Chapter 53
The dream still clung to him like mist on a winter morning—faint, but stubborn. Hosea sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixed upon the far wall, though he saw nothing of it. His thoughts wandered back to the images that had stirred him from slumber. A battle ground filled with blood.A girl standing at the heart of it, cloaked in fire and sorrow. Her eyes had met his—not in fear, nor in defiance, but in knowing. Like she had seen through him.
Alissa.
He whispered her name beneath his breath.
His fingers curled against the bed's edge. He had long delayed what now pressed upon him with growing urgency. The girl who haunted the whispers of his kingdom, the girl promised to him since birth—he had never seen her, not truly. But dreams rarely lied to him. Not his.
The gods never sent their omens for sport, he didn't believe in them, but this was too much to ignore.
A knock at the door pulled him from thought.
He turned just as the door opened and in stepped Esmeralda, her gown trailing behind her like a serpent's tail. And just before her, Raymar—his little brother—ran forward with delight and flung himself into Hosea's arms.
"Brother!" the boy cried, his voice bright with affection.
Hosea smiled, catching the child with ease. "Raymar," he murmured, his voice softening as he embraced him.
Esmeralda entered behind, her lips painted in a smile that never reached her eyes. She carried herself like a queen, though the crown had never truly been hers. Her gaze moved about the chamber, taking in every corner, every detail—disguised as idle curiosity, but Hosea saw through it all.
Looking up from Raymar, Hosea met her eyes. "What brings you here today, my lady?" he asked, his tone light, but the mockery threaded beneath was sharp.
Esmeralda waved a graceful hand as if to brush away the air between them. "Oh, come now," she said sweetly, stepping deeper into the chamber. "Must I have a reason to visit? I am your stepmother, am I not? Surely, I am allowed to check on your well-being."
Her eyes were moving again, ever watching.
Hosea chuckled, the sound dry. "And I thank you for your... maternal concern."
"I came to bring Raymar," she added with a smile too poised to be sincere.
Hosea raised a brow as he looked down at the boy still clinging to him. "Did the poor child forget how to walk from his chamber to mine? Or did the journey seem perilous today?" he asked, brushing a curl from Raymar's brow.
Esmeralda's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, then returned, strained at the edges. "He wanted to see you. And I saw no harm in accompanying him."
"Of course," Hosea said, setting the boy gently beside him on the bed. He stood slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "You may take your leave now, Your Highness."
The final word was spoken with a cold civility that sent a twitch to the corner of her mouth.
She turned, gathering her skirt with elegance, though her eyes continued their quiet inspection. She did not speak again as she crossed the threshold.
Hosea watched her go.
Only when the door shut behind her did he let his expression harden.
"She never comes without reason," he muttered under his breath.
Raymar looked up. "Will you play with me now, brother?"
Hosea softened once more. "In a moment," he said, ruffling the boy's hair.
But his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere—back to the dream, to the forest, and to the girl with the fire in her eyes.
Yes.
It was time he met this Alissa. Not as a name whispered through palace walls, not as a ghost in a vision—but face to face. Let the gods bear witness.
The game had long begun.
Now it was his move.
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The morning sun spilled gold across the marble floor, but Alistair felt no warmth in it. He stood on the balcony of his chamber, silent and still as stone, gazing at the courtyard below. The soft breeze stirred his hair, yet his eyes remained fixed—watching.
There they were.
Elias and Caven, walking side by side through the garden path. Caven said something that drew laughter from Elias—light, genuine laughter that cut through Alistair like a blade. His hand upon the stone rail tightened, knuckles paling.
The image of the night before rose unbidden in his mind. Elias in Caven's arms. The kiss. The touch. The way Elias had not turned away.
His heart clenched.
The two men paused, then parted with a nod. Elias turned to go, and Alistair's eyes followed him until he vanished from view. A quiet ache settled in his chest, sharp and unrelenting.
Behind him, the chamber stirred.
"Caelen said you did not come to him last night," came Jasmine's soft voice.
He turned slowly. She stood near the bed, wrapped in her robe, hair still slightly tousled with sleep. Alistair lowered himself into the chair near the window, his gaze cast low.
"I did," he said quietly. "I just... did not wake him."
Jasmine moved closer and sat beside him. "I know when you are lying, Alistair."
Her hand found his, warm and steady. He stared at their joined hands before lifting his gaze to meet hers.
"We are beyond mere partners," she said. "You can speak freely with me."
His throat tightened. The words trembled on his tongue before he could hold them back. "I went to see Elias," he murmured. "But... he was with someone else l."
A breath shuddered out of him, and he leaned his head upon her shoulder, the pain he'd hidden all night finally breaking through. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice heavy with guilt.
"I am the one who is sorry," Jasmine said softly, her fingers brushing through his hair. "You gave up everything—for me, for Caelen. And I see it, Alistair. I have always seen it."
She pressed a kiss to his brow, lingering there as if she could soothe the ache within him.
