Author's POV....
The journey back to Ravencourt stretched long across shifting landscapes, the rhythm of hooves beating against earth like a steady drum guiding them home.
Morning sunlight had softened into afternoon gold by the time they crossed the outer plains. The sky was vast and open, streaked with thin clouds that drifted lazily overhead. Wind rolled through tall grass, bending it in shimmering waves that parted as the riders advanced.
Maelis rode at the front.
His posture was straight but relaxed, one hand steady on the reins, the other resting carefully near his injured arm. The white cloth wrapped around it peeked beneath his sleeve, bright against the dark riding attire he wore. His pale hair caught the light, strands lifting gently in the wind, brushing against his cheeks.
Theron rode slightly to his right.
Riven closed the distance quietly and positioned himself on Maelis left.
Close. Protectively close.
The sound of leather, metal, and hoofbeats blended into a steady cadence. Behind them, Caleb and the others followed in formation, speaking occasionally, laughing at small things, the tension from the earlier confrontation fading into the background but not entirely gone.
Riven said nothing. He kept pace perfectly with Maelis horse, eyes forward, jaw set.
Maelis noticed. He noticed the silence.
Usually Riven would ask something small. Whether his arm hurt. Whether he was tired. Whether he wanted water. But now he was quiet. Too quiet.
Maelis glanced sideways briefly.
Riven's expression was unreadable. His dark hair partially covered his eyes, but his posture was rigid, his hands firm on the reins.
Maelis wanted to ask.
Are you upset? Did I do something? But he could not. Because what would he say? Why are you acting strange? That would only make things more awkward.
Instead, he cleared his throat softly.
"The weather is nice today," Maelis said lightly, trying to ease the stiffness in the air.
Riven nodded once. "Yes."
That was all.
Theron glanced over, catching the exchange. His lips curved faintly, though his eyes were sharp.
"You look exhausted, Your Highness," Theron said smoothly. "Shall we slow down?"
Maelis frowned slightly. "I am not exhausted."
"You were injured."
"I am fine."
Riven's grip tightened almost imperceptibly.
Theron noticed and smirked slowly, as if he had just confirmed something he suspected.
Their horses continued side by side, shoulders nearly aligned, the three of them moving like a unit despite the invisible cracks forming between them.
They passed through small villages along the way. Farmers paused their work to bow deeply. Children waved excitedly. Traders pulled carts aside to clear the road.
Word had already spread. The Crown Prince had succeeded.
As Ravencourt's towering silhouette finally appeared on the horizon, the mood shifted.
Massive stone walls rose proudly against the sky, banners of deep blue and silver fluttering from the towers. Sunlight reflected off polished armor as guards stationed along the walls straightened at the approaching procession.
The main gates stood tall and imposing, carved with the royal crest.
As the group neared, horns sounded.
Deep. Resonant.
The enormous doors of Ravencourt began to open slowly, the heavy wood groaning as chains and mechanisms shifted.
Inside, the courtyard was filled. Gongs echoed. Drums thundered. Petals rained from above as palace attendants stationed along the walls scattered baskets of flowers into the air. The scent of fresh blossoms drifted down like perfumed rain.
Guards stood in two perfect rows, spears upright, armor gleaming beneath the afternoon sun.
The horses slowed. Maelis dismounted first.
A stable attendant hurried forward to take the reins as Maelis stepped down carefully, adjusting his sleeve instinctively over his bandaged arm.
Riven dismounted immediately after him, eyes scanning instinctively for any sign of threat despite being within the palace walls.
Theron followed, smooth and confident.
The rest of the warriors dismounted in disciplined formation behind them.
Maelis stepped forward, boots clicking softly against the polished stone.
At the top of the steps stood the King and Queen.
The King stood tall, regal in dark embroidered robes, crown gleaming beneath the light. His presence was commanding, steady, proud.
Beside him stood the Queen, elegance and warmth intertwined in her posture. Her eyes searched for one person only.
Her son.
Maelis smile softened immediately when he saw them. He bowed properly.
The warriors behind him lowered themselves respectfully as well.
"Welcome, Crown Prince," the King announced proudly, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "You did it. I am so proud of you, my son. And you too, my dear princes and princesses. You proved yourselves. Now take rest and prepare for the evening banquet in your honor."
The courtyard erupted into applause again.
Maelis straightened, offering a respectful nod. "Thank you, Father."
Before he could step aside—
"Crown Prince!"
A familiar voice cut through the air.
Maelis turned.
Princess Seraphine came running down the steps, her silken dress gathered in her hands as she hurried forward. Tears glistened in her eyes, her expression full of relief and emotion. Palace maids rushed after her, trying to keep up.
