The preparations for the wedding did not take much time. Rihaan had sent letters to his family for nearly two months before they finally agreed to acknowledge the relationship once again.

Meanwhile, Soren had been forced to speak with the two former marriage candidates, ensuring they would not take the rejection personally—or seek revenge later on. Such things were not rare, after all.

Surprisingly, neither reacted harshly. The Prince of Maiju was clearly disappointed—perhaps even aggrieved—but Soren showed him no pity, standing firm in his decision.

Seated alone on a chair, Rihaan admired the scenery before him. Outside, the snow had long since melted, merging with the rivers’ waters. Fresh green grass sprouted from soil that had once been hard and lifeless, stripped bare by winter’s cruelty.

He could hardly believe spring had returned to this cold, unforgiving land. He had almost forgotten what Revhara looked like in full bloom.

The royal palace possessed a vast greenery pavilion, meticulously maintained through magic—but it was nothing compared to what nature itself could achieve. Magic was a gift, without a doubt. One that reshaped lives and landscapes alike. Yet, over time, it stole away a certain authenticity.

With a sharp exhale, Rihaan lowered his gaze to the letter in his hand.

He had retreated to a quiet corner, away from the castle’s chaos. Servants rushed back and forth, voices overlapping as orders were barked and answered, all in preparation for the Crown Prince’s wedding—the first wedding of the royal family itself. It had to be flawless. Grand enough to display the Empire’s wealth and prestige before every kingdom.

The paper crumpled slightly beneath the pressure of his grip.

Rihaan frowned immediately, loosening his hold and smoothing the letter flat before reading it.

It was from his younger brother.

The words within were filled with guilt—an apology born from the belief that he himself had been the cause of Rihaan’s loss.

But Rihaan did not know what immense loss his brother was referring to—not until he read the final lines: [Do you truly wish to proceed with this wedding? Are you not curious about what happened to your lover after you left?]

That was the last sentence of the letter. It was not signed.

Maybe he was in a rush while writing, given that his letters were all over the place and his sentences weren’t organized.

Rihaan’s stomach twisted at the words ’your lover’.

He clenched his jaw, memories surfacing against his will. The last time he had seen that man, everything had been blurred—his mind unable to grasp the details of their conversation. What remained was the bitterness lingering on his tongue, the ache crushing his chest, a pain so unbearable he had been convinced he would die from it.

And the only place where he had found solace was Soren’s room.

In the bedchambers of a man he had been certain would cast him out without hesitation. Or perhaps—deep down—he had always known of Soren’s kindness and had selfishly relied on it.

Yet this time was different.

Unlike before, Rihaan knew exactly what he felt for Soren. It was neither hatred nor unease, but something far more dangerous—love, and admiration he had once refused to acknowledge.

A pair of arms wrapped around him, catching the young man off guard.

But as soon as the sweet scent of familiar pheromones drifted into his nostrils, a faint smile formed on his lips.

"Should you be doing this?" He murmured. "What if someone sees you—the Imperial Crown Prince—acting like this?" Rihaan teased.

Soren giggled, pulling away, only to be tugged back immediately, his chest pressing against the alpha’s back.

Rihaan’s hazel gaze lingered on the omega’s face, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Soren’s forehead.

The omega’s cheeks flushed instantly. He straightened at once when he heard footsteps approaching.

"What’s wrong?" Rihaan asked, feigning innocence.

Soren narrowed his eyes, then shook his head. It was only a maid passing through the adjacent hallway.

It seemed his senses had heightened since his last heat.

Was it because he had spent it with an alpha?

"What were you reading?" Soren asked. "I’ve been observing you from over there for some time now," he added, pointing at the pillar not far from where they stood.

"Nothing special," Rihaan replied, tearing the letter apart piece by piece, making sure no one could ever read its contents.

"Why so aggressive?" Soren raised an eyebrow.

"Just my parents nagging me for not returning to my kingdom," he explained. It wasn’t a lie—his parents had sent countless letters about it. "They say I’ve become uxorious since coming here," he chuckled.

Soren couldn’t help but laugh.

"Huh? What does that even mean?"

