If soone had told him he made the wrong decision, he would have killed them on the spot. If soone had scolded him, he would have glared at them and stated otherwise. If anyone dared to speak ill of his oga, he would have made sure to set an example so no one else would ever do so again.
However, what was Rihaan supposed to do when no one spoke to him upon his return to Dankshin?
It was as if an unspoken rule had spread across the kingdom. The only tis anyone addressed him were when it concerned his taste in food or his choice of clothing. He was no longer summoned to court etings—not even once.
"Are they planning sothing new?" Rihaan muttered, exhaling sharply.
"What did you say?" the man seated on his lap asked, pressing a gentle peck against the alpha’s cheek.
Rihaan smiled, running his hand through Arav’s hair—smooth, silky, and dark like the winter solstice. Yet the weather outside was warm. Unlike Soren’s land. Cold. Chilling.
Just like its people.
Or perhaps... just like the Imperial Crown Prince himself.
Because Imperial General Zayden wasn’t as cold as Imperial Crown Prince Soren.
Rihaan’s opinion of Soren had changed recently. They had begun exchanging letters—the first one coming from Soren himself. It contained cut-out pieces of newspapers, carefully glued together.
All of them spoke of their cancelled engagent, each article harshly condemning Rihaan for his sudden refusal.
[But I know the truth. You told you did not wish to proceed with this alliance. I should have paid more attention to your opinion. I believed you would eventually give in—everyone does when it cos to politics. But... you didn’t. I admire you for that.
I hope things get better for you. Surely, your father won’t let this slide easily, given his personality.
Best wishes.]
The letter wasn’t signed.
Did he forget?
Rihaan had wondered that after finishing it, before shaking his head.
No. Impossible.
Soren wasn’t the kind of man who made mistakes.
"Who are you thinking about while you’re with ?" Arav asked, lifting Rihaan’s chin and forcing him to et his gaze—hazel eyes locking with soft pink ones.
"Well... Crown Prince Soren—"
"What?!" Arav frowned, cheeks puffing up instantly, lips forming a small pout. "Do you like him now?"
Rihaan chuckled, shaking his head.
"I left everything for you," he said softly, brushing his hands over the oga’s cheeks before letting them rest on his thin shoulders.
"But you still think of him..."
"Alright. I apologize," Rihaan raised his hands in surrender, yielding to his lover’s fury even though he knew it wasn’t justified. "You may punish however you wish."
"Really?" Arav’s eyes lit up—just for a mont, quick and sharp before softening again.
"Yes. What do you want?"
"Hm," Arav humd, pretending to think. His gaze drifted away, unfocused, as if searching for sothing just out of reach. Then, as though the thought had struck him naturally, he smiled.
"I want the diamond necklace the Queen wore when you returned to the palace."
Rihaan grimaced.
"You—what?" His gaze narrowed on the oga.
"Why are you so surprised?" Arav replied lightly. "You said you’d do anything I wanted." He stepped closer, fingers brushing Rihaan’s sleeve. "I want that necklace. Please."
"I... I can’t—"
Arav’s expression faltered instantly. His shoulders slumped, lashes lowering as tears welled up.
"Is it because you think I’m just a commoner?" he whispered. "That I don’t deserve sothing like that?"
The words were soft. Too soft. Carefully chosen.
He wiped his tears quickly, as if embarrassed by them, and slid off Rihaan’s lap. His feet t the soft gray carpet as he slipped into his slippers.
"I-I’ll just leave," he said, voice trembling—but his steps were slow, hesitant, as though waiting.
Rihaan sprang forward, arms wrapping tightly around Arav’s waist.
"Don’t go," he pleaded.
For a heartbeat, Arav didn’t answer.
Then, a faint smile curved his lips—hidden against Rihaan’s shoulder.
"Then," he murmured, "will you give it to ?"
Rihaan exhaled shakily.
"I’ll speak to Mother about it."
Arav relaxed in his arms at once, tension lting away far too easily, as though the weight he carried had never truly been there.
***
For so reason, the letters didn’t stop coming—nor did Rihaan stop writing to Soren.
It had beco a habit. The first thing he did before going to bed was write a letter about his uneventful day and send it off to Soren.
Thanks to the ssenger pigeon trained by the army to deliver letters as quickly as possible, the ssages arrived with remarkable speed.
It was sothing Rihaan had begun to look forward to. Soren always had sothing interesting to write about.
At one point, he even wrote about a perfu bottle one of his servants had accidentally broken. The Empress had been present and began scolding the poor girl relentlessly—until Soren spoke up.
Rihaan didn’t doubt his words for a second. He knew Soren too well. He was kind, even if he appeared cold on the outside. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have confronted the Emperor about breaking off the engagent on the very sa day, regardless of his father’s fury.
It wasn’t as though Soren could have done more than that. Rihaan held no grudges against him. If anything, it felt as though they had grown closer after everything that had happened.
When he finished writing the letter, Rihaan tied it to the bird’s leg with a thin red ribbon.
The pigeon took flight, carrying his ssage once more into the night.
However, sleep didn’t co easily, for reasons Rihaan couldn’t quite place. Restless, he decided to pace through the hallways, hoping the movent would tire him enough to finally rest.
As he crossed a rather narrow corridor, voices reached his ears—low, hushed, yet unmistakably alert. He slowed his steps without thinking.
"...Do you think he’s still the Crown Prince?" one servant whispered.
"I don’t know," another replied. "The King hasn’t looked at him the sa since the engagent was cancelled. He’s furious."
Rihaan stopped completely, his breath catching in his throat.
"I heard His Majesty hasn’t spoken to him at all," a third voice added. "Not even once."
"Well, can you bla him?" the first servant murmured. "Rejecting an alliance like that... No one does that without consequences."
Rihaan clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. So this was how they saw him now—his position questioned, his worth asured by a marriage he had refused.
Without making a sound, he turned away from the corridor, his footsteps quieter than before. The palace suddenly felt colder, its endless halls less like a ho and more like a maze he couldn’t escape.
And for once, he missed Ravhara’s snow-draped streets. The loud marketplaces and...
The dark-brown-haired man shook his head.
I must have lost my mind because of Father’s behaviour. Missing him?... No way.
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