The silver bell in the grand dining hall rang twice .. a soft chime, gentle but commanding ... and the double doors were flung open by two uniformed guards.
But before that, sunlight had barely warmed the high stone windows when Vaelric stormed into the room, still beaming from the night before.
His little boots tapped with proud purpose across the marble floor, a leather-bound book tucked under his arm like a knight bearing a sacred scroll. His reddish-blonde hair had been roughly combed by his nursemaid, still bearing signs of sleep ... wild and tousled, curls rebelliously sticking up like storm clouds caught in a gust.
At the head of the long, polished table sat Valerian, handsome like always. Already dressed in his navy-blue tunic and silver cape, sipping from a goblet of dark wine while reviewing parchment scrolls handed to him by his steward.
The Storm Lord's expression was unreadable ... a man carved from patience and frost, though his storm-gray eyes twitched with amusement at the sound of his son's arrival.
Beside him sat the ever-imposing Dowager Lady Aelira, Valerian's mother and former High Lady of the Storm Isles. Draped in twilight-purple robes that shimmered faintly with fine thread, her silver hair was arranged into an elegant crown braid. Her sapphire eyes settled on the boy with a soft sigh.
"Well, look who returns from slaying mythical beasts in the forest," she said dryly, tapping her jeweled spoon once against her teacup. "The brave Prince Vaelric the Disobedient."
Vaelric paused mid-step, wincing. "I'm sorry, Grandmother."
"You nearly gave me a heart attack," she went on, though her voice lacked true venom. "Do you know how long I paced these halls last night, worried you'd been snatched by bandits or worse ... run off to become a stable boy in Caelmont?"
Valerian chuckled behind his goblet. "Mother, he's seven. If he ran off to Caelmont, they'd knight him out of sheer confusion."
"Don't encourage him," Aelira muttered, but there was no real heat behind the words.
"I really am sorry," Vaelric said as he climbed into the chair beside his grandmother. "But it was my birthday and you only gave me cake. Father was the one who promised...."
"I came, didn't I?" Valerian interrupted, lowering his goblet.
The boy's shoulders slumped in theatrical dismay. "After dark."
"You were fast asleep when I found you," Valerian replied, raising a brow. "Dreaming of witches and riddles, no doubt."
Vaelric squirmed in his seat. "Maybe."
Valerian leaned forward slightly. "And what were you even doing that far into the forest, Vaelric?"
"I got... curious," the boy murmured, then hesitated. "And I was sad."
Aelira's sharp features softened. "Then next time, be sad in the gardens. Not where beasts and whispers dwell."
Vaelric glanced up at her, about to respond, but the sound of soft footsteps and a discreet cough interrupted the moment.
The castle butler bowed deeply. "Pardon the interruption, my lords and lady, but... Lady Cynthia of House Raventhorn requests entry into the castle."
Aelira's expression immediately brightened. "Oh, wonderful! Let her in. I did hope she'd join us for the boy's birthday weekend."
Valerian's jaw tightened. "Did you now."
Valerian raised a brow but said nothing.
Vaelric, however, visibly deflated groaned quietly, as if the world has turned gray. His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at his bread like it had betrayed him.
Lady Cynthia arrived seconds later, gliding into the dining hall like a wind wrapped in perfume and pretension.
Her raven-black hair spilled like liquid velvet down her back, and her emerald green gown clung to her form with artful restraint. Her painted smile stretched wide at the sight of the prince.
"Your Grace," she said, dipping into a curtsy before Valerian. "Dowager Aelira, Your Highness... and the birthday prince himself." She placed a delicate hand on her chest as if the sight overwhelmed her. "I came as quickly as I could."
Aelira beamed. "Come, come. Sit with us. You must be starving."
Cynthia took the seat beside Vaelric, to his dismay, and smiled sweetly down at him.
"My little lion," she cooed, brushing a strand of hair from his brow with theatrical affection. "Still sleepy-eyed, are we?"
"I'm not a lion," Vaelric grumbled, voice low. "And I'm not yours."
Valerian chuckled but said nothing, watching the two of them like a hawk surveying prey, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he sipped his wine.
Cynthia laughed, too sweet. "Spirited! That's good. The realm needs a future lord with fire in his veins."
"The realm also needs a woman with restraint," Valerian murmured, setting down his goblet.
The dowager ignored the tension with the grace of someone long accustomed to palatial politics.
She poured a cup of tea for Cynthia. "Indeed. And what the realm also needs is a proper lady by the Storm Lord's side. Don't you agree, Valerian?"
Valerian picked up his napkin, dabbing his mouth. "Depends on the lady."
Cynthia gave a laugh that could shatter glass. "Oh, Storm Lord. You'll be the death of me."
Vaelric rolled his eyes. She always said that. She always said things like that. And when his father and grandmother weren't looking, her hands were cold and her smiles vanished.
He picked up a strawberry from his plate and stared at it for a long moment and he pretended it was her face.
Then he bit into it with sudden force.
Crunch.
"So," Cynthia said brightly, turning to the boy, "I've had a dress commissioned from Virelia's finest seamstress for tonight's little gathering in your honor. I heard music will play in the east wing?"
"You don't have to come," Vaelric said flatly.
"Vaelric," Aelira warned gently, though her voice was calm.
"I mean...." he added quickly, looking between them, "if you're busy. Or... if your smile hurts too much."
Cynthia blinked, her smile freezing
Valerian nearly spat out his wine
Cynthia blinked. Her lips twitched into a brittle smile. "Of course, darling. That's... charming.
"Children," Aelira said with a tight smile, smoothing over the moment like a practiced courtier, "say the strangest things."
"Of course," Cynthia echoed, her voice clipped.
The breakfast continued with the occasional clink of silver on porcelain, and the soft rustle of Valerian's steward setting more scrolls at his side. Lady Aelira resumed her tea, though her eyes were watching her son with interest.
Then Valerian leaned slightly toward his son, lowering his voice. "Were you dreaming when I found you?"
Vaelric looked up at him with wide, unreadable eyes. "I don't think so."
"You were lying at the edge of the woods," Valerian said quietly. "Like you were waiting."
"I wasn't waiting," the boy replied, his voice more distant now. "She said she would find me again... when I'm ready."
Valerian frowned. "Who?"
Vaelric only sipped his milk, his lips forming no answer.
Silence settled, heavy and unexplained.
And outside, unnoticed by all but the wind, the storm clouds began to gather.