"You don’t know, yet you laugh?" Rihaan narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Don’t look at me like that! I’m serious—I’ve never heard that word before."

"Basically..." Rihaan inhaled sharply before exhaling. "A wife’s slave. I’m far too fond of you."

"Are you?" Soren asked softly, placing a hand on Rihaan’s shoulder.

Before he could do anything else, he was suddenly pulled down onto the alpha’s lap.

"What are you doing?!" Soren gasped, lightly hitting Rihaan’s shoulder—harsh enough to protest, but not enough to hurt.

"O-Ow! Ow! Ow!" Rihaan jolted with every hit, exaggerating the pain until Soren stopped, batting his lashes innocently at him.

"Did I hit you too hard?"

"Hard, you say?" Rihaan scoffed dramatically. "You are one of the strongest in the Empire, dearest. How could I—a mere... low-class man—possibly endure that?"

Soren hit his shoulder again—harder this time.

The alpha faked a groan, rubbing his arm on his shirt.

"How crude," he murmured.

"Oh please," Soren breathed. "No need to be so dramatic."

Rihaan laughed softly, catching Soren’s wrist before he could strike again. He brought it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the omega’s knuckles.

"You see?" he murmured. "Cruel. Absolutely cruel. Yet I can’t help but love you more with every second that passes—"

Soren scoffed, though his ears burned red.

"Such loving confessions can wait. Release me at once, Your Highness. We are in the middle of the palace grounds."

"And whose fault is that?" Rihaan tilted his head, feigning innocence. "You were the one who sneaked up on me. I was sitting here, all alone, enjoying the view, you know."

"I did not sneak," Soren protested, furrowing his brows at once. "I walked here. Normally."

He refused to lose the argument, though deep down, he knew far too well that he was indeed at fault.

"Ah, yes," Rihaan nodded solemnly. "In the most dangerous way—wrapping your arms around a man as if he were your husband."

Soren tried to push himself off his lap, but Rihaan’s arms tightened around his waist, firm yet gentle—possessive in a way that made Soren’s breath hitch despite himself. Heat rushed up his neck, his pale skin turning pinkish.

"Rihaan," he warned quietly, looking up at the man.

Though he was strong, he was still much smaller in both height and build than Rihaan.

The alpha lowered his voice at once, sensing the shift.

"I know, I know. I get it. I’ll behave," he said, though his smile said otherwise. Still, he loosened his hold, allowing Soren to stand—reluctantly.

Soren smoothed his robes, clearing his throat as if that could erase the heat crawling up his neck.

"You truly are impossible to deal with sometimes."

"And yet," Rihaan replied, rising as well, "you chose to marry me instead of those strange men who were your marriage candidates."

Their eyes met, something warm and unspoken passing between them. For a moment, the noise of the palace—the hurried footsteps, the distant voices—faded into nothing. It was as if only they existed, and nothing else.

Soren broke the silence first.

"Everyone is working themselves to the bone for this wedding. I hope this time you won’t leave without prior notice," he teased, referring to Rihaan’s past mistake.

"As they should," Rihaan said lightly. Then, after a pause, more softly, "You shouldn’t mention that. It’s... in the past. We should let it remain there. I am a changed man now."

Soren hesitated.

"If you say so. However, this time there are more expectations than before. It will not be just an engagement, but a marriage—and as you said back then, it is something meant to last a lifetime."

Rihaan reached out, brushing his thumb against the back of Soren’s hand.

"I understand. You may relax. I will never leave you behind," he said, almost like a vow to himself, his gaze firmer than Soren had ever seen before.

He was serious.

Soren looked at him then—really looked at him. The teasing prince was still there, smiling faintly, but beneath it lay a sincerity so bare it made his chest ache.

"You say that," Soren replied quietly, "and it’s as if you’re standing here with me, ready to face every danger."

Rihaan smiled, softer now.

"Because this time, I’m not running."

Footsteps echoed closer. This time, they both heard them.

Soren stepped back first, straightening, his expression returning to composed serenity.

"I should go," he said. "Before someone truly does see us."

Rihaan sighed.

"Cruel," he repeated, though he obeyed. He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Tonight, then?"

Soren allowed himself a small smile.

"Tonight."