Chapter CLXXII: His brother’s second

Ikkar entered the royal office, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. His father, King Alaric, sat at his imposing desk, his expression a blend of sternness and barely contained frustration. Beside him, Queen Isabella stood with her arms crossed, a rare look of disappointment on her face. Zayr leaned against the far wall, his usual smirk absent, replaced with quiet observation.  

“What is happening?” Ikkar asked, his tone cautious as his gaze shifted between them.  

His father’s voice boomed. “What did you do to Princess Alina?”  

Ikkar stiffened. “I didn’t do anything to her.”  

“*Why* did you reject her?” Isabella interjected, her voice sharp but not unkind. “You’ve just met her! You don’t even know her to dismiss her so abruptly.”  

Ikkar straightened his back, summoning courage. “Because I do not wish to marry her.”  

Alaric slammed a hand on the desk, making Zayr flinch slightly. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Your brother found her crying in the hallways, humiliated! She’s a guest, Ikkar. A princess. And you have insulted her.” 

“I said nothing inappropriate,” Ikkar said firmly. “I only told her the truth. I don’t want to marry her.”  

Isabella stepped forward, her eyes pleading rather than angry. “Why? Ikkar, why would you break her heart like this?”  

Ikkar hesitated, the words catching in his throat. But then, as if from nowhere, he found the courage to say what he’d been holding inside for years. “Because I love another.”  

The room fell into stunned silence. Zayr’s eyebrows shot up, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. Isabella’s lips parted as she stared at her eldest son, her composure faltering. Only Alaric seemed unsurprised, his narrowed eyes fixed on Ikkar like a hawk ready to strike.  

“You’re acting like a child,” Alaric said coldly.  

“I’m sorry, Father,” Ikkar replied, his voice steady but defiant. “But I won’t give up on her.”  

Isabella, her shock giving way to frustration, demanded, “Who is this girl?” 

Ikkar hesitated again, knowing the storm his answer would bring. But he owed them the truth. “Talia.”

“Talia?” Isabella’s brow furrowed. “My handmaiden?”

“Yes,” Ikkar said simply, his chin lifted with quiet determination. “She is the only woman I wish to marry. Entertaining someone else is pointless.” 

Isabella stared at him, caught between disbelief and outrage. “But… she’s a servant.”  

Alaric’s voice cut through the tension. “You’ve had *years* to get over this foolishness, Ikkar. And yet here we are.” 

“It’s not foolishness,” Ikkar said, his tone sharp. “You of all people should understand what I’m talking about.” 

Alaric’s expression darkened, but Ikkar didn’t wait for a response. He turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.  

The silence that followed was deafening. Isabella placed a hand on her forehead, exhaling shakily. “What are we going to do?”  

Alaric turned his piercing gaze to Zayr, who still stood by the wall, watching everything unfold with an unreadable expression.  

“You need to fix this,” Alaric said.

“Sure…” Zayr’s lips twitched into a bitter smile. “Isn’t that my whole purpose in life, Father? To live off the scraps of everything my brother doesn’t want?”  

Before Alaric could respond, Zayr pushed off the wall and left the room, his steps deliberate but heavy. 

***

Rya strolled through the courtyard, the warm sunlight glinting off the polished stones beneath her feet. Her dark hair swayed in the breeze as she idly observed the knights training in the distance. A flash of red caught her eye, and her gaze settled on a tall, striking figure wearing the distinctive crimson cloak of the Fire Army's elite rank.  

The man was young, likely not even thirty, his features sharp and noble, with a proud bearing that spoke of both confidence and discipline. His armor gleamed, and the sword at his side was sheathed with a practiced ease. There was an air of distinction about him that set him apart from the other knights.  

Curious, Rya turned to one of the ladies accompanying her. "Who is that knight over there? The one with the red cloak."  

The woman glanced over and smiled knowingly. "That’s Sir Ian Kastal, Your Highness. The youngest son of the Baron of Kastal. He’s been making quite a name for himself lately."  

