Days passed, and the panic faded like dust swept beneath a rug.
No one questioned Lord Victor Dair's disappearance anymore.
The whispers quieted. The servants stopped searching. The nobles, satisfied by ink and seal, found new things to murmur about.
His belongings were packed in neat trunks and loaded onto a carriage.
The letter—penned in his own trembling hand—was tied with a ribbon and tucked atop them.
It arrived at his estate days later, informing his household that their master had departed for personal matters.
No one doubted it.
Why would they?
The seal was undoubtedly his. The words were familiar. The lie was perfect.
And Victor Dair?
Still beneath the palace, unseen.
Still breathing.
For now.
◇◇◇◇
Life had finally settled. The palace returned to its familiar rhythm, and the looming shadow of the king's concubine remained far away in the east — a welcome delay that brought with it an unusual calm.
August, for once, allowed himself to relax.
He no longer wore gloves inside his own chambers. The pale skin of his hands rested bare on polished wood, fingers tapping idly over a parchment as sunlight filtered through the tall windows.
Caelan noticed the moment she stepped inside.
"I see you're not wearing gloves today, Your Highness," she remarked, voice quiet but edged with observation as she approached his desk. In her hand were documents — recruit reports, training schedules, and expense ledgers.
"I felt like changing the pace a little," August replied without looking up, his tone as even and unreadable as ever. He accepted the papers with long fingers and began flipping through them.
A beat passed. Then, without lifting his gaze, he added, "I heard my brother has been rather attached to your side these days."
Caelan remained still. "Yes. I was tasked with overseeing his training."
"I see." August's voice was light, but there was something curled beneath it — amusement, maybe. Or something quieter. "Is he any good?"
"For someone his age," Caelan answered, tone careful. "Yes."
That made August pause. Slowly, he looked up at her.
"Should I be worried?"
His eyes locked with hers — steady, dark, thoughtful.
And for a moment, the air between them stilled, like a string pulled too tight.
Caelan smiled — not the formal kind reserved for courtrooms or royal processions, but something more familiar, slipping from behind her usual restraint.
"Nah," she said lightly, voice carrying a rare warmth. "He loves you to death. All he's been talking about lately is how he wants to grow stronger — like me, apparently — so he can stand by your side and protect you."
August blinked, surprised by her sudden informality. But his expression darkened.
"…That's not what I asked."
The smile faded from Caelan's lips. She exhaled softly and shifted her stance.
"Politically," she said, voice low now, "he's even more invisible than he ever was."
"A prince who sleeps and eats with commoners, and is trained by them? I don't think the court takes kindly to that. Besides…" her gaze narrowed slightly, "he was neglected so thoroughly that no one even questioned his absence for an entire week."
August's shoulders tensed. His eyes snapped up to hers, wide — vulnerable, for just a heartbeat.
"Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Caelan answered gently. "He was with me the whole time."
She gave a small smile again — something unreadable behind her eyes.
"Maybe give him a little chance," she added, tone softer now. "A brief meeting. Let him see you, even if it's only for a moment."
August hesitated. The tension lingered in his posture. His fingers curled faintly over the edge of the parchment on his desk.
"I…" he looked away, his voice quieter, "I don't think I can do that. Not right now."
His eyes didn't meet hers again. "But… tell him to take care of himself."
The words were an order, carefully disguised as a sentiment.
"…Dismissed."
Caelan paused — just for a second — then bowed, slipping seamlessly back into her proper form.
"Very well, Your Highness," she said with a flicker of something unreadable in her tone. "Call me if you need me. I'll be right beneath the balcony — training the little sun."
She turned on her heel and left without another word.
◇◇◇◇
As Caelan walked down the corridor, her boots striking softly against the polished stone, her mind was far from still. Shadows clung to her thoughts as tightly as the leather around her hands.
I can never tell him the real reason Lucian is by my side.
The truth would break him. The fact that I'm protecting his brother not out of duty — but because he's the only living witness to what August went through as a child. And neither of them even knows it.
Her jaw tensed. Her eyes flickered faintly beneath her lashes, catching the morning light as she stepped outside.
I'm not just his shield. I'm using him. Every kind smile, every warm hand on his back — it's all part of the illusion.
Because as much as I swore to protect him... I'm still using him for my own gains.
The training grounds stretched before her, bathed in weak sunlight. And there he was — little Lucian. Sword in hand, chasing Arin across the grass with a giggle so bright it startled her thoughts to a halt.
His hair bounced with every step, ribbon still somehow neatly tied from the early morning. His laughter echoed across the yard like wind chimes, free and unburdened.
And just like that, the tension bled from her shoulders.
Her expression softened.
She stepped forward, eyes fixed on the child who didn't yet know the weight of his blood.
"Little chick," she called out, smirking faintly as she crossed her arms, "aim for his shin!"
Lucian lit up like a firework.
"Yes, sir!" he shouted, charging with renewed energy — and Arin's exaggerated yelp filled the air.
For now, it was enough. Lies or not.
She would keep them both safe — even if they never knew why.
Arin was now face-planted into the training yard dirt, groaning dramatically.
On top of him sat a triumphant little knight, grinning ear to ear with flushed cheeks and windswept hair.
"Haha! I win!" Lucian declared, jumping up and dashing toward Caelan with arms wide.
He flung himself at her, hugging her around the waist, looking up at her with eyes that practically sparkled. "Father! Did I do well?!"
Caelan, caught off guard by the sudden burst of affection, blinked once, then chuckled under her breath — the kind of soft, rare sound only Lucian ever earned.
"You did better than Arin when he first started," she said, resting a gloved hand gently on his head and ruffling his hair with something very close to fondness.
Lucian beamed.
Over by the training post, Arin groaned again. "Commander! You're so mean..."
But even he smiled after seeing lucian so happy.