Wandering the corridors aimlessly, Qariel couldn’t shake the feeling of loss shadowing him. The palace’s pink-beige architecture all began to blur into one, rooms and paths he used to know so well, and yet many he now hadn’t set eyes upon in years, let alone stepped foot in. Eth’arvel had once been like a playground to him, withholding almost no secrets from his endless curiosity. When had it become as a stranger?
He couldn’t delay much longer; the window for travelling the Frozen Wastes was tight and unforgiving, and he had no intention of spending the winter stranded in such inhospitable terrain. He worried he wouldn’t get a chance to speak with his youngest son before he left, though, and hated the thought of parting on such unpleasant terms. It was clear Tayuin was avoiding him, somehow managing to outmanoeuvre even his insights into the palace. Impressive, if frustrating.
Qariel had to admit, he hadn’t any idea where to even begin looking. He was somewhat sure Tayuin wasn’t leaving the grounds, if only because he’d be unlikely to risk it unless he had no doubts Qariel wouldn’t sell him out. The thought stung a little, but he couldn’t blame him for not trusting him completely.
Had he still maintained control over the Sentinels, this would never have become an issue. He supposed he could try asking those posted at Tayuin’s quarters if they knew anything, but he suspected the youngest prince already had those closest to him willing to tell small lies on his behalf, at least, if not wholly on his side. It didn’t seem fair to put them in a position to test their loyalty so.
He hadn’t dared tell Kaelys, about their arguments in the woods or his inability to track the young prince easily. If she knew how efficiently Tayuin was able to bypass her ‘safekeeping’ measures, it would likely only lead to her putting further barriers to his freedom in place. Qariel didn’t want that for him, and he certainly didn’t want to be the cause of it.
The largely ignored guest suites had always seemed unlikely to bear fruit, but he’d look anywhere at this point. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign of his son in the maze of unused rooms, mostly just clutter and undisturbed dust, and he trudged reluctantly back towards the stairs. Beginning to accept the futility of his unorganised searching, he was surprised to see a flash of pale blue slip around the corner ahead and instinctively gave chase.
“Wait!”
He charged round, only to nearly collide with a different winter prince. Afternoon light streaming through the corridor’s many windows bathed pale features in a warm glow, highlighting the ice-blue strands of hair that framed an elegant face. As Prince Kyron turned to the commotion, thin layers of delicate blue fabric gathered about his slight figure. With a chuckle, he drew them out of harm’s way as Qariel stopped just short of barreling into him. He smiled with obvious affection as he watched Qariel right himself.
“I thought you had grown out of sprinting through these halls, old friend.”
“Apparently not,” Qariel mumbled. Sheepishly shifting pieces of his armour back into position, he felt much like the child he’d once been, tripping up before a beautiful young boy much wiser than his years. “I was just… uh, never mind.” Clearing his throat, he quickly changed the subject. “I didn’t get a chance to speak with you at lunch—you know what Fel’shaan’s like. But I did notice you didn’t attend my welcome home trap—sorry, soiree.”
His brother-in-law laughed, entirely unshaken by the unexpected encounter. “Ah yes, well. I assumed you wanted to be there about as much as I, so I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Tell me about it,” Qariel grunted. “And Kel’shael?”
“Not invited. Admittedly, that wouldn’t have prevented him had I truly wished to come. You know how he is.”
“Not… invited? What? Why?”
The prince tilted his head, brow furrowing subtly. “Kaelys… didn’t tell you?”
“Let’s assume not, shall we?” Qariel said a little testily.
Kyron absently fiddled with one of the flawless braids of hair resting over his shoulder. “They got into an argument not too long ago. And they’re both just so…”
“Stubborn?”
“Mm, indeed. Tshyan won’t accept anything less than a formal apology, and Kaelys… well, Kae is doing what she’s presently doing with most problems, I suppose.”
“And what would that be?” Qariel asked stiffly.
“Pretending they do not exist.”
He swiftly deflated; he couldn’t argue with that.
“Or, at the very least, that she has them entirely under control.” Kyron shook his head. “I’ve tried not to intervene, but…”
Nodding uncomfortably, Qariel could only imagine how awkward it must be for the prince, caught between his twin and his husband. Then again, he didn’t have to imagine too hard, enduring his own balancing acts. “What was the argument over?”
Kyron didn’t answer immediately, twisting the braid through his fingers. “Your son,” he said eventually in a level tone.
