The morning light spilled through the cracked shutters of a dingy tavern room. A mug teetered on the edge of the table, forgotten amidst the clutter of empty flagons, discarded garments, and the faint scent of smoke and ale lingering in the air.

Korrin groaned as the morning light found his face. The scrape of fabric and a soft, teasing laugh brought him fully awake. He opened his eyes to see a woman—a brunette with a sharp jawline and green eyes—perched on the edge of the bed, lacing up her bodice. The corners of her mouth curled in quiet amusement, though sleep still clung to her eyes. “Rough night, my Prince?” she asked, her voice lilting with the faint accent of the southern plains.

Korrin groaned, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Rough mornings seem to follow me like a curse,” he muttered, sitting up and reaching for his trousers.

Another woman lay tangled beneath the sheets, her face still buried in the pillow. Korrin pieced together what little he remembered. Drinking. Laughter. Then her.

He glanced back at her as she tightened her belt.

A brief, bitter smile played on his lips. “You remind me of someone.”

The woman glanced back. “Someone who left you in better shape than I did, I hope.”

Korrin laughed, shaking his head. He didn’t answer, instead pulling his tunic over his head and rising to his feet. He knew she was watching him, but refused to acknowledge it. He’d learned long ago that some memories were best left unspoken.

The knock at the door was sharp. Korrin paused, then recognised the familiar voice beyond it.

“Korrin, get your arse out here before I burn this hovel to the ground.” Ronan.

With a sigh, Korrin glanced back at the green-eyed woman, tossing her a silver coin from his belt. “For your trouble.”

She caught it with a smirk. “More like for my patience.”

Korrin opened the door to find his elder brother standing there, arms crossed and an exasperated expression on his face.

“You look worse than the whores you keep company with,” Ronan said.

“Charming as always,” Korrin replied, stepping into the hallway. The woman’s faint laughter followed him as the door swung shut.

The two walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the tavern fading behind them as they emerged into the fresh morning air. Ronan handed Korrin a skin of water, which he took gratefully, rinsing the taste of stale ale from his mouth.

“You didn’t have to come for me,” Korrin said eventually.

“You’d end up in the stocks if I didn’t.” Ronan glanced ahead before adding, “Someone has to watch your back.”

They walked side by side, their boots crunching over the dirt road as they moved away from the village. 

Korrin glanced across at his brother. “Why haven’t you taken a wife, brother? Or is there some poor lass waiting in one of these taverns we should know about?”

“War is my mistress.”

“That’s a lie.”

Ronan glanced at him, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps. But it’s a convenient one.”

Korrin let it drop, sensing his brother’s reluctance to dig deeper. They walked on in companionable silence until Korrin suddenly stopped.

“Do you still think of her?” he asked.

Ronan didn’t have to ask who. “Mother?”

Korrin nodded. 

A rare, genuine smile crossed Ronan’s face. “I remember how she used to sneak us bread rolls from the kitchens when Father wasn’t looking. Told us she’d steal the stars themselves if it would make us smile.”

Korrin chuckled. “And that one time she tried to braid my hair because she said I looked like a wild dog. I bit her hand for it.”

Ronan laughed, a deep, hearty sound that felt rare and almost out of place amidst the burdens they carried.

“She loved you more for that,” Ronan said.

“She loved us both,” Korrin replied.

As they reached the castle gates, the moment faded.

Ronan’s stride became brisk, purposeful, while Korrin lingered, his attention drifting to the horizon as if searching for something lost.

“Come on, Korrin,” Ronan called over his shoulder. “The day won’t wait for your melancholy.”

With a sigh, Korrin followed, though a faint smile lingered on his lips.

Far from where his thoughts lingered, another chamber lay quiet beneath the morning sun. Valtor stretched slowly, like a cat rousing from sleep, his tunic half-buttoned. Behind him, a red-haired maid lay sprawled on the pillows, her smile as bright as the dawn. She tugged at the sheets to cover herself but made no effort to hide her amusement.

“You should go,” she teased. 

“If the guards find you here, I’ll have to explain why the prince was too charming to resist.”

Valtor chuckled, slipping on his boots. “And I’m sure your explanation will be far better than mine.” He leaned over, stealing a kiss before grabbing an apple from a tray near the bed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone before anyone’s the wiser.”

“You’re already late,” she warned.

Valtor grinned and gave the sheet a playful tug as he passed. She gasped, clutching it back to herself, though the smile she shot him said she wasn’t truly offended.

“Worth it,” Valtor said, pulling his tunic straight before slipping out the door.

Valtor bit into the apple with relish, the crunch echoing faintly against the stone walls.

“Prince Valtor,” one of the guards called out, a burly man with a crooked grin. “You still owe me from last night.”

“Do I? Or perhaps your memory is as poor as your hand at cards.”

