The campfire crackled low under the pale light of dawn. Soldiers bustled in the distance, preparing for their return to the capital, yet within the prince's tent, the atmosphere was markedly more relaxed — though only on the surface.
Caelum poured wine into his goblet, the faint curl of a smirk tugging at his lips. "It's rare to see you in good spirits, Brother. You almost look human."
Alaric, seated opposite him, gave a dry laugh. "Careful, Caelum. Your attempt at humor might almost be mistaken for affection."
"Ah," Caelum replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "You know I've always admired your... control. To think the once 'feral prince' now walks about without making the court faint from his scent. Truly, that herbalist of yours must be a miracle worker."
The words carried a faint edge, but Alaric only smiled — faintly, coldly. "Indeed. I suppose even miracles need an intelligent hand to guide them. Rin is not like the others. He sees beyond the surface."
"Hmm," Caelum hummed, swirling the wine in his cup. "You sound fond of him. Don't tell me the First Prince, who despises omegas, has finally found someone to tame him?"
Alaric's eyes flickered, catching the glint of the firelight. "He's a beta," he corrected sharply. "And I don't need taming. But I admit—he's... remarkable. His skill, his composure. Even when others would cower, he meets my gaze as though I were merely a patient to tend to."
Caelum chuckled under his breath, the sound more mocking than kind. "How noble of him. I'm sure he's an exceptional healer—perhaps even a better liar."
Alaric's brow rose. "You say that as if you know him."
"Oh, I don't," Caelum said with a lazy shrug, taking a sip of wine. "But I do know his type. Quiet, clever, always pretending to be smaller than they are. The sort of person who smiles at you while hiding something sharp behind their back."
"Then he'd fit right in at court," Alaric replied dryly. Yet despite his tone, there was a spark in his voice — a flicker of something alive. "When we return, I'll have him prepare a new batch of Sovereign's Calm. The scent of home might remind me why I tolerated the Capital at all."
Caelum's eyes glinted in amusement. "Ah. So the mighty prince misses his herbalist. How touching."
Alaric ignored the taunt. His thoughts were already elsewhere — on quiet hands sorting petals, on the faint metallic tang of the aether veil, and beneath it, that elusive note of sweetness.
A scent like earth after rain. Like something he had forgotten.
---
Meanwhile, back in the Capital — in the private garden of the Queen Consort — a maid knelt before her mistress, trembling slightly as she delivered her report.
"Your Grace," she began softly, "the herbalist Rin... he has requested permission to leave the palace. His belongings remain in his quarters, but he has made arrangements to depart by tomorrow morning."
A brief hush fell over the garden. The Queen Consort sat perfectly still, her gloved fingers resting lightly on the porcelain cup beside her. Around her, the members of her faction waited, uneasy beneath the faint rustle of silk and wind.
At length, a slow smile touched her lips — delicate, deliberate.
"So the thorn seeks to remove itself," she murmured, voice smooth as honey. "How... considerate."
One of the ladies at her side hesitated. "Your Grace, shall we monitor his departure—?"
"There is no need," the Queen Consort interrupted, tone cool and measured. She set her cup down with a quiet click. "Whether he leaves tomorrow or the next day, the result will be the same. Let him go. The King may dote on his little herbalist, but the Capital forgets quickly. And when the First Prince returns..."
Her gaze drifted toward the far horizon, where the mountains glowed faintly in the afternoon light.
"...he will have other matters to attend to."
For a fleeting moment, something cold and sharp glimmered in her eyes.
"After all," she said softly, "a garden begins to flourish the moment its weeds decide to leave."
---