The midday light bathed the training grounds as Eidan clashed steel against his fiercest rival. Each strike rang out—sharp, firm, executed with precision and discipline. Since childhood, he had learned that a king could not afford distractions in the heat of battle… and yet, lately, his mind kept returning to the same name.

Fate—or diplomacy—had bound them together under a promise neither of them had chosen. And still, Eidan had never felt it as a burden. He had grown up with the quiet certainty that, one day, he would reign at his side.

That was why he trained without rest. That was why he had become one of the finest swordsmen in the kingdom. He had defeated, at least once, every renowned duelist in Diodain—except one: Dyro.

Sven’s half-brother executed every strike with an ease that was infuriating. His movements were swift, precise, almost devoid of emotion. Those sharp gray eyes watched him as though the fight barely deserved his attention—and that stung Eidan’s pride more than any blow.

As he raised his sword with both hands, he caught sight of his opponent’s long, silver hair dancing with each turn, merging with the blade as though the two were one.

He failed to fully evade the next strike.

The impact threw him off balance, and Dyro seized the opening to bring him down with a decisive blow. Eidan hit the ground hard, feeling his blood boil at being defeated once again.

He was about to rise when he noticed movement among the guards.

Sven’s figure was crossing the field.

At the sight of him, something in his chest softened.

Sven had always been like that—a serene presence, almost unreal, as if he belonged to a place beyond the world around them. Eidan forced himself not to approach immediately.

“Challenging my brother again?” Sven remarked with an amused smile.

“I have to surpass him in everything,” Eidan shot back bitterly, brushing the dust from himself.

Dyro scoffed, with the confidence of someone who felt no threat.

Sven sat on one of the benches and handed Eidan the canteen he carried. The young king sat beside him, feeling an unexpected warmth at being so close.

“I wish the two of you would get along someday,” Sven said gently.

“Be satisfied that we don’t try to kill each other during training,” Eidan replied, his tone rough.

Sven studied them for a moment. Though they were physical opposites—Dyro, a Delphenian with silver hair and a cold gaze; Eidan, a child of the sun, tall, strong, and radiant—they shared the same stubbornness.

And in different ways, both held an important place in his life.

“Who is that in the drawing?” the blond asked, nodding toward the sketchbook Sven carried under his arm, where the faint portrait of a woman could be seen.

“I don’t really know,” he answered after a moment. “Perhaps someone I know.”

His voice carried a note of nostalgia, and Eidan felt a flicker of jealousy settle in his chest. He didn’t press further. There was something far more important he needed to say.

He had spent months thinking about how to do it—rehearsing the words in his mind, searching for the right moment. And even after knowing Sven all his life, he had never felt so reluctant to speak.

“I need to talk to you,” he finally said, gripping the hilt of his sword nervously. An uneasy swirl twisted in his gut.

Sven turned toward him, but his gaze wasn’t entirely there. His pale eyes reflected the open sky beyond the columns, as if something unseen were calling for his attention.

“Yes?” he replied softly.

Eidan clenched his hands into fists. This wasn’t how he had imagined the moment—not when Sven seemed so distant, so wrapped in thoughts he couldn’t reach.

“Never mind,” he murmured at last. “I just… wanted to know if you’re alright.”

“Yes,” Sven answered after a brief pause. “I’m sorry—I’ve been more distracted than usual lately.”

“You know you can tell me whatever—”

The metallic sound cut him off.

Dyro drove his sword into the ground before them with an impatient gesture.

“Are you going to keep training today, Your Highness, or have you had enough falls?”

Damn you.

Irritation surged through him all at once. In moments like that, Eidan was certain Dyro did not share a single drop of blood with Sven.

“We’ll talk another time,” he said coldly.

He grabbed his weapon and threw himself back into the duel, channeling his frustration into every strike.

Sven watched for a few seconds, uneasy. He didn’t want to witness another fight that would only aggravate Eidan further. At last, he rose and slipped away in silence.

The warm night wrapped around the Redmond estate. The chirping of crickets mingled with the flicker of fireflies drifting in through the library window, where Sven sat with a book in his hands that he was not reading.

The events of the past few days left him restless. Even on a night as ordinary as this, he felt out of place. His dreams, the vision in Nox’s cabin, the voice of that woman who would not stop calling to him… it all seemed to point to one truth: for years, he had been living a false sense of peace.

Since the night he and Dyro were brought to that very mansion.

Since the moment he was told he would never again be called Prince. It was a secret that now felt fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering.

He was lost in these thoughts when the library door burst open. Lady Amelia Redmond entered with a smile of barely contained excitement, followed closely by her husband.

“Oh, my dear, what a blessing,” she exclaimed.

Sven rose at once and gave a slight bow.

“Lady Amelia.”

She cupped his cheek as he straightened, looking at him with pride.

“Congratulations, Sven,” Lord Redmond added in a calm voice.

The young man did not understand the reason for such joy. He could not recall having done anything worthy of celebration. Then, like an uneasy echo, he remembered the nervousness he had noticed in Eidan the day before.

He opened his mouth to ask, but Lady Amelia spoke first.

“The Queen Mother visited us today with the young King,” she announced. “He has come to formally ask for your hand.”

Sven felt the air grow heavier in his lungs.

“The wedding will take place in a few days.”