Riven was exhausted.
He had spent the past few hours drowning in court politics, biting back his usual sharp remarks, and forcing himself to tolerate a room full of nobles who either hated him or wished he would disappear entirely.
Now, all he wanted was a drink, a bed, and maybe the slight satisfaction of annoying Kael before passing out.
As he pushed open the door to the room he had left her in, he found her seated near the window, back straight, one leg crossed over the other. She looked like she hadn't moved in hours.
Her bow rested against the chair, but her fingers drummed idly against the armrest, her dark violet eyes fixed on something beyond the glass.
She didn't turn when he entered.
"You look deep in thought," Riven drawled, shutting the door behind him. "Should I be worried?"
Kael exhaled slowly. "Depends. Should I be worried about whatever mess you just crawled out of?"
Riven smirked, tossing his coat onto the bed. "Oh, you know. The usual. A council full of spineless nobles, my dear stepmother reminding me of my place, my charming half-brother trying to sound important. Just another day in Velmont Keep."
Kael hummed. "Sounds delightful."
"Absolutely riveting."
She finally turned to look at him, studying him carefully.
"Jorrik didn't come with you?" she asked.
Riven shook his head. "Had him take care of a few things at the palace. He'll join us later."
Kael nodded slightly, as if that answer had been expected.
Then, without warning—"I received a letter."
Riven raised an eyebrow, slipping into the chair across from her. "Do tell."
Kael pulled a small, crumpled parchment from her pocket and tossed it onto the table between them.
Riven leaned forward, unfolded it, and read the words silently.
His eyes flickered.
"Well," he murmured. "That's dramatic."
Kael rested her chin against her hand. "It's confirmation."
Riven glanced up.
She met his gaze, unblinking. "I already suspected my brother was alive. His name wasn't in that book I found in the underground city. This just means I was right."
Riven leaned back, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. "And yet, whoever sent this letter wanted you to know for certain."
"Which means someone knows where he is."
Riven exhaled through his nose. "Any idea who wrote it?"
Kael shook her head. "The ink was expensive. Whoever it was, they had access to noble resources."
Riven smirked. "Noble secrets, noble games. Welcome to my world."
Kael frowned slightly, as if considering something. Then, after a long pause, she spoke again.
"Speaking of your world…"
Riven arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Finally curious about me, are we?"
Kael ignored his teasing. "Why don't you have power?"
Riven blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're the firstborn prince of Velmont," Kael continued, voice calm but direct. "Your mother was the king's first wife. A wife he loved. So why aren't you the heir? Why does your stepmother hold more authority than you?"
The question shouldn't have caught him off guard.
But it did.
For a moment, Riven just studied her.
Her expression was carefully unreadable, but her eyes were sharp. She had been thinking about this for a while.
He exhaled, tilting his head. "You really want to know?"
Kael didn't blink. "I wouldn't have asked otherwise."
Riven let out a quiet chuckle.
Then, he told her.
---
A Story Buried in Ashes
"My father never meant to have another son," Riven said, voice oddly soft.
Kael didn't interrupt.
"It happened during one of his travels. A diplomatic mission, technically. He was far from Velmont, negotiating something about border disputes. But something went wrong."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"My father was drugged. Trapped in some sort of political setup." He let out a humorless laugh. "By the time he realized what had happened, it was already too late. My stepmother was pregnant."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly. "A calculated move."
Riven smirked. "Oh, absolutely. The perfect way to secure a noble house's influence."
Kael's fingers tightened around the armrest. "And your mother?"
Riven's smirk faded.
"She forgave him."
Kael looked mildly surprised. "Just like that?"
"She loved him," Riven murmured. "And she knew it wasn't his fault."
Kael remained silent for a moment, then asked, "Did he regret it?"
Riven exhaled. "Every day."
Kael leaned back slightly, digesting the information. "So if your father still loved your mother… why did he marry Evelyne?"
Riven's fingers drummed lightly against his knee.
"Because my mother was murdered."
Kael's jaw tensed.
Riven continued, his voice even. "She was killed when I was nine. Just before the Veyne family was wiped out."
Kael already knew this part, but hearing it from him—**hearing the slight shift in his voice, the memory laced with something sharp and unspoken—**felt different.
Riven let out a slow breath. "And after she died? The pressure started. The court demanded a new queen. My father tried to resist, but the nobles—they were relentless. And Evelyne's family? They were at the center of it all."
Kael understood.
A political marriage. A forced one.
Her fingers tapped against the wooden armrest.
"And that's when you lost your place as heir."
Riven nodded once. "My mother's family—her powerful noble house from Esmira—cut all ties with Velmont. They wanted nothing to do with this kingdom anymore. They wanted nothing to do with the court that had let her die."
Kael tilted her head slightly. "They didn't try to take you with them?"
Riven smirked faintly. "Oh, they did."
Kael arched an eyebrow.
"They told me to leave," Riven murmured. "Told me to abandon this place and come live with them in Esmira."
Kael studied him. "But you didn't go."
Riven met her gaze. "No. I didn't."
A beat of silence.
Then Kael spoke again.
"Why?"
Riven's smirk returned, but it was quieter this time.
"Because I wasn't done yet."
Kael held his gaze for a long moment.
Then, slowly—she nodded.
She understood.
Because she wasn't done either.