“You cheated me, Your highness.“

“Double the stakes next time,” Valtor replied, tossing the guard the remains of his apple. “Consider it a lesson in humility.”

The guard shook his head as Valtor moved on, his laughter fading into the hum of the waking castle. He paused only briefly when a maiden approached him, her arms crossed.

“You promised me you’d visit last night.”

Valtor placed a hand over his heart. “Ah, my lady, a cruel twist of fate kept me from your side. I was waylaid by the stars themselves, whispering tales of love too vast for words.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you were too radiant for mortal company, and I feared I might dim your light.”

The maiden rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Yet irresistible,” Valtor countered, stealing a kiss. As he turned to leave, she lifted her tunic slightly, revealing a flash of bare skin. “This is what you missed,” she teased.

Valtor bit his fist dramatically, winking. “A tragedy I’ll mourn for the rest of my days.”

He made his way to the kitchens, where the clatter of pots and pans mingled with the comforting scent of freshly baked bread. Behind the long wooden tables, Master Chef Odrik looked up from his work, a flour-dusted scowl creasing his weathered face.

“You’re late.”

“Early,” Valtor corrected, snatching a crust of bread from a cooling tray.

“If this is early, then the sun must be lazy today.”

“Fine, fine—perhaps a little late. But it’s worth it to see your cheerful face.”

Odrik wiped his hands on his apron. “Your father’s returned. Thought you’d be scrambling to greet him.”

Valtor laughed, tearing off a bite of bread. “Scrambling isn’t my style.” He flipped a coin toward the chef. “For last night. Same table tonight?”

The coin clinked on the table before Odrik caught it. “Royal coin always sounds different,” he said, tucking it into his apron.

Valtor winked as he left, stepping into the banquet hall where his brothers sat at the long table. Ronan had already finished most of his meal, while Korrin sat hunched over a bowl, eating as though he had not seen food in days.

“Good morning, brothers.”

Valtor dropped into the empty chair beside Korrin and reached for the bread.

Ronan looked across the table at him.

Valtor ignored him at first, tearing a piece from the loaf. When Ronan continued staring, he stopped.

“What?”

Ronan said nothing.

Valtor glanced down at himself, checking his tunic as though expecting to find something wrong with it. His eyes moved over the creases in the fabric before he finally understood.

“Oh. Yes. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes.”

Ronan shook his head. “Are you serious, Valtor?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Do I need to ask why?”

Valtor shrugged. “I mean, if you want me to lie to you.”

Korrin finally lifted his eyes from his bowl. “Please do. I’m in need of some entertainment with my breakfast.”

A grin spread across Valtor’s face.

“Well, there was this maid with rather large—”

He raised both hands in front of his chest.

“Enough,” Ronan cut in.

Valtor slowly lowered his hands.

Ronan turned his attention to Korrin. “I don’t know why you entertain him.”

Korrin looked back down at his bowl and carried on eating.

For a moment, the only sound between them was the scrape of Korrin’s spoon against the wood.

“I’ve been to see Father,” Ronan said.

That got their attention.

Valtor opened his mouth, ready with another remark, but stopped himself. Whatever he had been about to say, he decided against it.

Ronan leaned back in his chair. “He’s looking older. Worn down.” His eyes moved between his brothers. “We need to prepare ourselves for what comes next.”

Korrin glanced across the table at Valtor.

It was brief, but enough. They had heard this from Ronan before.

Valtor reached for another piece of bread.

“So, this maid had breasts that would make even a woman cry.”

Korrin nearly choked on his breakfast.

Ronan shook his head, scoffing to himself.

Valtor glanced at Korrin before looking back at his elder brother.

“Would it help if I gave her black hair?”

Ronan stared at him for a moment.

Then he pushed his chair back from the table.

“I’m needed in the war room. I’ll see you two later.”

He walked behind Valtor and, without breaking stride, smacked him across the back of the head.

“Love you too,” Valtor replied, rubbing the back of his head.

Ronan carried on towards the doors without looking back.

For a while, neither brother spoke.

Korrin finally broke the silence.

“Is it me, or is he getting more ambitious by the day?”

Valtor chewed slowly, his eyes still on the doors through which Ronan had disappeared.

“The only person who could answer that is the Queen.”

Korrin frowned. “What does she have to do with it?”

Valtor looked at him.

Korrin stared back, clearly waiting for an answer.

Then something seemed to occur to him.

“Wait.” He lowered his spoon. “Are you talking about her breasts?”

Valtor almost choked.

“No. Gods, Korrin. I meant—”

There was no saving it now.

“Forget it, Korrin. Just forget it.”

Korrin stared at his brother in disgust.

“You sick little man.”

Valtor opened his mouth to explain himself, but thought better of it. He looked down at his plate instead, his face beginning to redden.

Korrin watched him for another moment before returning to his breakfast.