Qariel scowled. “Tay?”
“No.” He glanced up, pale grey-blue eyes narrowed warily. “Ailos.”
“Ailos? I don’t… Why?”
Another long pause. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”
“Ky, please?”
Reluctantly, the prince sighed. “…The argument started with Ailos. Well, an argument wasn’t Tshyan’s intention, but… your son took offence, either way.”
“At what?”
Though Kyron was usually the hardest to read of the royal winter twins, the pursing of his lips and his cynical glance were not quite subtle enough for Qariel to miss, spoiling his ordinarily serene countenance. Too much time alone with the ever-expressive Kel’shael, most likely. Or perhaps the long, well-deserved respite from court and the necessity of masking every little thought.
“Having his fun is one thing, Qariel,” the prince said carefully. “But Ailos is starting to gain something of a reputation for himself. The kind one doesn’t easily come back from.”
Qariel ground his teeth, knowing precisely what he alluded to. Despite his long periods away, it wasn’t difficult to recognise his son’s vice was veering into the excessive. Not a social event went by without him sauntering off, usually with someone different each time; it was a wonder he hadn’t yet exhausted the well of available ‘suitors’.
“Nothing substantial said aloud, yet; who wants to admit their child was naive enough to believe such an encounter might lead to something more? Or worse, invite rumours of such impropriety upon their own. But there are already whispers circulating, warnings to stay clear. If he doesn’t reign it in, or at least employ discretion, his… ‘fun’ runs out too. Unless he intends for paying for said entertainment to be his only option.”
“Something tells me that wouldn’t necessarily bother him,” Qariel scoffed.
“Perhaps not now, while he’s still young. When he’s our age?” Kyron let the thought hang for a moment, then shrugged. “Tshyan only thought it worth cautioning him to what he’d heard, but…”
Qariel pinched his eyes closed. “What did Ailos do?” he groaned.
“Tshyan has a niece he’s close with. Alaria Kel’shael. She’s betrothed. Was… betrothed.” Kyron sighed. “Ailos seduced her fiancé; when she found out—as Ailos intended, of course—she called off the engagement. Poor girl wouldn’t tell anyone why; despite everything, she didn’t want to place the boy in trouble.”
“But she told Tshyan eventually, I take it? Aaaaaand he went straight to Kae.”
“Not his wisest move, I’ll admit. Had I known, I would have counselled restraint, but…”
Qariel shook his head. “Kel’shael was never much good at letting an insult pass unanswered.”
“No. An apology alone is unlikely to amend the damage wrought, either way. Ailos may have acted the spiteful child, but the fiancé was the one with the commitment to fulfil. Alaria is not inclined to accept him back, and I can’t say I blame her.”
“Understandable.”
“Though without a reason given, the boy’s family aren’t accepting her decision quietly. It’s…”
“A mess, I imagine.”
Kyron sighed. “Indeed.”
“…You think Tshyan will tell them?”
“If Ailos or Kae doesn’t do something… I don’t know. I’m not sure I could stop him if he does, Qari.” His friend looked to him questioningly, perhaps even a little defensively. “Or if I even should.”
Qariel shifted uncomfortably. “I would offer to help, but… Ailos certainly won’t listen to me.”
“I know, friend. Truth be told, I’m not even sure he’d listen to Kaelys, either. Not unless she does something drastic. Which, if he pushes her to breaking point, as he seems intent on doing, she may just. But… perhaps Kae would listen to you?”
Qariel laughed, though he wondered if it rang as bitter to his friend’s ear as it did his own. “Whatever gave you such an idea?”
“A long shot, I know,” Kyron said with a brief smile, then sighed. “And I said I wouldn’t get involved. Suppose they’ll just have to resolve it between themselves.”
“And I’m sure that will happen.”
“Yes, well. Anyway.” Like a break in the storm clouds, Kyron’s placid smile that Qariel was accustomed to returned. “You weren’t expecting to find me, and we’re a long ways from the kitchens. So, then, who was your intended quarry this time, Captain?”
Flustered, Qariel laughed and shook his head. Captain of the Sentinels and Palace Guard. It had been years since he’d been addressed by such a title, though not quite so many since he’d last held it. Of all the ones he’d worn in his life, it was the one that had fitted him most like a second skin. Certainly far more so than those he held now. “It’s not my place to be chasing down ne’re-do-wells, anymore, Your Highness,” he said with a thin smile, dipping his head in a faux bow.
