The Redmond estate was still lit when the palace guards crossed its gates without announcement. There were no courtesies. No smiles. Only the weight of an order that asked for no permission.

King Eidan dismounted from his horse amid a formation of rigid guards. Inside the hall, the lords of the house bowed as he entered.

“Where is he?” he cut through the silence.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, we have no knowledge of—” Lady Amelia stepped forward, one hand pressed to her chest.

“Search the entire property,” Eidan interrupted, taking two steps forward.

The soldiers scattered in all directions.

“We only learned through the messengers that the wedding had not taken place, Your Majesty,” said Lord Edmund, his tone measured.

“This is the only home he has known for years,” Eidan replied, “and you are the only people he would trust with the reason for his escape—or else—” his fists clenched, “where is the other one?”

Lady Amelia lowered her gaze.

“Dyro has disappeared as well.”

“I knew it.” Eidan turned sharply, weighing the possibilities.

A guard returned.

“There is no sign of Lord Sven, Your Highness. His chambers remain untouched.”

“Search the nearby villages,” Eidan ordered. “I want information.”

“We will cover all lands, Your Highness,” the captain replied.

“Or the sky,” Lord Edmund added carefully.

Eidan turned on him at once.

“Sven still had his pegasus. He could have flown.”

“Are you mocking me?” Eidan asked, his voice laced with venom.

“You know that all we ever wanted was Sven’s happiness,” Amelia said. “He is like a son to us. We supported this union with all our hearts.”

“And now you tell me you knew nothing of his intention to flee with another man in the middle of the night?” Eidan’s gaze was sharp as a blade. “They both lived under your roof for years.”

“Dyro is loyal to Sven by nature. It runs in his blood,” Edmund replied, his eyes distant with memory. “If something troubled him, he would have confided only in him.”

Eidan clenched his teeth. He knew it was true.

A guard entered, dragging the pegasus, restless.

“I found the pegasus, Your Highness. It was hidden in the loft.”

“Then he can’t have gone far,” Eidan said, turning toward the exit. “I should have you imprisoned as traitors to the crown.”

“We will help you find him, Your Highness,” Amelia said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I do not trust you,” Eidan replied. “I trust no one.”

He mounted his horse. The guards formed behind him.

“What should we do with the pegasus, Your Highness?”

“We could cut its wings. Teach them a lesson.”

“Lock it in the palace,” he ordered instead. “It is not to leave in search of its master, nor to aid these liars.”

He spurred his horse and departed.

Lady Amelia let out a trembling breath, as though air had finally returned to her chest.

“Where could that boy have gone?”

“To the only place he knows,” Edmund replied.

Amelia turned her gaze toward the back of the hall, where a long case lay open—empty.

“Do you think he truly dared to return to…?”

“If we take a certain route,” Edmund murmured, “we may still catch him in time to stop him.”

The palace of Diodain received Eidan in silence, as if the walls themselves avoided looking at him. Night had fully fallen, and the courtyard torches burned with a harsh light.

“Seal the northern roads before dawn,” he ordered without dismounting. “I want guards at every crossing and scouts in the forests.”

“Shall we question the nearby villages, Your Highness?” a captain asked.

Eidan took a moment before answering. His eyes remained fixed on the darkness of the path Sven had taken.

“Question them,” he said at last. “And if they refuse to cooperate, they will learn that refusal is not an option.”

The silence that followed was thick.

“I want reports by dawn,” he concluded. “There will be no rest until we bring him back.”

“Your Highness, you must not leave the kingdom,” a councilor dared to say, stepping forward. “The situation is too unstable to risk the absence of the king.”

“I have no reason to entertain foolish opinions,” Eidan replied without looking at him. “I will return to impose order once and for all.”

He left the councilor mid-sentence and continued on his way. He only needed a few hours to prepare before setting out after him.

Alone at last, in his chambers, Eidan stood before the open window. The city slept beneath a blanket of distant lights.

He pulled the crumpled envelope from within his tunic.

He did not open it. He couldn’t.

He held it between his fingers as if it were a shard of glass that still cut.

“Coward…” he murmured, unsure who he was speaking to.

He closed his fist around the paper and tucked it away once more.

Tomorrow, he would bring him back.

One way or another.