"I would not stop you, should you wish to return to him," she said gently. "I knew what I was agreeing to when I accepted this marriage."
He lifted his head and looked at her, eyes red with unshed tears. "You deserve a better man."
A quiet laugh left her lips, warm and bittersweet. "But I want you," she replied, cupping his face. Their foreheads rested together, a moment of stillness in the storm. She reached up and wiped a tear that had traced down his cheek.
Long moments passed between them in silence, until Alistair spoke again, his voice raw.
"I do not deserve either of you," he said. "I have lost Elias... I will not lose you too."
He pulled her into an embrace, his arms clinging to her with quiet desperation. Jasmine said nothing, only held him in return.
----
The room was silent save for the soft crackle of a dying fire. Prince Hosea stood by the tall window, the chill of early dusk creeping along the stone floor. The hush was broken only when the shadows near the wall moved, and a cloaked figure emerged without sound.
The prince didn't turn. "Speak."
The shadow bowed slightly, remaining still. "The council has reached a decision, my prince. A competition is to be held. Noble daughters from across the kingdoms will be summoned to the palace… the winner, to become your bride."
Hosea's face was unreadable.
"They've not yet made it public," the shadow continued. "Only whispers among the high lords. But it is decided. One name has already been spoken above the rest—Alissa of Valla."
There was a pause.
"She will come."
At that, Hosea shifted slightly, eyes narrowing as he stared into the twilight beyond the glass. The silence stretched.
Alissa of Valla…
He had never met her, but the name had lingered in his thoughts ever since that strange dream. She had stood in that vision like a flame refusing to die, her voice echoing through woods not of this world. Now, she would be here—within reach.
He did not speak his thoughts aloud.
It seems I need not seek her… she is being brought to me.
He turned slowly from the window, walking to the table where a scroll lay unopened. His fingers brushed its edge, idle, thoughtful.
A bride. A crown. A throne beside him. He could already hear what they would say—nobles murmuring of love blooming between them, of fate and beauty and union. He could see the painted smiles, the hopeful looks, the feigned joy.
But he knew better.
He felt nothing.
There was no longing in him. No ache for her hand.
But still, he would wed her if he must.
Not for love. Not for courtly dreams.
But because he must find Hera. And something in him knew—Alissa held a piece of that path. Perhaps not knowingly… perhaps not willingly… but she was tied to the answer. His sister's fate clung to the threads of this girl's.
The guard bowed and vanished once more, leaving Hosea alone in the growing dark.
He returned to the window, staring into the deepening dusk.
-----
The gardens were quiet that morning, veiled in a mist that softened the edges of stone and bloom alike. Elias had hoped for such silence—had chosen the hour for that very reason. Yet fate, as ever, had other plans.
Elias didn't mean to run into her—not there, not then. He had taken the quiet path behind the stables, hoping to avoid most of the court's eyes. But Jasmine stood near the edge of the garden, her hand resting lightly on her rounded belly, speaking with a servant who soon excused herself.
She turned the moment she sensed him. "Elias," she said, not with surprise—almost as if she had been expecting him.
He hesitated. Then offered a short nod. "My lady."
"You were going to turn away, weren't you?" she asked, her tone even.
"I thought it best not to intrude."
Jasmine smiled faintly, the kind that never reached her eyes. "Alistair told me long ago. I am not the sort of woman easily fooled."
Elias said nothing.
She took a step closer. "I used to admire you," she said, voice steady. "There was something reckless in you. A wild certainty. Like you'd burn the world down just to have him. That kind of fire... it was dangerous, but it made sense to me."
He met her eyes then, searching for scorn. But there was none.
"I thought marrying into royalty would come with concubines," she continued. "I prepared myself for that. I just didn't think it would be a man."
Still, there was no bitterness in her voice. Only cold understanding.
"I don't fault you," she went on. "But I see things clearly now. Alistair is too righteous. Like his father. Hiding you, pretending nothing exists outside duty—men like that make noble kings, but not great ones."
Elias blinked.
"I want Valla to rise," she said, plainly. "To be more than a forgotten name among greater kingdoms. Alistair could make that happen. But not if he's torn between what he feels and what he thinks he must be."
Elias looked away, jaw tight. "Maybe I changed because I realized I could never have all of him. And I was only hurting us both."
She nodded slowly. "That's wisdom, then."
He inclined his head, about to take his leave.
But as he turned, her voice stopped him.
"They say you've found another."
He froze, then turned, lips parting to speak—but Caven's voice cut in as he approached.
"My lady."
Jasmine shifted her gaze to him and gave a cool, polite smile. "Sir Caven."
She gently rubbed her belly, then turned and walked away, her posture poised, her silence deliberate.
Elias watched her go.
Caven stepped beside him, eyes narrowed. "What happened?"
Elias didn't answer. He only walked on, his thoughts already far from the garden. Caven followed, his presence quiet but close behind.