The two brothers faced each other, and the tension in Ziven's study was evident. The look on Ziven's face did not mirror the one on Kaive's. Where Ziven radiated barely restrained anger, Kaive looked calm, and cold, even as though he refused to be dragged into another pointless argument.
Kaive's expression made it clear he had no desire to start yet another round of banter with his brother. His jaw was relaxed, and his posture steady, his golden eyes unreadable. But Ziven's face… that was a storm. His brows were drawn tight, his lips pressed into a harsh line.
Anger simmered beneath his skin, the kind that came from a deeper place than simple annoyance. He was upset, furious, and undeniably disappointed.
Disappointed that Kaive… his own brother, his equal in rank and blood, would dare choose an outsider to assist him with something as important as the Grand Trine Festival. A sacred celebration, one that had always been handled with care, tradition, and strict propriety.
To Ziven, Kaive's decision was not just reckless. It was an insult, and challenge. A betrayal of everything their family stood for.
And the worst part was that Kaive didn't seem to care at all.
"She would just assist me, brother," Kaive protested, his voice steady but edged with impatience.
"She won't even smell the festival," Ziven snapped back. "Let alone be part of the committee."
Kaive's jaw tightened. He hadn't wanted this rising conflict between them. He and Ziven had never disagreed before. Whatever Ziven chose to do, Kaive had always accepted without question.
He never interfered, never challenged, never pushed back. In truth, Ziven had been the one making most of the decisions their entire lives, and Kaive had allowed it. But this time was different.
A tense silence settled over the room until Lord Lars cleared his throat, the sound was loud enough, it got their attention. He slowly rose to his feet, his expression looked troubled.
In all his years serving the royal family, he had never witnessed such a sight of the two princes standing on opposite sides of an argument.
"I… will allow you two to have a proper discussion," Lord Lars said carefully, choosing each word with caution.
He bowed deeply. "Your Royalties."
With one last glance at the brothers, Lord Lars hurried out of the study, leaving them alone with the growing storm between them.
Ziven fixed his attention on Kaive, who now sat comfortably in the chair with his legs crossed, as if the world and Ziven's anger meant absolutely nothing to him. The calmness on Kaive's face only fueled Ziven's frustration.
"This is madness, Kaive. And you know it," Ziven said.
Kaive didn't flinch. "Why can't I get your trust on this?"
"You won't get my trust," Ziven shot back, "not when you want to add someone unworthy to the planning committee."
"Brother…" Kaive began.
"Shut it." The command shut Kaive up, and silence followed.
The age gap between them was only four years, yet Kaive respected Ziven so deeply it often felt like ten. Ziven had always been the authoritative one… decisive, strict, unwavering. And Kaive had always followed without question, letting his older brother lead, letting him make decisions for both of them and for the kingdom.
But for the first time, Kaive wasn't yielding.
He leaned back in the chair, his expression unreadable. Ziven's chest rose and fell with growing agitation. Seeing Kaive challenge him was something he had never prepared himself for. And he hated it.
*
*
*
After the long, exhausting conversation with Kaive, Ziven finally retired to his room. His mind still throbbed with frustration, his thoughts replaying every word exchanged between them. All he wanted was silence, and just a moment to breathe.
But the moment he opened his door, he stopped short. Lady Eirene was lying comfortably on his bed, her long hair fanned across the pillows, as though she had been waiting for him for quite some time. He hadn't expected her to be here.
She always visited her grandfather on the fourth day of the week without fail. It was a routine she never broke.
"My grandpapa traveled," Lady Eirene said softly, catching the surprise written all over Ziven's face.
"That's why I didn't go today."
Ziven nodded stiffly, the muscles in his shoulders tightening before slowly relaxing again. He shut the door behind him and walked toward the bed.
He sat beside her and let out a long sigh. Today had drained every part of him. The bickering, the disappointment, the shock of Kaive's defiance… it had all worn him thin.
Eirene watched him quietly, concern flickering in her eyes.
Lady Eirene quickly moved to where he sat. Without a word, she slipped her hands beneath the folds of his robe and eased it off his shoulders. Then she began massaging him, her fingers pressing gently into the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders.
"Hm." Ziven exhaled, feeling the knots slowly loosen.
"You're so tired," she murmured. "I can't imagine why, when you've already pushed some duties to your brother so you wouldn't be overwhelmed."
Ziven had indeed managed to shift several responsibilities onto Kaive. As the first son, he oversaw nearly everything in the kingdom. The Grand Trine Festival included. Delegating to Kaive was supposed to give him relief, but instead… At the thought of Olessia, his hand curled into a tight fist.
Lady Eirene noticed immediately. She finished the massage and sat beside him, gently taking his clenched fist into both of her hands.
"Something is definitely bothering you," she said softly.
"It is nothing to worry about, Lady Eirene."
"Nonsense. Speak to me, my love."
Ziven sighed and touched his temple before finally answering.
"It's Kaive. I think he's not ready to handle certain duties," he began. "He wants that black-haired outsider to be part of the committee. In fact, he wants her to be in charge of planning The Grand Trine Festival."
Lady Eirene's eyes widened. Olessia? The audacity of it made irritation flash across her face. A girl who they don't know anything about… given such honor? Over noblewomen who trained their whole lives for this? Her jaw tightened, but she schooled her expression before Ziven could notice.
"But of course I disagreed," Ziven continued firmly. "There is no way I'll accept that."
Lady Eirene nodded, though her thoughts swirled sharply. That girl is already becoming a problem… and now this? No. Absolutely not.
"Why don't you ask a noble lady to assist your brother with the festival preparations instead?" she suggested sweetly.
"That's a good idea," Ziven admitted. "But who would willingly work with Kaive? You know how cold and strict he is."
"Lady Walda has always shown interest in how we plan the Grand Trine Festival," Lady Eirene said. "She asks every year."
Ziven's brows lifted slightly. "Hmm. Yes… she is competent. And she and Kaive both attended The Central Institution of Art."
He stood up, walked to his desk, and sat down. Picking up a pen, he dipped it into the ink.
"I'll send her an invitation. It's the best decision at the moment."
Bringing Lady Walda, who is highborn, beautiful, ambitious… would be far easier than allowing an outsider like Olessia anywhere near the festival's planning.
Ziven began writing, the pen gliding smoothly across the parchment.
"By order of His Royalty Ziven of the Kingdom of Aurethia, Lady Walda of House Seranth is hereby summoned to the palace, to work side by side with His Royal Highness Kaive on the Grand Trine Festival, and to present herself at the earliest hour of convenience."