“Neither the sentry nor the rogue anymore? I’m not so sure you ever stopped being either, Your Majesty.” The prince laughed at the King’s grimace. “Pilfering treats from the kitchen may have come to an end with your elevation to Sentinel, but it certainly never stopped you from slinking about. I rather much doubt being King stopped you thinking like a guard, either.”
“Yet my charge eludes me at every step,” Qariel muttered half to himself.
“Tayuin has had all the time to learn to do so.”
Qariel’s eyes snapped to his friend’s face, and though calm as ever, Kyron’s smile had faded.
“Exploring these halls as a child was a game to you, Qariel, a puzzle you later turned to advantage for your work. It’s what made you the best at what you did. For Tayuin, it’s his life. His desperation will surpass your childhood curiosity, always.” With a pause, those pale eyes slipped to the tall window beside them, over the immaculately kept gardens, and just beyond their walls to the few visible rooftops of the district below. He continued in a low voice. “This palace must seem unfathomable to those outside it, an unknowable labyrinth of passageways and extravagantly oversized chambers. A little less so to those that walk its halls daily, even less to those that call it home. But how trivially small it must feel as one’s entire world.”
“I told you, she won’t listen to me,” Qariel protested, feeling a need to absolve himself despite the absence of charges held against him.
“I know.”
“Kyron—”
“I know, Qariel.” Kyron looked back to him with a weak smile. “Please, do not mistake my concerns for blame. Certainly not without shouldering the same myself.”
Qariel’s gaze still fell, embracing the guilt, even without any indication of disappointment from his friend. He massaged his temple with a weary sigh and searched Kyron’s face again.
“Have you seen him today? Anywhere at all?”
Kyron regarded him for a long moment. “Not that I know I’d tell you even if I had, but… no. I haven’t.”
“Please, Ky? He’s my son.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t tell Kaelys either,” Kyron said with a wry chuckle.
“It doesn’t.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does. If Tayuin doesn’t wish to speak with you, I imagine he has his reasons. So much is already out of his control; to take even a small piece from him would trouble me. I am, however, speaking the truth this time; I have not seen him.”
“I have to find him,” Qariel grumbled to himself.
“Whatever the cause, perhaps you should give yourselves both time to regain composure. You realise you might make things worse than if you left him be?”
“I… I’m willing to risk that. I leave for the Wastes tonight, before dawn. If we don’t talk before I go…”
“…You worry he won’t speak with you ever again?”
“No. I worry he’ll act as if it never happened. Bury it alongside everything else.”
“Not a unique means of coping. Indeed, not amongst this family.”
“No…”
Qariel let the moment stretch on, watching as conflict flashed across Kyron’s fair features, until he finally let out a great sigh signifying his reluctance. “Tayuin… thinks a lot like you.”
“I’ve been traipsing around thinking like myself plenty, thank you. It hasn’t done me much good.”
“I said he thinks like you, not is you. You are searching for someone hiding, thinking like a guard. All he has to do is think the same, then stay one step ahead.”
Qariel scowled. “And that helps me how?”
“…When you were captain, if you wished to keep track of, say, me or one of my siblings, without us knowing, what would you have done?”
“Have one of my men to keep tabs on them, I suppose,” Qariel answered with a shrug. “Those best at staying out of sight.”
“And who would that be?”
“I don’t know the men anymore, Ky; they aren’t mine. I couldn’t tell you if a single one of them should even hold the positions they do, let alone which to trust—”
“Not now, then.”
Qariel rubbed his head irritably, unsure where this exercise was meant to lead him. “…Depends on which of you it was, I guess. Kel’shael if it were Ilyos, myself if it were you or Kae—I don’t see how this helps, Kyron,” he said hotly. “I told you, I think like myself just fine. If I wanted him followed, I would have already done so.”
His friend sighed, half in amusement and half in exasperation. “Who said anything about following him? You’re saying the best tail is the one that knows their charge best, yes?”
“I—”
“All Tayuin has to do is stay a step ahead. Or…”
Qariel blinked slowly as he recognised Kyron’s meaning. “A few steps behind.” Without further hesitation, he set off running in the direction he had come. “Thanks, Ky,” he called over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the smile that evaporated into uncertainty.
“Shit.”