She did not stop. She threw her arms around Maelis tightly.
"I missed you so much," she said breathlessly. "I was so worried about you."
Maelis froze. Completely froze.
His eyes widened slightly as her arms wrapped around him. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to place them.
He looked right. Riven stood there with blank face and clenched fists. His knuckles had turned white.
Then Maelis looked left. Theron stood stiffly, jaw tight, eyes dark.
Oh no. Oh no.
Maelis mind spiraled instantly. Oh god, why are you testing me? The novel female lead is hugging me in front of the male protagonist and deuteragonist. They both look so pissed and jealous. Why does this feel like a death flag?
He wanted to dig a hole and bury himself immediately.
"It is okay, Princess Seraphine," Maelis said nervously, attempting to gently push her back. "I am fine now. Please let go."
She did not budge. Instead, her grip tightened. Accidentally pressing against his injured arm. Maelis hissed sharply.
The Queen noticed instantly.
"What happened to your arm, sweety?" the Queen asked, stepping forward quickly, eyes wide with concern.
The King expression shifted, his sharp gaze falling on the white cloth beneath Maelis sleeve. The courtyard quieted slightly. Theron stepped forward instinctively. Riven did too but both stopped themselves.
Both stood there. Glaring at Seraphine. Maelis noticed. He swallowed.
Why are they glaring at her? Geez, they are both ridiculously possessive over her. At this rate, I am going to die by their hands if the female lead keeps clinging to me like this.
The King raised a hand calmly. "Everyone is dismissed. Royal physicians will attend to any injuries."
Servants moved swiftly. Maelis was escorted inside.
The sound of celebration resumed faintly outside as the procession dissolved.
---
The royal physician, an elderly man with careful hands and steady eyes, finished examining Maelis arm inside his chambers.
"Your Highness, the Crown Prince injury will heal soon. Please do not worry," he said respectfully to the Queen as he rewrapped the bandage neatly.
He bowed and exited quietly.
Maelis lay back against the cushions of his bed, exhaling softly. The Queen remained seated beside him.
"Mother, I am fine," Maelis said gently. "It is just a scratch."
Her eyes shimmered.
"I know I should not worry," she said softly, brushing his hair away from his forehead. "But I cannot see you injured. My heart hurts."
She leaned forward and hugged him carefully, mindful of his arm. Maelis closed his eyes briefly. For a moment, he was not Crown Prince. Just a son.
He rested his head lightly against her shoulder.
"I am safe," he murmured.
She kissed his hair and stayed there for a while, simply holding him.
When she finally rose to leave, her eyes softened. Outside the chamber door stood Riven.
Still. Silent.
Hours had passed. Servants had walked by. Guards had changed shifts. The sunlight outside the windows had shifted toward evening hues. And Riven had not moved.
His posture remained straight, hands clasped behind his back, gaze lowered respectfully.
The Queen paused. She understood more than she spoke. Riven bowed immediately when he saw her.
She smiled faintly and reached out, patting his head lightly.
"Go in," she said softly.
Then she left with her maids.
Riven stood there a moment longer before knocking gently.
"Come in," Maelis called.
Riven entered quietly.
Maelis sat up slightly and patted the edge of the bed. "Why were you standing there? Aren't you tired? Come here."
Riven approached slowly and sat at the edge.
"I am not tired," he said, shaking his head once.
His voice was steady. But his hands rested on his knees, fingers curled tightly.
Maelis studied him.
"What happened, Riven? Is anything wrong?" he asked gently.
Riven looked at him. For a brief moment.
And in that second, the storm inside him was visible.
Then he exhaled.
"Nothing happened, Crown Prince," he said quietly. "I was just worried about you." His gaze dropped to Maelis injured arm.
Maelis followed his gaze and chuckled lightly.
"Do not worry. I am completely fine."
He leaned forward and lightly nudged Riven shoulder with his good hand.
"Now go to your room and rest. Do not forget we have a banquet this evening."
He smiled. Riven looked at that smile.
Soft. Unaware. Trusting.
His chest tightened painfully. He stood slowly.
"As you command," he said quietly.
Maelis laughed and gently pushed him toward the door. "Hurry."
Riven stepped outside. The door closed softly behind him. And in the quiet hallway, his expression changed.
Not angry. Not broken. But conflicted.
His heart ached at the memory of Seraphine holding Maelis. His mind whispered dangerous alternatives.
But the image of Maelis looking at him with trust silenced those thoughts for now. He clenched his fist once. Then released it.
The evening banquet awaited. And so did the storm quietly brewing beneath polished smiles and royal lights.