[ ☆ ]
The recovery period at the palace had turned into a strange, rhythmic war of attrition. The air in the royal wing was no longer thick with the aggressive "Sigma" scent of Kenzo's initial flare, as the young boy had finally learned to pull his pheromones back under Arion's stern guidance. Yet, the damage was already done. The biological link between the twins was stuck in a loop; even without the fresh scent, Calix's fever refused to break.
Calix was exhausted. His body, struggling to process the premature hormonal shift while trapped in a female form, had essentially gone into hibernation. He didn't feel the "burn" of a typical fever anymore; instead, he felt a heavy, blissful lethargy.
Arion found him everywhere. At ten in the morning, Calix would be found curled into a small ball on the velvet sofa in the tea room. By noon, he'd be tucked under a blooming lilac bush in the garden, his silver hair shimmering in the light. Even in the "Parents Only" study—a room strictly off-limits to the children—Arion would open the door to find Calix fast asleep on the rug, sometimes in his human form and sometimes as a tiny, snoring white tiger cub.
The maids of the castle were completely captivated. They would tiptoe past him, their hearts melting at the sight of his peaceful face. They left small silk pillows near him and draped light cashmere blankets over his shoulders, whispering about how he looked like a fallen star. To the staff, Calix wasn't just a Prince; he was the palace's most precious, fragile treasure.
Kyon knew that as long as Kenzo had an ounce of energy, he would spend it hovering over Calix, inadvertently keeping the boy's system on high alert. To save Calix, Kyon decided to break Kenzo.
"Gear up, pup," Kyon said one morning, tossing a heavy wooden training sword at his ten-year-old son's feet.
"I need to stay with Calix," Kenzo growled, his eyes fixed on the door to the infirmary. He was stubborn, his jaw set in a line that mirrored his father's.
"You need to learn that a guard who can't control his own heart is useless," Kyon countered. He didn't wait for Kenzo to agree. He lunged.
The next three days were a brutal display of "tough love." Kyon used his decades of experience to push Kenzo to his absolute physical limit. They fought in the courtyard from dawn until the moon was high. Kyon wore his full training gear, his wooden sword a blur of motion as he forced Kenzo to move, to sweat, and to burn off every drop of excess Alpha energy.
Every time Kenzo tried to run back to Calix, Kyon would trip him or pin him down. "Too slow, Kenzo! If you're this slow, you can't protect anyone. Fight me!"
Kyon was mocking him, laughing as Kenzo panted for breath. But it was a calculated cruelty. He wanted Kenzo so exhausted that he didn't have the strength to release a single pheromone at night. By the third evening, Kenzo was so spent he could barely lift a spoon. At night, he still crawled into bed for the customary back-hug, but he fell into a dreamless sleep instantly, his body finally silent. Because of this, Calix's fever finally began to dip for the first time in a week.
Back at the Senior Academy, the crisis with Asher's heat was being handled with far less grace. Aiden had managed to get Asher into a private quarantine room, forcing a high-grade suppressant down his throat.
Asher, draped in Aiden's oversized cadet coat, was currently in the "delirious" stage of recovery.
"You think you're so great," Asher mumbled, his face flushed as he leaned against the wall. "Just because you carried me. I could have walked. I was just... testing the floor. The floor is very soft today, Aiden . Did you buy a new floor?"
"Shut up, Asher," Aiden muttered, sitting in a chair by the door, keeping watch. "The suppressant is working. Just sleep it off. If you were a one hundred percent omega it'll be worse."
"I'm going to challenge you to a duel," Asher continued, his voice trailing off into nonsense. "I'm going to win, and then I'm going to make you wear a maid's outfit and serve me tea in the middle of the training grounds. You'll look terrible in lace."
Aiden sighed, rubbing his temples. Dealing with an arrogant Alpha in heat was significantly more annoying than fighting a mountain troll.
The silence of the room was broken by a messenger from the palace. He brought a stack of official documents, but one stood out. It bore the heavy gold seal of the Southern Isles—the Queen's personal mark.
Aiden opened it, expecting another political demand. Instead, his heart dropped into his stomach.
"The Crown of the South is pleased to announce the formal engagement of Prince Lorcan to the Lady Genevieve of the Eastern Marches. The union shall take place upon the Prince's eighteenth birthday..."
Aiden stared at the parchment. The words blurred. Lorcan. HisLorcan. Getting engaged.
He had known the six-year separation was a gamble, but he had always felt the bond—the heartbeat in the wind. To see it written in cold, formal ink felt like a betrayal he hadn't prepared for. He felt a hollow, aching disappointment that burned worse than any sparring wound.
He stood up, his movements robotic. He walked over to the bed where Asher was still talking nonsense about "shaving Aiden's eyebrows."
Without a word, Aiden sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Asher into a sudden, tight hug. He didn't do it because he was sad, or because he felt anything for Asher in that moment. He did it because he felt nothing. He wanted to feel the heat of another person, the friction of life, to drown out the cold realization that Lorcan was slipping away.
Asher froze, his eyes widening. He glared at Aiden, his face turning red. "What—what are you doing? Get off! I'm still in heat, you idiot! Are you trying to kill me with your smell? You're so annoying! Let go! I'm going to tell everyone you're a hugger!"
Asher's constant, sharp-tongued rambling was the only thing keeping Aiden grounded. He didn't let go for a long minute, ignoring Asher's insults and glares.
"You talk too much," Aiden whispered, finally pulling away.
He stood up and walked to the window, looking South. The final year was coming. Aiden's disappointment was deep, but beneath it, a new flame was flickering—one of cold, Northern resolve.
If the South wanted to give Lorcan away, they would have to do it over Aiden's dead body. ' The time for waiting is over' Aiden thought, clenching his fist tightly.