The rhythmic thud of hooves filled the training grounds as Prince Henry urged his new black mare into a controlled trot. His posture was upright but tense, his gloved hands adjusting the reins with practiced care. Around him, trainers watched in silence, occasionally offering corrections he ignored more often than not. This was a morning routine meant to ground him after his weekend trip to the hills—a brief escape from palace life that already felt distant.
The gate creaked open, drawing Henry's attention. His older brother, Crown Prince Leo, stepped into the training park, his stride as confident as ever. He wasn't dressed for riding—his tailored coat and polished boots looked better suited for a royal council meeting—but somehow, that made him appear even more commanding.
Without acknowledging the trainers or glancing at the available gear, Leo approached one of the horses tethered nearby, a sleek chestnut stallion. His movements were effortless, and in one fluid motion, he was on horseback. No instructions, no adjustments—just natural, unspoken authority.
Henry watched him from the corner of his eye, masking his irritation behind a neutral expression. As Leo guided his horse toward him, Henry adjusted his own reins slightly, mirroring the subtle way his brother's hands moved. It wasn't obvious, but it was there—the quiet observation, the unspoken acknowledgment that Leo had mastered something Henry was still trying to perfect.
"Enjoying yourself, little brother?" Leo called out as he closed the distance between them, his tone laced with casual superiority.
Henry smirked, his grip tightening on the reins. "Trying to. Though I suppose I should have known my peace wouldn't last."
Leo chuckled softly, falling into step beside him. The two horses began a slow, synchronized walk across the sprawling garden.
"So," Leo began, his voice conversational but edged with mockery, "how was your grand adventure? A weekend away from responsibility. Must have been thrilling." He paused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Though I imagine the real excitement was leaving your wife behind."
Henry's jaw tensed, but he didn't miss a beat. "It was liberating, I'll admit. But I suppose that's the luxury of having a capable partner. She can manage perfectly well without me hovering."
Leo's expression remained calm, though the flicker of irritation was unmistakable. "How fortunate for you," he said evenly. "Though one wonders if she feels the same about being married to someone so…free-spirited."
Henry met his brother's gaze, his tone turning sharp. "Better free-spirited than shackled by self-imposed obligations. But I wouldn't expect you to understand the concept of balance."
Leo's lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "No, I suppose not."
The brothers continued riding, their conversation shifting to kingdom affairs. Leo spoke of political developments, the state of the palace in Henry's absence, and the unrelenting demands of their father. Henry listened, nodding occasionally, but his focus kept drifting. He studied the way Leo handled his horse—how he barely seemed to think about it, how every movement felt natural. Henry adjusted his posture again, silently correcting himself to match his brother's stance.
"And Sebastian?" Henry asked eventually, steering the conversation toward their younger sibling.
Leo's sigh was audible, his grip on the reins tightening slightly. "What about him? He's as impossible as ever."
Henry raised a brow. "What did he do this time?"
"What didn't he do?" Leo shot back, his voice tinged with exasperation. "The boy is a nightmare. And when you left, he took it upon himself to create more drama. But this time…" He hesitated, his expression darkening.
Henry frowned, leaning forward slightly. "This time what?"
******************
The door to Sebastian's chambers flew open without ceremony, slamming against the wall. He stopped pacing immediately, his dark eyes snapping to the intruder.
"Florence," he growled, his voice low and sharp, "do you lack the ability to knock?"
Florence ignored his reprimand, marching inside with a determined scowl. "What were you thinking, huh?" she demanded, stepping closer. "Father just told everyone about your… your decision. Do you have any idea what kind of disaster you're dragging us into?"
He exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms.
In a voice calm but cutting, he said, "Don't you remember, Florence? You were the one who told me I could pick any girl from that gala. She was invited, same as the others. If she was deemed worthy enough to attend, it shouldn't matter if she's a princess or not."
Florence blinked, momentarily taken aback. "It does matter," she said, her voice rising. "You can't marry anyone, Sebastian. Don't twist my words!"
She took a step closer, her frustration mounting. "Listen, I know I said you could choose anyone. But are you blind? She doesn't match our standards, Sebastian! She—"
"Enough," Sebastian interrupted, holding up a hand as he turned and walked toward his bed.
He sat down in the middle, leaning back slightly with his hands resting on his thighs. His deep voice was calm but firm as he said, "I think you're underestimating her."
Florence gaped at him, struggling to find words. "Underestimating her? Sebastian, she's—" She stopped, realizing the depth of his words. She knew her brother well enough to understand what he meant. Taking a few steps back in shock, she whispered, "Sebastian…"
Her voice was softer now, but the weight of her realization hit her hard. She knew Sebastian didn't take interest in females or weddings. This wasn't what everyone thought it was.
"What is her name?"
The question hung in the air like a storm about to break. Sebastian's shoulders stiffened, his eyes flicking away from Florence's pleading gaze. He knew she already understood more than she let on.
"You'll find out," he muttered, his voice low, guarded.
"Find out?" Florence stepped closer, her tone sharp but trembling at the edges. "Sebastian, stop this. You know I'm the only one who will stand by you. If this matters, if she matters, you need to tell me. What's her name? Please."
Sebastian stood abruptly, his towering form casting a shadow over his sister. "You're right about one thing," he said coldly. "You're the only one who will stand by me. But that doesn't mean I owe you every detail, Florence. Not yet."
Florence's fists clenched at her sides. "And yet you're planning to visit her again, aren't you? Even knowing how Father, how everyone in this palace, feels about it?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "I am."
Her face twisted in fury. "You're insane," she spat. "You're willing to risk everything—for her?"
"Yes," he said simply, his voice unshaken. "Because for once, I'm doing something for myself. And if that makes me insane, so be it."
Florence stared at him, a war of emotions raging in her eyes.
For the first time, she wasn't sure if she admired her brother's defiance or feared the consequences of it. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out, the slam of the door echoing through the chamber like a final warning.
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