Tayuin knew he’d finally failed as the racing footsteps closed in. He turned anyway, weighing his options. His father was between him and the nearest staircase. The way they’d come was filled with winding passageways and dead-end rooms long before it reached another, and he knew he couldn’t outrun his father for long, if at all. The only rooms off this passageway were more empty guestrooms, but… He wrenched open a door just as Qariel turned the corner and spotted him, and he swiftly crossed the dusty threshold.
“Tayuin!”
His father wasn’t far behind, his footsteps stalling as he caught up. Tayuin stared out the small balcony, listening to his father’s cautious approach.
“You really wish to avoid me so much?” Qariel asked quietly.
Tayuin turned with a bright smile, his eyes flicking over his father’s official golden armour. “A formal lunch?”
As Qariel briefly followed his eye line, Tayuin took the opportunity to step back a little further. “With the General, to discuss my trip. As I’m sure you know,” he responded, shaking his head. “Tay, I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I was insensitive, I’m sorry I’m leaving again, and I’m sorry I made promises I didn’t know if I could keep. I’m… I’m trying my best.”
“All right.”
“…Just all right?” Qariel frowned. “Tay, don’t.”
“Hm?” Tayuin tilted his head in faux befuddlement, like a small, confused animal.
“Perhaps that may have worked… had you not spoken to that Sentinel the very same before my eyes. Don’t.”
Hesitating for just a second, Tayuin quickly abandoned the facade. His smile vanished, and his gaze hardened. Guiltily, he took brief satisfaction in seeing his father taken aback by such a rapid shift. “Fine. And?”
“…If you don’t accept my apologies, just say so. Don’t shut me out behind a mask.”
“Fine. I accept. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Not if it’s not true.”
Tayuin shrugged. “It is true. I accept that you’re sincere. It just changes nothing. You’re still leaving. I’m still caged here. If you could have just believed a smile, perhaps you could have left feeling better. Now neither of us does.”
“And not speaking at all? You think I’d have been happier then?”
“Now, no. In three, four months, when you return… What is it they say? ‘Time heals’.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“But I think you do.” The young prince flashed a short, saccharine smile just long enough to make his point. “I’m sure I’d be more convincing by then.”
Qariel took a cautious step forward onto the balcony. “Tay—”
“What do you want from me?” Tayuin threw his arms up and started pacing, inching further out with each lap. “You want me to tell you I’ll be fine while you’re away? Well, I will be. I’m safe, right? Nothing can hurt me here.” He halted his steps to gauge his father’s response. The stoic expression he carried around like a disguise was altogether absent, replaced by a miserable frustration. And just below that surface, embers peering through the cracks. Good.
“That is Mother’s aim, is it not? Can’t bear the thought of losing me, can’t bring herself to look at me. I’m not even sure she can love me. But if she locks me in, locks me away… maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t have to do any. A snowflake pressed in glass.”
There it was—a flash of true aggravation conflicting with Qariel’s concern, a fire pressing against the cool veneer. Then Tayuin’s theory was right; no matter how much his father cared for him, it would always come second. In some ways, that almost made everything easier—so long as he could keep thinking objectively. Emotion could come later, when he was away from any eyes to see it hurt.
“Tayuin, that’s not true. Your mother cares, she’s just—”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure she cares, in her own detached way,” Tayuin flicked a hand dismissively. “Just as I’m sure she really cares that you don’t wish to spend the majority of your time negotiating with strangers in faraway lands rather than with your family. And yet. You’re still leaving, are you not? Nothing. Changes.”
Patience now wearing visibly thin, the muscle in Qariel’s jaw popped as he exhaled sharply, his next words forced through gritted teeth. “Enough, Tayuin. I’ve explained—”
“There’s no one else. Of course.” It wasn’t much of a challenge to make his laugh sound resentful, and he turned his back to stare out over the balustrade. Behind him, his wings quivered apprehensively. Without lowering his face, he glanced down; just as he assumed, too many patrols in the gardens below at this time of day.
“Taking out your anger for me leaving—”
“I told you, I’m not angry. I didn’t understand, but now I do,” Tayuin stated levelly, even as adrenaline flooded his muscles. “I accepted your apologies; is that not enough? You can leave guilt free, no?”
“…I…”
“It’s fine. Just go.” Stars and skies, I really hope that window is open. “Besides, it seems it’s all Mother’s decided you’re good for now, too.”
“Tayuin!”