Rya’s interest deepened. "Oh? And why is that?"  

"It’s said he saved General Hymek’s life during the skirmish in Allendor. Quite the act of bravery, from what I hear. The Prince of Rosehall is even rumored to be a great friend of his."  

Rya’s lips curved into a sly smile. Sir Ian Kastal. Handsome, noble, brave, and already a man of renown—he possessed all the qualities she admired in a man.  

Her eyes lingered on him as he spoke with another knight, his laugh carrying across the courtyard. He seemed utterly unaware of her gaze, which only made him all the more appealing.  

"Perfect," she murmured to herself.  

He was the ideal candidate. Rya had been growing bored lately, and a knight of his caliber would make an excellent conquest. Sir Ian Kastal might not know it yet, but he had just become her next target.

***

Talia walked through the quiet halls of the palace, her heart weighed down by an inexplicable melancholy. Earlier, she had seen Prince Ikkar strolling in the gardens with Princess Alina. They made a striking pair—his dark, commanding presence beside her delicate beauty. It wasn’t the first time Talia had imagined this moment, knowing one day Ikkar would walk alongside another, a woman worthy of his title. Yet seeing it unfold was far more painful than she had prepared herself for.  

Alina was everything a future queen should be—graceful, radiant, and born into a station that matched Ikkar’s. Talia swallowed hard and told herself this was for the best. It was time to face reality, to let go of the quiet, impossible dreams that had haunted her for years.  

She reached Princess Amara’s chambers to pick up the gown for dinner, her mind clouded with thoughts, when she abruptly collided with someone in the hallway. She stumbled back slightly, startled, and looked up to find Ikkar standing before her.  

“Talia,” he said breathlessly, his expression tense. “I’ve been looking for you.”  

Her heart skipped at his urgency, but she kept her tone neutral. “Why?”  

“I told them,” he said, his voice firm.  

Talia blinked, confused. “Told who? Told them what?”  

“My parents,” Ikkar clarified, his jaw tight with determination. “I told them about us.”  

The weight of his words hit her like a blow, and her heart began to race. She stared at him in shock, unable to form a coherent response.  

“Told them about us?” she finally managed, her voice trembling. “Ikkar, what did you say?”  

“Everything,” he said, his gaze steady on hers. “That I love you. That I won’t marry anyone else.”  

Talia’s knees felt weak. Panic surged through her as her thoughts raced to the queen, to the king, to the rumors this would ignite. “Ikkar, do you even realize what you’ve done?”  

“I know exactly what I’ve done,” he said, stepping closer to her, his voice softening. “And now I need to keep you safe until I can convince them to give us their blessing.”  

“Safe?” she echoed, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”  

“I’m going to arrange for you to leave the palace,” he explained, his tone urgent. “Just for a little while. I’ll send you to Dragonspire, where you’ll be protected. Once I convince my parents, you can come back, and we can be together.”  

Talia shook her head, disbelief and fear crashing over her. “This is insane, Ikkar! Do you even hear yourself? You’re talking about hiding me like—like I’m some sort of criminal!”  

Ikkar reached for her, his hands trembling as they cupped her face. His voice was low and pleading. “Talia, please. You have to trust me. I know this seems impossible, but I will fix this. I’ll make them understand.”  

Before she could protest further, he kissed her. It wasn’t the soft, hesitant kiss of their first moment years ago. This kiss was desperate, filled with fear, love, and defiance. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers.  

“I’ll make the arrangements for tomorrow,” he murmured. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”  

Talia’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She felt like she was falling, caught between the warmth of his devotion and the icy grip of reality.  

All she could do was nod, her lips parting but no words coming out. Confused, scared, and overwhelmed, she watched him leave the hallway, his determination unwavering.  

And as she stood there, alone, the weight of what had just happened settled on her shoulders. Everything was changing, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for what was to come.