea of a simple lunch?”

“Is it not yours, m’lady?” Kaelen replied smartly, making Riven’s eyebrow twitch as she fought to stay polite. Despite his offers of a simple and small lunch, Kaelen had brought her to one of the most opulent dining establishments in the capital. Known for its elaborate chandeliers, gilded archways, and exquisitely prepared dishes, the place catered almost exclusively to the most elite of Vassoria’s nobility. Riven had been here only once in her previous life, and while it had been an impressive experience then, it was hardly the setting she wanted for what was supposed to be a brief meal.

Kaelen seemed unbothered by the luxury, strolling ahead with an easy elegance, his head tilted toward her with a faint, knowing smile that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. Riven had to draw a careful breath to keep her irritation in check as they entered. Around them, heads turned, a few curious glances cast their way by nobility recognizing Kaelen’s name, his title—perhaps even the Marlowe colors she wore. Kaelen had no doubt chosen this restaurant deliberately but whether to impress her or to make a statement, she wasn’t yet certain.

“I thought you’d appreciate a fine meal,” Kaelen said, the corner of his mouth turning upward as he settled them into their seats. Riven’s smile held firm as she took her seat, but her annoyance with the situation. Kaelen seemed entirely too pleased with himself, lounging back with a practiced ease that suggested he’d grown up surrounded by this level of grandeur. His gaze met hers with a spark of amusement, as if daring her to keep up the charade of polite acceptance.

“This place does have its charm,” Riven replied smoothly, settling into her seat as she allowed her gaze to wander over the intricately painted walls, which were adorned with scenes of Vassoria’s legendary battles and mythical victories. “But it might be a bit much for a simple lunch, don’t you think?”

Kaelen’s laugh was soft, more a hum than a full laugh, and his eyes held that same, unreadable glint. “Perhaps I misjudged. In Qatia, such settings are quite ordinary. A bit gaudy, perhaps, but... fitting, nonetheless.”

Riven couldn’t help as her lips twitched and her frustration grew as she realized Kaelen had noticed it. The difference is he likely thought he had finally managed to see a hint of her honesty, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. Riven knew from the novel that Qatia was anything but extravagant; even before Kaelen retook the throne at the end of the book, Qatia had been on the verge of ruin, its opulent halls filled more with ghosts of former splendor than the sort of lush décor surrounding them now. She took a sip of water, disguising her annoyance with a placid smile.

“It’s good to know,” she replied smoothly, “that some things here in Vassoria might still surprise even a Qatian prince.”

“I see Eiryls has been forthcoming with our past,” Kaelen’s expression flickered ever so slightly, but he covered it quickly, his eyes lighting with a brief, entertained spark. Riven closed her eyes, chastising herself slightly; if he asked his sister, he would learn that Eiryls had never offered up that information at all. “But here, I am no such thing. Merely the son of a duke. After all, the empire doesn’t hold the same reverence for noble bloodlines as it seems to here.”

Riven tilted her head, feigning polite interest while her mind worked through his words. That… also wasn’t true. Qatia was just as bound to its nobles as Vassoria was and Lyra and Kaelen had worked hard to build their alliances without compromising their morals. But based on the slight pout on Kaelen’s lips, he… didn’t seem to be lying this time.

Riven’s fingers traced the delicate silverware in front of her as she considered Kaelen’s words, fueling her suspicions about the world they now inhabited. In Whispers of the Eternal Spring, Kaelen had always been far more guarded about Qatia’s customs, reluctant to share its failings. Yet here he spoke of the country almost dismissively, a hint of frustration underlying his tone, as though he didn’t share the same fierce loyalty to his homeland as he did after meeting Lyra. Was this a Kaelen who never met her and only knew the rejection of his people?

“I find it curious,” she said, allowing a note of genuine curiosity to slip into her voice, “that you’d speak so freely of Qatia’s customs and differences. Most nobles from your homeland tend to keep such things close to their chest when visiting.”