He felt the heat of anger upon his back, the kind summer fae expressed best, but he’d already leapt, wings ready, over the balustrade and down into the blessedly open window two floors below. Landing on the unyielding floor with a roll, he broke into a run without much thought to direction besides away from the staircase to the floor above.
Eladrin wings were fragile things, beautifully iridescent and glass-like, not unlike those of a cicada. Strong enough for the fae’s own weight for a while and not much more. His father’s ceremonial armour was heavy, far too heavy for his wings to carry him, and his outburst and subsequent remorse would buy Tayuin a few extra corridors of distance between them. Perhaps still not enough, but it gave him a head start.
And it would be lying to say it didn’t feel a little good to make someone else feel the same helplessness. Like if someone else could feel a fraction of his pain, however small, it almost made a part of it not his anymore.
Qariel stared in mortified horror. With a quick glance around the old room to see no scorch marks or other signs of damage, he at least felt relieved to know he hadn’t lost complete control of his magic alongside his temper. After a few moments to breathe and realign himself, he raced forward to where Tayuin had vanished and peered over. The guards in the garden below looked none the wiser, so he couldn’t have flown past or landed there. He leant further to see the open window, and quickly set off into the palace.
When had he last lost his temper so? Years, certainly. He’d long ago mastered maintaining a level head even when purposely pushed to the edge, but Tayuin had clearly recognised the most effective weak spot to nettle.
The room was familiar to him now. He’d caught the adolescent twins hauling a small young Tay onto a balcony of one just like it, ready to throw him off. ‘Helping test his wings’. He’d lost his temper then, too. Scared the pair of them, and in their fear, they’d dropped their victim. Tayuin had managed to catch the ledge just in time, though needed help pulling himself up. The twins had tearfully claimed they’d only been teasing, wouldn’t have really gone through with it. He’d always wondered if they would have, and whether Tayuin ever remembered that event. Perhaps he had an answer to the latter now.
Cursing himself under his breath as he ran, he wasn’t sure if he was angrier at falling for such obvious provocations, or that such things were easy to provoke him with in the first place. A ploy or not, there was no way Tayuin hadn’t taken his reactions to heart.
Kyron was right; he’d made everything worse.
Leaning his back to a wall, Tayuin stopped to catch his breath and orient himself momentarily. Those who didn’t know better may think it easy to hide in the palace, but truthfully, most paths circled back on themselves, and every turn brought the chance of more encounters with guards—something far less beneficial to the pursued than the pursuer, in this case. The only realistic way forward was into the west wing, a place he avoided whenever possible.
He took a breath to steel himself and plunged ahead, though slowed to a gentle walk as he approached the wing’s entryway. He nodded warmly to the palace guards standing in its archway, only returning to a brisk stride once he was out of their sight. Running was no longer an option; the west wing ultimately led to the apartments of the Crown Prince, and so was one of the more heavily guarded parts of the palace. He’d been lucky not to pass a single Sentinel so far, something that would be increasingly unlikely should he stray too close.
A junction was ahead, the left leading to the royal library and, eventually, the route towards Ethryon’s rooms, whilst the right looped back towards the grand foyer. The left more guarded, the right more open. Still, if he were going to get caught, he’d much rather muster up the semblance of an apology than face his eldest brother. He took the right corner speedily—
And walked right into the path of Ailos. He froze. It was over. Too late to turn back. The corridor was too narrow for him to slip past unscathed, the ceiling too low to fly over without being snatched down. He was truly trapped. His brother stopped before him, eyebrow cocked. “Going somewhere?
“M-move,” Tayuin managed. The shake to his voice only amused Ailos further, and he folded his arms. Tayuin could hear the sound of pursuit in his mind’s ear, alongside the violent beating of his heart. He swallowed down his immediate fear and smiled. “Please?”
That only made Ailos more suspicious, his sage green eyes narrowing. “Skittish, aren’t we? What’s a runt doing scampering around in these parts, anyway?”
Tayuin clenched his jaw, irritation and impatience quickly overriding his anxiety. “I could ask the same.”
Ailos shrugged. “The library. Some of us don’t fear reading under a summer glare.”
Lips pursed, Tayuin almost snarled back, but the sound of pursuit was no longer confined to his imagination. He held his breath, hoping his brother hadn’t heard the same distant call, but the forming smirk told him otherwise.
“Is that… Dad?” Ailos chuckled. “Oh, little brat, what have you gotten yourself into now?”
