Xenophon didn’t speak for a while after Ariston finished. He stood there with his thoughts moving in circles, already turning the story over in his head, fitting it beside the others he had read and remembered. Part of him wanted to write it down, to keep it somewhere safe before time softened the edges. He knew he couldn’t. Not openly, not in a way that could be traced back. Some stories weren’t meant to be carried in public. They stayed where they were told, passed carefully, or not at all. He glanced at Yiannis, then looked away, understanding without saying it that this one belonged to him now.

Yiannis didn’t linger. Whatever doubt had been pulling at him before felt different now. Not gone, but settled into something clearer, something he could move with instead of against. By the time he reached home, he already knew what he was going to ask.

His parents were inside, speaking in low voices that stopped the moment he entered. They looked at him in that way they had, as if they had been expecting this version of him to walk through the door.

“I want to go to the mountains,” Yiannis said.

He didn’t explain which ones. He didn’t need to.

His father, Stavros, leaned back slightly, studying him with a look that held more recognition than surprise. His mother said nothing at first, but there was a small shift in her expression, something between resignation and amusement.

“This about the boy,” Stavros said.

Yiannis didn’t answer right away. He didn’t deny it either.

Stavros let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh. “Thought so.”

He had seen it earlier than anyone else. The moment Yiannis had pulled Charles from the water, soaked and half conscious, there had been something in the way he held him. Not just urgency, not just instinct. Something else, something familiar enough that Stavros didn’t need it explained. He had been the same once, drawn in without sense, without caution.

“Always had an eye for it,” Stavros muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Yiannis frowned slightly. “For what.”

“Nothing,” his father replied, though the hint of a smile stayed.

His mother finally spoke then, her voice softer but no less certain. “You’re sure about this.”

It wasn’t a question meant to stop him. It was a question meant to see if he would waver.

“I am,” Yiannis said.

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded once.

There was no long discussion after that. No weighing of advantages, no careful talk of status or consequence. Those things had lost their place in the family long before Yiannis was born. After Stavros’s grandfather died young, it had been his grandmother who set the rule that stayed. Love first. Everything else after, if it mattered at all.

Stavros remembered it clearly. The way she had spoken, the way she had made them promise. No more decisions built on gain or reputation. No more tying lives together for anything other than choice.

He looked at his son now and saw that same line being followed, whether Yiannis knew it or not.

“A Beta doesn’t change anything,” Stavros said after a moment, as if closing the last door that might have been left open.

Yiannis didn’t react to the word this time. It didn’t carry the same weight it had before.

His mother’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile but close enough. “We’ll make the arrangements,” she said. “You can leave when you’re ready.”

Yiannis nodded, the decision settling into place without resistance.

As he turned to leave, Stavros watched him go with that same understanding. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could already hear it. Not real, not yet, but clear enough. The voices of family, the sound of celebration, something building toward a future that had already chosen its direction.

He didn’t say it out loud.

He didn’t need to.

Charles found himself with nothing to do for the first time in days, and it sat badly with him. Willahelm had taken over part of the kitchen without being asked, moving like he belonged there, and Yiannis had disappeared somewhere without explanation. The house had its own rhythm, and for once, Charles wasn’t part of it.

He stepped outside and followed the path toward the garden that faced the sea. The air carried salt and something warmer underneath. It should have felt different, new enough to hold his attention, but it didn’t. He walked without purpose, hands at his sides, gaze drifting over details that didn’t stay.

A rustle broke the silence.

He turned just as a head popped out from behind a cluster of bushes.

It was a girl, small and bright-eyed, watching him without hesitation. Before he could say anything, another head appeared beside hers. A boy, younger, his features softer in a way that made him look almost too delicate for his age.

They didn’t seem afraid of him.

The girl stepped out first. “I’m Eleni,” she said, as if that settled everything. She pointed back at the boy. “That’s Kallias.”

Kallias didn’t speak. He stayed half-hidden, looking at Charles and then away again.

Charles inclined his head slightly. “Karlaz,” he said. The name came easily now.

Eleni didn’t react to it. Instead, she turned back to Kallias, grabbed him without warning, and pulled him close. “He’s mine,” she declared, wrapping her arms around him with a certainty that didn’t leave room for argument. “He’s going to be my mate.”

Before Kallias could respond, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

He froze for a second, then his face turned red all at once. He pushed away from her, eyes wide and bright, and ran without looking back.

“Wait,” Eleni called, though she didn’t move to follow him. She just watched him go, then crossed her arms like she had done something completely reasonable.

Charles watched the exchange without comment.

His attention shifted to where Kallias had run. Not far from the garden, there was a shaded resting area. A woman sat there, her posture relaxed but attentive, and beside her was Melia.