“Perhaps it’s that very secrecy that I find bothersome,” he replied, his gaze slipping briefly toward the entrance, where a few well-dressed patrons were murmuring and casting intrigued glances in their direction. He waved a hand dismissively, leaning back in his seat as their food was finally brought to the table. “Being here is like shedding an old layer. Or perhaps more like seeing clearly for the first time.”

She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. That was… almost word for word what Kaelen had said to Lyra as she showed him around her forest for the first time. It was like whiplash; hearing Calia’s phrases from the book always helped Riven to root for the former princess, to believe in her cause despite knowing it would lead to her death.

But hearing Kaelen’s lines as he directed that sentiment toward her, here in the very heart of the empire, left Riven feeling uneasy. Was it simply fate, echoing back upon itself, placing him in her orbit without his even knowing or was it Kaelen’s way of testing the waters?

“It sounds as if you were ready for a fresh start, or at least, a second chance,” Riven said carefully, her gaze slipping down to her plate as she delicately lifted her fork. She chose her words purposefully, opting to repeat Lyra’s words back to him. Kaelen didn’t seem phased by her statement, tasting his food as if her words meant nothing. He seemed to enjoy the taste of the dish in a way that suggested his familiarity with such luxuries, savoring the richness of the flavors. But his gaze shifted to her, his eyes holding a glint of surprise that she almost didn’t catch.

"Second chances are rare in any land,” he replied, his tone lighter but tinged with something thoughtful, as if weighing her reaction. “But it seems Vassoria has given me a certain… latitude to be whoever I need to be.”

“And who might that be, Kaelen?” Riven finally spoke bluntly, unable to hide her frustration. Everything about Kaelen just made her feel like she was losing control and like he was controlling the narrative; it was uncomfortable and if she couldn’t figure out his role, then she wanted nothing to do with him.

Kaelen seemed surprised by her sudden bluntness, but quickly composed himself, a faint smile teasing his lips. His eyes held a flash of amusement, though there was a guarded glint there, too, as though he were weighing his response.

“That’s a bold question, Lady Riven,” he replied, voice smooth but with a hint of intrigue. “But for now, let’s say that I am merely a man looking for answers, nothing more, nothing less.”

Riven finally stood, no longer willing to entertain Kaelen’s games. He was too much of a wildcard to be of use to her survival from Calia, and she started to motion for Noela to stand as well when she felt Kaelen’s hand on her arm. She turned to demand he release her, but the look on his face stopped her.

For once, Kaelen looked almost scared, as if he realized he’d overstepped in a way he hadn’t intended. His grip on her arm wasn’t tight, but there was a quiet urgency in it, his fingers gentle yet insistent. Riven glanced at his face, and she caught a glimpse of something deeper, almost akin to true fear.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, his tone so different from his earlier lightness that she hesitated, momentarily thrown off balance. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Lady Riven, but there are simply things that are… not easy to discuss.”

Riven’s resolve softened a fraction as she looked at him, recognizing the weight of something unspoken in his gaze. It was as if he carried a shadow all his own, a quiet burden that lingered behind his carefully crafted confidence. Though she wanted to pull away, to reassert her boundaries and not let herself be drawn into whatever game Kaelen was playing, that glimpse of vulnerability cracked her determination.

Taking a steadying breath, Riven sat back down, her composure slipping just enough to show her own frustration. “I am not asking you to tell secrets that you cannot share, Lord Kaelen. But I do not appreciate talking in riddles when the simple truth would suffice.”

“My apologies, Lady Riven,” he said quietly, leaning back in his chair, but his voice had lost the playful lilt it usually carried. “It’s not my intention to frustrate you. It’s just that I don’t quite know what my purpose here is.”

Riven felt her irritation falter, curiosity taking its place as she watched Kaelen’s expression. Gone was the charming, collected facade, replaced with something far more complex, a glimpse of something… honest.

“Let us finish our meal, Kaelen, without such heavy discussions then,” Riven offered, and the relief that flickered across his face was almost imperceptible, but she caught it. For the rest of the meal, he refrained from pressing her, letting the conversation drift to lighter topics.