How far away was that name-calling? How long would it take for Qariel to reach the first guard he’d passed, for them to point him in the right direction? Tayuin’s breath quickened, his mind racing. It was too late, he… Unless.
“I know where to find the Laivyal piece,” he blurted out, though quickly reigned in his desperation as his words had the desired effect. Ailos’s grin dissolved into a defensive glare, and it was Tayuin’s turn to smirk.
“The what?” Ailos attempted to deflect, but they both knew it was too late for him to hide his initial reaction. “Oh, that old necklace. What of it? It was stolen,” he stated pointedly, attempting to wave it off with a flick of his wrist.
“Not by the servant condemned for it. Or was it a guard? I forget.” Tayuin shrugged. “Never really made sense, did it? Stealing such a recognisable trinket. It’s not like they could have ever worn it, or sold it, so why take it? I suppose they could have broken it up, but the stones aren’t worth the same as they are a piece, are they?”
“I suppose not,” Ailos agreed through gritted teeth. Both their eyes briefly flicked to the direction of another distant call. How long did they have? A minute, maybe two? “What’s your point?”
“Does it still count as stolen if a member of the royal family… borrows it?” Tayuin watched in satisfaction as his brother’s eye twitched. “What if one loses it?”
“Get to the point, brat.”
He hastened his words as his brother’s patience visibly depleted. “You didn’t ‘lose’ it. It wasn’t swiped off you, either, as you believe. You gifted it away, too drunk to remember doing so, or to whom.”
“…You can’t possibly know that—”
“You gave it to a whore, Ailos. I’ve seen it. I could tell you which, or I could tell—”
A sudden slam knocked the breath from his tiny body. He blinked down. Snarling, Ailos had his arm pressed into his chest, just below his throat. “You fucking dare threaten me, runt?”
With what little breath he could catch, Tayuin laughed. He couldn’t help himself; he’d never gotten such a strong reaction from his brother before. Ailos’s hatred had always been tangible, yet invariably cold and full of disdain. Never rage. Even with his back pressed into a wall, struggling to breathe freely, this felt like a small victory. Meeting Ailos’s eye without fear, his brother’s strength faltered for just a second.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Ailos hissed, quickly renewing his grip and his glare. “To tell would be admitting you’ve been there, and we both know that’s far outside your permitted confines, to say nothing of the indecency of such a place.”
“Ah, but I’m just the runt,” Tayuin giggled, grinning wide, even as some carved ornamentation bit deep into his shoulder blade. “I have so little left to lose.”
Rapid footsteps echoed from nearby, and Ailos’s eyes darted briefly in their direction. From his hesitation, Tayuin thought he might still cast him to the lion anyway, but instead, he roughly shoved the younger behind the corner pilaster. As the footsteps reached the connecting passageway, Ailos threw him one last fleeting glare before stepping out. Tayuin pulled himself into the wall as tightly as possible, though it was unlikely to be enough if anyone looked around too far.
The footsteps slowed immediately. “…Ailos.” Their father’s voice was stiff. “Have you seen your brother come this way?”
“Which?”
“Tay.”
Ailos laughed, unsurprisingly very convincing. “Does he ever even leave his quarters?”
A long pause made Tayuin almost tempted to peek out further, wondering if he only imagined the contempt emanating from his father. “What are you skulking around here for?” Qariel asked, his tone still just as clipped.
Ailos shrugged. “What else is an unfavoured son to do with his time?”
Another long pause. What Tayuin wouldn’t give to see what was passing between the two within that silence. “…You owe your uncle an apology,” Qariel stated tersely. Thick tension saturated the air, drawing out for an uncomfortable stretch, causing even Tayuin to hold his breath. Eventually, Ailos let out a small snort of a laugh.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
A low growl and a sharp exhale from Qariel signalled the end of his patience, and his footsteps continued off towards the library. After a few moments waiting to be sure, Tayuin slumped down the wall in relief.
“At least he cares, I suppose,” Ailos muttered, to himself or not, Tayuin wasn’t sure. He pushed himself upright to see him staring off the way their father had left. “Which one?” Ailos eventually asked over his shoulder.
Tayuin bit his lip. “You promise you won’t harm them?”
“Now you concern yourself? After already agreeing to throw them to the fire?” Ailos scoffed. “Fine, I promise.”