Kallias went straight to her.

Charles approached at a measured pace. When he was close enough, he gave a small bow, enough to acknowledge their presence without overstepping. Melia noticed him immediately and lifted her hand in a casual gesture.

“Come here,” she said.

He did.

Up close, the woman beside her studied him with open curiosity. There was no hesitation in it, just interest sharpened by recognition.

“I’m Karlaz..,” Charles said, keeping his tone even. “From the southeastern lands.”

The woman’s expression shifted slightly, something like surprise passing through before it settled into something more certain.

“I’ve heard of you,” she said. “Or rather, of what you did.”

Charles said nothing.

“The voyage,” she continued. ““The goods you brought across the sea arrived intact—not a single piece lost, or so people say.” She glanced at Melia, then back at him. “That’s not something that goes unnoticed.”

Melia smiled faintly, as if the conversation amused her more than it impressed her.

“They’re talking about it everywhere,” the woman added. “Your family’s name has been coming up more often. Even the court has taken interest. I heard your parents were invited to present what you brought.”

Charles listened, the words passing through him without resistance.

“That so,” he said.

It wasn’t false interest. It just wasn’t anything more than acknowledgment.

Kallias stayed close to his mother, still flushed, his earlier embarrassment not yet gone. He peeked at Charles once, then looked away again, as if unsure where to place him in all of this.

Melia watched the three of them, her gaze moving between Charles and the children, then settling for a moment longer than necessary.

“You’re settling in,” she said.

It wasn’t a question.

Charles met her eyes. “I am.”

She nodded once, as if that was enough.

The sea moved quietly in the distance, the garden holding its calm, and for a moment, nothing demanded more than what was already there.

Yiannis found them in the garden without meaning to. He had come back expecting silence, maybe to look for Charles and not find him right away, but instead he saw him already settled beside Melia and Aunt Hestia, speaking as if he had always belonged there. Something about that sight caught him off guard. It was small, almost nothing, but it settled warm in his chest before he could push it aside.

He slowed his steps, staying just far enough to listen without interrupting.

Hestia leaned forward slightly, her expression bright with curiosity that never really softened with age. “So tell me,” she said, studying Charles like she was trying to place him into a story she already half knew, “you’re twenty, aren’t you. Why aren’t you married yet.”

The question landed easily, the kind people asked without thinking too much about it.

Yiannis stiffened where he stood.

Charles didn’t react in any visible way. He answered after a moment, his tone even. “I was focused on work mostly traveling, planning routes, and testing them out..”

“Work,” Hestia repeated, like she wasn’t entirely convinced that was reason enough.

“Willahelm said the same,” Charles added, as if passing the explanation along made it simpler. “There wasn’t much time for anything else.”

Melia watched him as he spoke, her gaze steady in a way that suggested she was listening for more than just the words. “And when you remember,” she said, “will you go back to that.”

Charles paused.

It wasn’t long, but it was enough to notice.

“I might,” he said. “Not immediately.”

That was true, in a way. He had thought about leaving, about retracing something he couldn’t fully see yet. But this place, this moment, it felt like a fixed point. Something he had to understand before he moved anywhere else.

“I need more time,” he added. “To recover. And I…” He glanced briefly toward the sea, then back. “I like it here.”

Melia’s lips curved slightly, as if she had expected that answer.

“I was thinking,” Charles continued, “of finding a place nearby. Staying close, but not imposing.”

Yiannis stepped forward before he could stop himself. “No.”

The word came out sharper than he intended.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him at once.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then continued, more controlled this time. “You don’t need to do that. Stay here. It’s not like we’re asking you to leave.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Melia laughed.

It came out sudden and full, the kind of laugh she didn’t bother holding back. It echoed just enough to carry inside, drawing attention from beyond the room. A moment later, Stavros appeared from his study, pausing at the entrance with a look that asked what he had walked into.

Yiannis felt the heat rise to his face before he could hide it. He avoided his mother’s eyes, which only made it worse.

Hestia watched the exchange with amusement, her smile settling into something knowing as she looked between them. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. It was all there, plain enough for anyone who cared to see it.

Charles, for his part, looked between them without quite understanding where the shift had come from. The reaction didn’t match the words in any way he could follow. He stayed still, expression composed, though there was a faint pause in it, like he had missed something important.

Stavros took it in from where he stood, then shook his head once, more out of recognition than disapproval.

“Right,” he said under his breath, turning back the way he came.

Yiannis stood there a moment longer, still warm, still caught in something he hadn’t meant to show. He glanced at Charles, then away again, as if that might settle it.

It didn’t.

And Melia’s laughter, even as it softened, didn’t help at all.