The streets of Diodain overflowed with celebration. At every corner, people spoke of the same event, with eager smiles and voices raised in excitement. The Cathedral of Elios had been adorned with white flowers and ribbons draped along its sides, and barriers were already being set up along the path that would connect the palace to the god’s altar.

The entire kingdom seemed to be celebrating something that had not yet come to pass.

“The preparations have been completed on time,” Queen Catherine announced, raising her glass with pride. “Let us drink to that.”

“I never doubted it with you in charge, Mother,” Eidan replied, mirroring her with a sincere smile.

“You have made an extraordinary effort, Your Majesty,” Sven added, bowing respectfully.

The queen regarded him with affection.

“From now on, you will call me Mother, my dear.”

Their glasses chimed softly as they drank. Catherine resumed speaking at once, listing procedures, schedules, and arrangements with the precision that defined her.

Sven barely listened. When she mentioned the word crowd, something twisted inside him—an old discomfort he had never quite managed to overcome.

Eidan did not take his eyes off him. He noticed the subtle shift in his expression, the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. He lowered his gaze while his mother spoke about tiaras and ornaments.

Suddenly, a brief surge ran through the arm with which Sven held his glass. He looked down just in time to see the liquid crystallize completely, trapped within translucent ice that emitted a faint, almost imperceptible glow.

He stood abruptly, startling the other two.

“I must apologize for today, Your Majesty,” he said, striving to keep his voice steady. “I am feeling somewhat tired.”

The queen nodded without suspicion.

“Of course, my dear. You must rest well in these final days.”

Sven inclined his head and left with determined steps, not allowing himself to look back.

Even so, he did not need to know that a pair of green eyes followed him as he walked away.

From the balcony of his chamber, Sven watched the lights of Diodain stretch out like a warm sea, scattered with torches and lanterns. The distant murmur of the city reached him softened, almost reverent. He lifted his gaze to the sky: the moon was nearly full.

The air was cool. Welcome.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Come in.”

“Can’t you sleep?”

He did not turn immediately. He would recognize Eidan’s voice anywhere, even in dreams.

“I wanted to look at it for a while,” he replied, without taking his eyes off the moon.

Eidan stepped closer and leaned against the railing beside him. For a few seconds, he said nothing. He watched the city lights as if searching for something among them.

“Lately…” he began, then stopped. “Lately, I feel like you’ve been distant.”

Sven curled his fingers around the cold stone of the balcony.

“I’m here.”

“I know,” Eidan answered at once. “That’s not what I mean.”

He turned his face slightly toward him. The moonlight softened his features in a way that almost hurt.

“You speak to me, walk beside me, smile,” he continued. “But I know you too well. There’s something troubling you. Something that hurts.”

Sven’s heart gave a sharp jolt.

“That isn’t my intention,” he said honestly. “It never has been.”

Eidan studied him carefully, as if weighing every gesture, every pause.

“I want to know the truth,” he said at last. “Even if… even if it’s painful.”

Sven looked away.

“I want to know if you regret our marriage.”

The question fell between them with unexpected weight. Sven’s eyes widened in surprise. He had never imagined his silence could be interpreted that way.

It wasn’t Eidan. It had never been him.

“If you don’t feel the same way I do…” the king continued, his gaze lowered, “I would rather know now.”

The prince took a slow breath.

There were too many things he could not say. And only one he could touch without breaking everything.

“I can’t stop thinking about what happened years ago,” he finally confessed.

Eidan tensed and turned toward him. His pale eyes reflected the moon like a still lake, but beneath the surface, something restless stirred.

“For some time now, I’ve felt as though something is calling to me,” Sven continued. “I don’t know how else to explain it. As if every step I take here pulls me further away from something that belongs to me… or from what I belong to.”

“Delphen?” Eidan asked quietly.

Sven nodded.

“The catastrophe, the shadows, the pain—they return to me in my dreams. Every night.”

The silence that followed was fragile.

“That night took too much from us,” Eidan said bitterly. “Your family. My father.”

He lowered his gaze, fingers tightening against the railing.

“And we could do nothing to stop the ruin of the kingdom we were meant to protect.”

Sven felt the helplessness in his voice.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking that perhaps…” he hesitated, “perhaps it is my duty to return and understand what happened.”

Eidan flinched.

“Return?”

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

“No,” he said at once, more quietly, a tremor breaking through his voice. “Don’t speak like that.”

He looked at him with a mixture of fear and urgency.

“It was an extermination,” he went on. “They wanted to erase the royal family of Delphen.”

Sven lowered his gaze.

“But there must still be people waiting,” he replied. “People who lost their homes. I am the prince who—”

“No,” Eidan interrupted firmly. “To the rest of the world, the prince died that night.”

The words fell over Sven like ice water.

Eidan stepped closer.

“Here, you are safe,” he said. “Here, you can reign with me. And I can protect you.”

His hand, uncertain, reached for Sven’s.

“I don’t even know what became of our people…” Sven murmured, a knot tightening in his throat.

“We sheltered those we could,” Eidan replied. “And with you by my side, I will make this kingdom a home for them as well.”

He raised his hand and gently placed it against Sven’s cheek.

“Please,” he asked. “Promise me you will stay with me. And in return, I promise to do everything to make you happy.”

His eyes held a faith that hurt to look at.

“That way… we will never be alone again,” he added, almost defeated.

Sven did not know what to say.

But he couldn’t resist the urge to give him something. Even if only for a moment.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against Eidan’s. The king was startled at first, but then he closed his eyes and returned the kiss with a desperate tenderness. It was brief and soft—just enough to feel like a promise.

For that instant, the world narrowed to a single certainty: that, at least there, at least for that night, the love they shared was real.

Eidan gently brushed through his silver hair and let his hand drift to his neck, feeling the softness of his skin.

It was the first time they shared a touch so intimate—not fraternal, but as lovers.

The closeness ignited something warm and deep within Eidan, something he had long denied himself. For a moment, he wanted to draw nearer, to prolong the contact, to forget everything else.

He pulled away abruptly, as if the impulse had startled him awake.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his breath unsteady. “I have to stop.”

Sven felt both embarrassed and surprised at how long he had allowed the moment to linger—but it had not been unpleasant. Quite the opposite.

Eidan took a step back.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

And he left the chamber without waiting for a reply.

Silence settled once more.

“Tomorrow…” Sven repeated under his breath.

He returned to the balcony and lifted his gaze to the nearly full moon. The night air brushed against his face as a tear fell silently onto the cold stone.