Cedric gave an exaggerated bow, already halfway to the door. “Of course, Your Royal Verbosity.”
He hadn’t even opened the door when someone else stormed in without knocking.
Small footsteps. No guards.
A boy, no more than ten, strode into the room with the solemnity of a parade. Pale skin, tousled warm brown hair, wide blue eyes. Evelyne’s eyes. The likeness hit hard and fast.
The boy stopped in the middle of the chamber, spine straight, expression grave. “Prince Alaric of Varantia?”
Alaric straightened. “At your service.”
“I’m Prince Thalen Tresselyn,” the boy declared, planting his boots like they might sprout into roots. “Future King of Edrathen.”
Alaric bit back a grin and crouched to meet the boy’s height. “Well then. An honor, Your Highness.”
Thalen’s chin lifted. “I’ve come to introduce myself officially. I should know my sister’s husband.”
Cedric, still near the threshold, stood frozen like a man hoping the boy’s vision was movement-based. Children were unpredictable creatures. Especially royal ones.
“And what would you like to know?” Alaric asked.
Thalen frowned in thought. “If you’re going to protect her.”
“Oh,” Alaric’s smile faded into something softer. “Yes, absolutely.”
The boy studied him like an old general assessing a new recruit. Then, satisfied, he gave a sharp nod. “Good. Because I’ll be king someday, and I’ll remember.”
“Understood.”
Another nod, this one smugger. “Also, I brought you a map. It’s my favorite one of Edrathen. It’s drawn by me, so it’s more accurate.”
Alaric blinked. “You brought me a map.”
“Kings need maps,” Thalen explained, as if this were obvious.
Alaric took it with a kind of reverence he hadn’t expected. The parchment was slightly wrinkled, drawn in a child’s careful hand over the original lines. Extra flourishes marked “Here Be Wolves” and “Secret Tunnel” in smudged charcoal.
Alaric studied him for a moment. The boy was absurdly young to carry such a purpose in his spine and yet, there was somethingdisarmingly sincere about the way he spoke. Honest. Curious. Utterly unvarnished.
“Thank you for the map, I'll keep it safe.” Alaric gave the boy a half-smile. “So, Prince Thalen. What can you tell me regarding your sister?”
Thalen tilted his head. “She’s smarter than everyone else. Except maybe Father. She doesn’t like carrots, loud voices, or being interrupted when she reads. Also, she’s sad sometimes, but never when she thinks I’m watching.”
Alaric froze for a heartbeat. No clever retort came to him. He looked up at Cedric who merely shrugged.
Thalen continued. “She gets stomach aches. And she reads the same stories over and over—usually the ones where the queens end up doing the rescuing.”
“High standards.”
Thalen studied him with the kind of scrutiny that only a ten-year-old on a mission could manage. “Do you like horses?”
“Very much.”
“Swords?”
“Swords too.”
Thalen’s eyes lit up. “Will you teach me?”
