Chapter CLXXIX: Loose ends

Zayr had been raised with one purpose: to be his brother’s second, his right hand, his closest confidant, and his most trusted advisor. It was a role he embraced with great honor, for he and Ikkar had always been inseparable. From the time they were boys, Zayr admired his elder brother—not just for his position as crown prince but for the quiet strength and responsibility that seemed to define him.

Unlike Zayr and Rya, who shared an untamed spirit and a special taste for trouble, Ikkar was always the responsible one. Not as serious or rigid as Kai, but steady and composed, a pillar of strength who balanced the chaos of their youth. He took his role as heir seriously, even as he indulged their antics and protected them from their father’s wrath.

But that all changed when Ikkar fell in love with Talia.

Zayr had watched it happen—watched his brother fall madly in love with a servant girl who, in their world, could never be more than a mistress. They had grown up being taught the gravity of their positions, the importance of marriage as a tool for alliances, and the sacred responsibility of their station. Their parents had all but forbidden the practice of concubinage, setting a standard that their children were expected to uphold.

Like most princes, they had their fun with girls from the village, fleeting moments of freedom before settling into the confines of a politically advantageous marriage. Zayr had always accepted this as the way of things. For years, he thought Ikkar had as well.

Zayr had agreed to marry Princess Alina without hesitation. The alliance with Theran was too crucial to jeopardize, especially with shifting loyalties in the wake of the empire’s collapse. His mother’s ancestral ties to Theran’s ruling house could only hold so much weight; the marriage was a necessary reinforcement. Zayr understood the politics, the long-term vision required to safeguard their kingdom.

He thought Ikkar understood it too.

But love had made his brother blind—recklessly so. Ikkar, who had always been the steady one, the dutiful prince, was risking everything for a dream that could never be. It wasn’t just madness; it was dangerous. The murmurs around court were already growing louder, and their father’s patience was waning.

Zayr promised himself he would remain unwavering in his mission. His loyalty to Ikkar would not falter, even as his brother strayed from his duty. If Ikkar couldn’t be the rock their family needed, then Zayr would step in to steady him, no matter the cost.

For that was his role, and Zayr would see it through.

Zayr made his way through the quiet village streets, his hooded cape shielding him from curious eyes. The townhouse was familiar, tucked discreetly among the modest homes, its shutters painted a soft blue. He climbed the creaking wooden stairs, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had come to do.

On the top floor, Lys was tending to a small collection of flowers by the window. The late afternoon light caught her chestnut hair, giving it a golden sheen. She turned and saw him, her face lighting up with a radiant smile.

"Zayr!" she said, rushing to embrace him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, but he didn’t return the gesture. His hands rested awkwardly at his sides.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her blue eyes searching his face. “You haven’t visited me in so long. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t come back.”

He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle but hesitant. “Lys... you’ve probably heard the news already.”

Her smile faltered, replaced by a shadow of sadness. “Yes,” she said softly. “I heard. You’re getting married.”

He nodded, his gaze heavy. “You understand what that means, don’t you? I won’t be able to visit you anymore.”

Lys swallowed hard, the words hitting her like a blow. “Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Do you love her? That princess from Theran?”

“That’s not the point,” Zayr said carefully. “The point is that I’ll be committed to another woman. I can’t keep coming here.”

She forced a small, bittersweet smile. “You’re a dragon prince. You could have a mistress. Even two…”

Zayr shook his head. “Yes, but I don’t want to.”

Her composure cracked. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back tears. “So this is it?” she asked, her voice breaking despite her efforts to stay calm. “This is the end?”

“I’m sorry, Lys,” he said, his voice thick with regret.

Her tears finally spilled over. She turned away, but her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. “I don’t want to go back,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“Where?” he asked gently.

“To the brothel,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “To that life. I always knew this would end one day, but I wasn’t ready for it to be now.”

Zayr’s chest tightened. He reached out to steady her. “You won’t have to go back,” he promised. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You can settle somewhere else, somewhere better.”

Lys turned to face him, her eyes glistening with a mix of anger and sorrow. “Why should I have to leave?”

Zayr sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It would give you a better chance to escape your past... and it would be more respectful to my future wife if my former mistress didn’t live so close to the palace.”

Her expression hardened, and she scoffed bitterly. “So this is about respect? Are you planning to get rid of every girl you’ve ever bedded in this village too?”

“You’re the only one I ever had something serious with,” he admitted.

Her lips trembled as she fought to maintain her composure. “When you took me out of the brothel, I thought I’d been given a second chance. I thought how lucky I was—a girl like me, catching the attention of a prince. But I guess girls like me aren’t supposed to be lucky for too long, are we?”

Zayr felt his heart tighten with every word he said. He cared for Lys more than he could ever admit, even to himself. She had been a secret he guarded fiercely—hidden from his mother and father, from the prying eyes of court, from the expectations placed on him as a prince. But she wasn’t a secret he wanted to keep from his wife.

If life were different, if duty didn’t weigh so heavily on him, he might have dared to dream of a life with her. For all her past, he didn’t care—he never had. Lys was more than her history, more than the circumstances that had once defined her. He knew he would have made her his concubine, or even married her if such a path were even remotely possible.

But he couldn’t entertain the notion, not even in his quietest, most desperate moments. He didn’t love Alina, but he owed her respect, just as he owed respect to the union their families were forging. His childhood had been filled with whispered tales of his father’s old harem, his grandfather's time had been even worse. Zayr had grown up acutely aware of the cost of unfaithfulness, even the perception of it. His mother rarely spoke of those days in the harem, but he knew she had suffered more than she let on. She had borne the weight of love’s betrayal, and it had nearly torn their kingdom and their family apart with a bloody, cruel war. He wouldn’t risk a scandal—not for Lys, not for anyone. Despite not being in love with her, Alina didn’t deserve a marriage haunted by the shadow of another woman.

Saying goodbye to Lys wasn’t easy. Every tear that fell from her eyes carved deeper wounds into his resolve. But he knew it was the right thing to do, even if it felt like a betrayal of his heart. As he walked away from her, he couldn’t shake the ache in his chest, the silent plea from a part of himself that wanted to turn back, to choose her despite everything.

But Zayr wasn’t just a man—he was a prince. And a prince didn’t get to choose.

“It’s not easy to say goodbye,” he said quietly. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

Lys stared at him, her tears flowing freely now. “I’ll miss you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I’ll miss you too,” Zayr replied. He kissed her forehead tenderly, brushing a few stray tears from her cheeks.

And then, with one last lingering look, he turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the stairs and out into the fading light of day.