FOURTEEN
Rylan
My fingers itchat my sword hilt as Duke Eldridge leans in way too close to me as he walks me out to the waiting carriage. When I spin around, he’s right there, his face inches from mine, more creased than usual, his voice filled with concern. “You need to relay to the king the severity of the situation. These rebels... they’re becoming bolder by the day. The movement is spreading faster than any of us anticipated. The kingdom needs you, Your Highness, to keep them in check.”
I nod, my expression steady. “I understand, Duke Eldridge. I’ll do what I can.”
He’s right to worry. The rebellion isn’t just growing—it’s thriving, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the kingdom will see just how strong it is. And the king’s council knows it all too well. It’s the aristocrats who are only just starting to catch on. It’s funny what people will pay attention to when their privilege is threatened.
“Safe travels, Your Highness,” he says, stepping back as I climb into the carriage.
“Thank you. And please, again, accept the gratitude of Their Majesties for hosting the princesses this last week.”
He bows, “Of course. It was our pleasure.”
Inside, my sisters are waiting. The moment I settle into my seat, the carriage lurches forward, the cobblestones beneath us creating a steady rhythm.
Elara, sitting straight-backed with her auburn hair impeccably braided, eyes me critically. “You took your time,” she remarks, her tone reproachful. “I’m surprised the Duke let you leave without introducing you to his daughter again.”
Elara’s words are always precise, chosen as carefully as her expressions. She’s the spitting image of our father, with sharp cheekbones and a gaze that could cut glass. It’s a look that demands respect, even if it grates on me at times. Sometimes I forget that she’s two years my junior and not, in fact, my older sister. She’s one of the rare people who isn’t afraid of me.
I sigh, leaning back into the seat. “Lady Francesca’s not my type. I’d appreciate it if you reminded her of that next time you’re staying with her for a month.”
“Oh, so you admit you have a type?” Alina teases as she sits across from me, grinning mischievously. She’s all bright eyes and bouncing curls, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the picture of youthful exuberance. Her presence is a contrast to Elara’s sharpness—all sunshine and smiles. As the youngest, she’s even less afraid of me than Elara is. Probably because she knows that there’s a soft spot in my heart reserved just for her. There always has been.
“Not what I meant, Lina-Lou,” I reply, using her childhood nickname. She giggles and knocks her foot against mine. But my thoughts are worlds away, with someone I shouldn’t bethinking about. With someone who definitely isn’t my type, even if I had one.
Elara crosses her arms, watching me closely. “Perhaps you should start thinking about whatisyour type, brother. You’re not getting any younger, and there are responsibilities—”
“Responsibilities that he’s already handling just fine,” Alina interjects, giving Elara a pointed look. If she’s not afraid of me, then she’s for sure not afraid of our sister. “Honestly, can’t you let him have a moment’s peace?”
The conflict between Elara and me is as old as we are—born of our differences, our individual struggles with our responsibilities, yet always tempered by the unspoken bond of family. I love her, but she never misses an opportunity to remind me of the duties I can’t escape. Sometimes, I think she forgets who our father is, and reminding me is hardly necessary.
They continue talking, but my attention slips, thoughts wandering to where they have for the last few days.Her.The way she holds herself, the quiet strength in her gaze... that adorable furrow of her brow when she’s concentrating. The look of defiance when anything isn’t going her way. The way her ass rubbed back against me, making me raging hard every time she shifted in the saddle. I wonder if she’s okay and… if she’s thinking about me.
Stop it, Rylan. I cross my arms and shake my head, trying to clear my mind of thoughts of her.
“Thinking about someone special, brother?” Alina’s voice breaks through my reverie, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“What? No!” I say quickly, too quickly. “Just tired. Duke Eldridge raised some issues that need to be sorted out.”
Elara frowns, ever the serious one. “You need to take better care of yourself, brother. Mother worries about you, you know. Frankly, we all do.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, forcing a small smile. It’s the best I can offer, given the circumstances.
The carriage rumbles on, the sky turning dark with each passing kilometre. When the city’s outskirts give way to open fields and distant woods, I knock on the roof, signalling the driver to stop. The carriage grinds to a halt, and both of my sisters turn to me with knowing looks. Elara’s is a mixture of disapproval and concern, while Alina’s is pure curiosity. But it’s nothing new; they’re used to me disappearing at a moment’s notice.
“Off to play the mysterious Crown Prince again?” Alina teases, her tone light but with a hint of something more, an unspoken wish that I didn’t have to leave. We rarely get to spend much time together anymore. I wonder if we will have unending days together like in our childhoods ever again. “Can’t I come with you on one of these trips sometime?”
I manage a smirk, though it feels more bitter than anything. “You’re welcome to take on the role instead of me.”
Elara rolls her eyes, always the responsible one. “As if you’d ever let us.”
It’s the age-old argument. Envy over birth order. But as much as I love and respect her, Elara has all the makings of a terrible queen. Everything our mother has, she lacks. She’s our father’s daughter through and through.
“Be careful,” she adds, softer now, her hand briefly touching mine.
“I always am,” I reply, squeezing her hand before I climb out of the carriage. It’s the best reassurance I can give. “Have a safe trip home. I’ll see you in a few days. Make sure to check in on Mother as soon as you arrive.”
