Chapter CLV: Trouble
Ikkar paced the length of his chambers, the thick, velvet drapes pulled back to let the evening sun filter through. The orange glow bathed the room in warmth, but his mind was anything but calm. It had been weeks since his birthday ball, yet the image of Talia—standing alone under the cascade of fireworks, her face lit with wonder—had imprinted itself into his thoughts like ink on parchment. Talia, his mother’s new handmaiden. Talia, who should have been invisible in the eyes of a crown prince. And yet, she wasn’t.
A knock at the door startled him. He shoved his sketchbook under the loose pile of papers on his desk, his heart thudding with the guilt of a secret too potent to name. He knew it was dangerous to let his thoughts stray in this way, but every time he saw her, the rational part of his mind seemed to dissolve.
“Come in,” he said, composing himself.
Rya pushed open the door, her dark curls wild and her eyes glinting with mischief. “I thought you’d be out with Zayr and the others,” she said, stepping inside.
Ikkar shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Not tonight.”
Rya’s brow lifted. She moved around the room, trailing her fingers along the spines of books, eyes sharp with curiosity. There was a pause, the kind that siblings know too well, one that promised trouble.
“What’s that?” Rya asked, her attention snagging on the edge of the sketchbook sticking out from beneath the papers.
Ikkar’s pulse quickened. “Nothing important,” he said, stepping forward to push it deeper into the pile. But he was too slow. Rya’s reflexes, honed from years of sparring and sneaking out, were faster. She snatched the book before he could reach it, flipping it open to the latest sketch.
The silence stretched between them as she studied the page—a detailed drawing of a girl’s profile, captured mid-laughter, her eyes bright and lips parted as if she were telling a secret. It was Talia, and Ikkar had drawn her from memory, every detail so meticulously etched that there was no denying who it was.
Rya smirked, her eyes narrowing with a conspiratorial gleam. “Well, well, brother. I didn’t know you had a taste for danger.”
“Give it back, Rya,” Ikkar said, the urgency in his voice cutting through the room.
Rya didn’t move. She tilted her head, studying the drawing before turning her gaze back to him. “Talia, isn’t it? Mother’s new handmaiden. She’s always with Kira, isn’t she?”
Ikkar’s jaw clenched. “Please, just give it back.”
She took a step closer, the teasing edge in her voice softening. “I’m not going to tell Mother, Ikkar. Relax. But you know... Being in love with a servant could be a problem.”
“I know,” Ikkar replied, finally taking the sketchbook from her hands. He set it on the table, face down. “I’m not in love with her. I just… like her face.”
Rya raised an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Sure. Just her face.” She shook her head, her playful smirk returning. “Listen, I get it. She’s pretty, sweet... But falling for a servant isn’t going to make your life any easier, brother. You know that, right?”
Ikkar sank into the chair by his desk, the weight of her words settling into his chest. He did know. He knew it better than anyone. His duty to the kingdom, the legacy of the Dragon King—it all pressed down on him like an iron hand. Princes didn’t get to choose who they were drawn to, not without consequences.
“I’m aware,” he said quietly. “It’s not like I’m planning anything. I never talked to her.”
Rya softened at the sight of her older brother, usually so confident, now subdued and conflicted. She moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Just be careful, brother. And if you need someone to talk to… well, I’m here."
A small smile tugged at his lips. “I know. Won't you ever leave."
Rya left the room with a final glance over her shoulder, and Ikkar felt the tension leave his body. But the relief was short-lived. He stared at the sketchbook, at the image he had drawn over and over in secret moments.
***
The next day, Ikkar wandered the palace grounds, his eyes searching for her without admitting to himself that he was doing so. He found her, as he often did, near the gardens where Kira loved to play. Talia sat on a blanket, weaving delicate flower crowns while Kira chattered animatedly, her small hands mimicking stories about knights and dragons.
Talia’s laugh was soft, the kind that made him feel like the sun was just a little warmer. She leaned in to correct Kira’s exaggerated tale, and the two of them burst into giggles. Ikkar stayed hidden behind the marble column, the scent of jasmine and roses filling the air around him.
He watched as Talia adjusted the crown on Kira’s head, her touch gentle and her smile full of affection. Kira’s face lit up as she paraded around, pretending to be queen. Talia clapped, playing along, and Ikkar felt a pang in his chest. The scene was so ordinary, so genuine, and he felt like an intruder witnessing it.
Kira noticed him first. “Ikkar!” she called out, her small voice ringing across the garden. She ran toward him, her little legs moving as fast as they could. He stepped out, catching her with a chuckle.
“Hello, little queen,” he teased, setting her down. He glanced up and met Talia’s eyes for the briefest moment. She looked surprised but quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing as she returned to her task.
Ikkar’s heart thumped unreasonably fast, a strange thrill running through him. He ruffled Kira’s hair and watched as she darted back to Talia, eagerly recounting how her big brother had called her ‘queen.’
Talia glanced up again, this time with a shy smile. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause. Ikkar nodded politely, masking the turmoil within him, and walked away before the moment could become more than just a shared glance.
But as he left, he felt Rya’s words echo in his mind. *Be careful.*
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