When they reached the dining room and stepped inside, Kiave was already seated, waiting with a calmness that never quite hid the curiosity in his eyes.
"Brother…" Kiave greeted, rising the moment they entered. His voice was steady, but his brows lifted slightly, reading the atmosphere the way he always did.
"You may sit, brother," Ziven said. His tone was even, but Kiave caught the tightness in his jaw. And knew that something was bothering Ziven.
"Maybe that was why he asked for this dinner," Kiave thought… until his gaze drifted past Lady Eirene, and landed on Lady Walda.
She wasn't trying to hide the way she watched him. Her posture straightened immediately under his eyes, and her chin lifting with a hint of pride, as if she expected to be acknowledged.
Kiave blinked in confusion for a moment. Why is she here? The question flickered across his face before he could mask it. Lady Walda noticed, her lips curved into a polished smile and she stepped forward gracefully.
"Greetings, His Royalty Kiave," she said quickly, almost eagerly, lowering her head with elegance.
Kiave, on the other hand, only gave a small nod. He didn't say anything like greeting her back, no polite smile. Just a brief acknowledgment before lowering himself into his seat again. The others followed his lead, sitting down quietly.
Kiave's gaze slid back to Ziven, studying him with intensity. Ziven wasn't looking at him, he was staring ahead, with his fingers tapping once against the table before he stopped himself. Kiave could tell something was off. It was written all over his brother's face... the tightness around his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders.
Kiave felt the urge rise in his chest to ask him, and find out what's wrong. But then he pushed the thought down. Ziven didn't like being cornered with questions. Not when he was already bothered by something.
Earlier, when Kiave had been with Olessia, Hakon had called him, saying "His Royalty Ziven" wanted to see him. When Kiave arrived, Ziven simply said they needed to discuss something and dine together. No explanation, no hint. Just that calm, unreadable expression Kiave hated.
And now… the reason still wasn't clear. But it was definitely sitting in the room with them.
Although Kiave already had plans to dine with Olessia, he hadn't expected to end up at a dinner table with his brother this evening. Still, he adjusted quickly. He figured he could finish here, then return to Olessia afterward, and make up for the interrupted moment.
After all, his brother said he wanted to discuss something important… so here they were.
The cook entered with bows, placing dishes before them one by one. Steam curled upward, carrying delicate, seasoned aromas across the room. Kiave barely glanced at the food, because his mind was too distracted.
Once the final platter was set down, the cook bowed again and slipped out, leaving the four of them in silence.
They began to eat slowly. Cutlery clicked softly against plates. Lady Walda kept stealing glances at Kiave, hoping he'd notice. Kiave didn't spare her a second look.
But Ziven… Ziven was the one who needed to speak. Kiave waited, chewing quietly, watching his brother carefully. The tension on Ziven's face had only deepened.
Finally, Ziven set down his utensil.
"This is Lady Walda," he said, looking between them. "From the House of Saranth. I'm sure you know who she is... you both attended the same institution."
Kiave turned his attention toward Lady Walda, catching the polite smile tucked neatly on her cheeks. Of course he knew who she was, he recognized her the moment she stepped into the dining room. They had attended the Central Institution of Art together, though together was generous. She came from a noble house, but Kaive never allowed anyone close enough for friendship.
Still, Kiave said nothing. His expression remained unreadable, his posture still and composed in that cold, distant way of his. Ziven didn't seem surprised. He knew Kiave well enough to expect that silence, especially when women were involved. Kiave's coldness toward people was blade-sharp… toward women, it was frostbite.
Lady Walda's smile wavered for a second, but she kept it in place, smoothing her hands over her lap as if that would soften the tension.
Ziven cleared his throat quietly, folding his hands together on the table.
"You see," he began, "I sent a letter to Lady Walda yesterday evening, inviting her to come to the palace."
Kiave's eyes flicked back to him, finally showing a hint of curiosity.
"And she made it today," Ziven finished, glancing briefly at Lady Walda, who straightened proudly under the acknowledgment.
Kaive wondered why his brother was saying all of this. He had no business with Lady Walda... none. If Ziven's grand idea was to push another woman toward him, then history was repeating itself in the worst way. Ziven had tried that stunt once, and it crashed. So why now?
Still, Kaive didn't interrupt. He just sat there, waiting for his brother to spill the rest. Because Ziven's voice always carried that hint of 'I'm not done yet,' and Kaive could hear it.
"Lady Walda is here to assist you for The Grind Trine Festival," Ziven said, dropping the words like a stone into still water.
Lady Walda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile still plastered on her cheeks as if she was afraid it might fall off.
"I never asked for her help," Kaive said, his voice icily cold.
Lady Walda's smile slipped instantly... it was awkward, startled, almost embarrassed.
Kaive tried to keep his tone respectful for Ziven's sake, but frustration simmered under the surface. He had told his brother countless times he didn't want help. Yet Ziven, being Ziven, went ahead anyway... disregarding Kaive's choices, his opinions, as if they were nothing.
"I am sure you didn't miss the part where I stated that I invited Lady Walda to the palace."
Ziven's voice wasn't raised, yet it carried that warning which was edged with authority. A tone that said 'I've spoken, and I expect you to listen.'
"She is here to help you in the preparation of the Festival," Ziven added.
Kaive set his spoon down, but the drop wasn't loud, it was intentional. It's just out of frustration. His jaw flexed once, irritation threading through his expression despite how hard he tried to keep everything contained.
"I told you I don't want you looking for help for me," Kaive said, his word clipped as if he was holding back the rest.
"And you still went ahead?"
Lady Eirene's brows lifted subtly, sensing the tension rising. Lady Walda stiffened where she sat, her earlier confidence shrinking as she tried to maintain a polite expression, while her eyes flicking anxiously between the brothers.
"I don't want help from anybody anymore. I already got who will help me. For crying out loud, allow me to, for once, be in charge by myself," Kaive said. His voice trembles not from the effort of holding everything together.
"Stop interfering, brother."
He pushed his chair back and stood, frustration written across the way his fingers fist at his sides. He made to leave.
"Why don't you tell your brother what Lady Walda told us on our way to the dining room," Lady Eirene said suddenly.
Kaive froze at the moment, then slowly turned back. He faced Ziven, his eyes narrowing slightly, and waiting.
"Sit down, brother," Ziven said.
Kaive hesitated, reading their faces... Lady Eirene's expectant stare, Lady Walda's suddenly stiff posture, but he lowered himself back into the chair. Whatever this was, it wasn't a joke.
"On our way to the dining room, Lady Walda mentioned something… disturbing about the black-haired outsider," Ziven said.
At that, Kaive's annoyance disappear, and was replaced with full attention. His posture straightened, and he leaned in slightly, waiting to hear what would come next. Anything about Olessia was no small matter to him.
"Lady Walda caught Olessia telling lies and spreading false rumors around the palace," Ziven continued.
"Rumors that you and she are an item… that you, my brother, ruling beside me in the kingdom of Aurethia, have taken interest in an outsider."