The grand dining table stretched across the glittering hall, candles flickering against the gold walls. The royal family gathered, each taking their places. At the head sat King Aldric, proud and stern, his crown heavy yet steady. On his right was Queen Seraphina, graceful and warm, while on his left sat his second wife, Lady Elira, soft-spoken but sharp-eyed. Beside them were the king's brothers, Lord Marius, quick with his laughter, and Lord Darius, whose silence often carried weight.
At the side of the table sat Prince Kael, the king's eldest son. Though still young at thirty, with sharp eyes and a lean build, his presence carried a quiet strength. His dark hair framed his serious face, and his gaze, though calm, held a command that even the older men respected.
The family shared laughter as trays of food arrived, though sometimes their words hid sharp edges. Old rivalries between the brothers and the queens flickered beneath the smiles, yet tonight they were together, a picture of royal harmony. Only Kael's eyes, restless and searching, broke the moment — for they strayed toward the corner of the hall, where a kitchen boy stood nervously, waiting.
When the small kitchen boy, Ael, stepped forward to serve a dish he had cooked for the first time, Kael's eyes lingered on him a moment longer than they should have.
The prince felt something stir within him — not for the dish itself, but for the quiet boy who had made it. At the far end of the table, Prince Kael leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on the shy young cook. It was not only the food that caught his interest, but the quiet fire in Ael's eyes — a spark Kael had not seen in anyone for a long time.
Kael took only a few small bites of his dinner before pushing the plate aside. Standing tall, he offered a calm excuse of "unfinished work" to the table. Without waiting for questions, he rose and left the hall. His steps were steady, but his heart raced as he made his way to his private chamber — away from his father's gaze, away from his family's cheer, and away from the boy who had unknowingly shaken his composure.
Kael shut the heavy doors of his chamber behind him, leaning against the carved wood as if to block out the noise of the hall. The laughter of his family still echoed faintly in his ears, yet all he could think of was the boy in the kitchen.
He had barely touched his food—royal dishes never pleased him much, for their richness felt heavy and lifeless to his tongue. But that small dish served by Ael… it had a spark, something simple yet alive, unlike the banquet he had abandoned.
His jaw tightened. "Why him? Why now?" he asked himself, pacing the floor. The image of Ael's small frame, his uncertain hands serving the dish, the quiet way he avoided every royal's eyes—these details clung to Kael's thoughts like chains.
He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. His father's voice thundered in his mind: "A prince shows no weakness. A prince marries for power, not for feelings." Kael clenched his fists. He could not show this desire, not here, not before them.
Yet, when he remembered the taste of the dish—simple, spiced, filled with care—his chest ached with something unshakable. It wasn't just the food. It was the boy behind it.
Kael closed his eyes, whispering to himself: "I will not let him slip from my sight… even if I must hide it from everyone else."