“…His name is Kallias. He had the chain of jewels broken into two—”
“Bracelets…”
Tayuin nodded. “He wears them all the time. And an earring he doesn’t, made from the pendant. Keeps it in his chamber; too easy to identify.”
“Of course.” Ailos laughed quietly under his breath. “Sharp eye, I wouldn’t have…” Catching himself, he cleared his throat. “Don’t think you’ll find leverage on me again, brat.”
“You sure? You are rather careless,” Tayuin snarked, bracing himself for more wrath, but was surprised to hear a faint chuckle instead.
“And yet…” Ailos’s unexpectedly bittersweet tone trailed off, until he came to his senses with a shake of his head. “You might think of resuming your escape before he doubles back. Does he know you’d never brave His Royal Highness’s suites, no matter how desperate? Either way…”
Taken aback by his brother’s demeanour, Tayuin slowly took a retreating step back. “I… uh, thank—”
“Don’t. You don’t thank someone you just extorted, not unless you’re throwing in a heaping pile of mockery. You’ll get the hang of it,” he said, laughing bitterly. When Tayuin didn’t respond, Ailos looked back with a raised brow. “Run, no?”
That snapped Tayuin out of it, and the young prince fled without another thought.
Qariel knew it was already lost. He knew, somehow, Tayuin had slipped through his fingers. He knew he hadn’t the words to fix things even if he did find him. He knew all this, even as he desperately pressed on, ignoring the bewildered expressions of the Sentinels at the library door as he pushed past. Only as he watched Ethryon step down the circular staircase in the centre, eyes locked on the book in hand, did he finally accept it was over.
Ethryon glanced up from his reading only to double-take. He paused his descent, long, elegant fingers resting on one of the beautifully carved rose vines that wound down the bannister. “I thought you’d be readying for your departure by now.”
“You weren’t at lunch,” Qariel muttered.
Ethryon smiled, and Qariel grimaced at how much he recognised of himself in it. As much his mother’s son as he strived to be, he certainly emulated Kaelys near perfectly. But Qariel knew all too well that arrogance, the pride beneath the surface of that calculated aloofness. Too much of his mother, and too much of his father, all rolled into one.
“Forgive me, the General is a little too much to take at times.”
“I doubt he’d be any less so as an in-law, you know?”
“We tolerate more from family, though, don’t we?” Ethryon chuckled faintly, continuing his descent and crossing the floor to meet him. With each step, the light through the glass dome above reflected off the embroidery on his robes, golden flowers flowing over fine ivory silk. His long golden hair was held back in a loose tie, and he looked, by his standards, at ease.
“…I suppose we do. To a point.”
“You and Mother still haven’t come to an agreement, have you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Please, you have the same quarrel consistently.” Ethryon smiled still, but his sharp eyes watched him carefully. “You know she’ll never agree, yet you ask every time. Do your promises to him really mean that much to you?”
“Is that so wrong?” Qariel asked tersely.
“I suppose not. I’m just curious why you’ve never extended the same to your other children.”
Qariel scowled deeper. “What promises have I ever broken?”
“Hm? Oh, no, I mean your offer to take him along. For what it’s worth, I agree he should go. The boy has no purpose here. But neither do the twins, yet you don’t fight the same for them. Is it because of your promise? Or do you see potential where you don’t in them? Or do you simply favour him?”
“You’re… accusing me of favouritism? Whilst you sit at the top of the chain? You don’t see the irony in that?”
Ethryon shrugged nonchalantly. “Being first in line doesn’t make me anyone’s favourite, nor do I care for such petty things. But you’re naive if you think the twins don’t see it as such. Some things must weigh on my shoulders, things they’ll never have to concern themselves with; Mother has no choice but to spend her time preparing me. You have no such excuse.” Something must have passed over Qariel’s expression as Ethryon quickly raised a hand in appeasement. “I mean no offence, Father. I’m merely pointing out how it looks to them.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you simply care about their feelings?” Qariel sneered. Ethryon calmly studied him for a long moment.
“No, of course not. But they are becoming… problematic. Eilee, not so much. She makes trouble, but simple enough things to overlook or, at worst, rectify. Nothing severe enough to raise eyebrows to the Eth’salin name. But Ailos…”
With an impatient sigh, Qariel rolled his eyes. “If one more person suggests I handle this, I’ve half a mind to drag him before your mother myself.”
“One more…? Ah, of course. Uncle Kyron.” Ethryon sighed, beginning to pace slightly. “Even he will not risk speaking with her, then. Suppose there is nothing much else to be done. I’ll try to arrange the necessary appeasement offerings and prepare for the repercussions should they not be accepted. Perhaps I can even delay Uncle Tshyan until Mother comes to her senses…”
Qariel blinked, unsure where the conversation had turned. “The… repercussions?”
Ethryon stopped and frowned. “Well, yes? The Kel’shaels are an influential family, as are the Al’taelyons. Alaria and Faron’s union was to be highly beneficial to both families, politically and financially. You think there won’t be any backlash should either discover a royal family member is behind their deal falling through? And if it gets out further than that? Will all of Ailos’s past exploits stay silently buried? All it takes is one more whisper for something like this to escalate.” He pressed his fingers wearily into his eyes. “Ailos has truly fucked up this time. There may be some understanding that not everyone enters into a marriage… pure. But this was targeted. He pursued that boy knowing he was promised, and for nothing more than spite. He has gone too far.”
Qariel would be the first to admit how little he enjoyed such politics. The back and forth of diplomacy, dancing around dialogues behind a mask of civility, the logic and logistics of building alliances; these were all things he could find entertainment in, in his own ways. But he have never been particularly good at following the cold, calculated machinations behind arranged marriages, nor caring enough about the little trifles of the court that, unchecked, could easily spiral into potential threats. Nor, truthfully, had Kaelys. Kyron had always had a stronger head for such things, though, since his departure from court, it seemed the burden had fallen upon Qariel’s eldest son instead.
“I… don’t know that I can help, Eth,” he admitted quietly.
Shaking his head, Ethryon gave a short laugh. “You could always bring him with you and ‘accidentally’ lose him in the Wastes.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“No, of course not. He’s still my brother, infuriatingly selfish as he is. It’s where he’ll end up if he continues to push his luck, though.”
“The… Frozen Wastes?”
“Lost. Metaphorically speaking. At some point, Mother will accept admitting her failure to parent Ailos is less painful, politically, than the failure itself. When the humiliation of disowning him will be less than he brings upon us with his behaviour. And then… I shall have to deal with it.”
Qariel stared off numbly. How had things gotten so fractured during his absences? And how had he missed so many signs? Tayuin was right; he was gone far too much to make any difference. Things were getting out of hand, and from Ethryon’s weariness, it had gone on far too long.
“If I were going anywhere else, I would call off my departure… but we can’t endure another winter skirmishing on the northern borders with those blasted elves. Do you think you can hold off a catastrophe until my return?”
“…Possibly. If Ailos can go that long without doing anything too foolish before our leaving for the winter palace.”
Qariel cringed. “Three months. That’s a big ‘if’.”
“And speaking with him on it would only ensure his rebellion. I suppose I could push to depart a little earlier. I don’t think Mother would object, honestly. That doesn’t solve the problem he’s already caused, though.”
“Speak with Kel’shael—your Uncle Tshyan—in person. Tell him I’m dealing with it, but he must be patient. Ask him to hold off, as a favour to me. Make that part very clear, okay?”
Ethryon nodded uneasily. “And the families? Even without knowing Ailos’s involvement, their feuding will still cause ripples.”
“Pacify the Al’taelyons… somehow. I don’t know; that seems to be your strength.” Qariel gestured vaguely, and his son laughed faintly. “Get them to drop the issue as much as possible for now. That’ll leave the Kel’shaels free to not respond. Just… get things to a point of civility until I return. Or better yet, until we all return to Arbor’sai in the spring, if you can find a way for them to agree to that.”
“I can try, certainly. What will you do?”
“Throttle your brother myself, if it comes to it,” Qariel muttered, half tempted to turn about and do just that, though he quickly sighed the thought away. Ethryon raised a brow, and Qariel didn’t quite meet his eye as he turned to leave.
“It’s long past time I put my foot down…”
Afterword
remember when this story was supposed to be about Tay? he’s in like a third of this chapter, oops. tbh, as much as this whole thing is his backstory and about his experiences, I realised it just doesn’t work without diving at least a little bit into the fractured relationships deteriorating alongside his. As weird as it’s been somewhat humanising his brothers, I think it’s kinda important to show they’re trapped in this system too, and whilst they may not have it quite as bad in Tay in most ways, they maybe don’t have it *quite* as easy as he thinks.
ANYWAY. this was long and I’m tired, bye.
F A E L Y N 
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