The room shifted in an instant. A stillness swept over the tavern like a gust of wind through fire snuffing out laughter, halting drunken songs mid verse, even freezing the wild stomping feet on the dance floor.
Every head turned. Mugs were set down. Words died in throats. Even the air felt heavier. There just inside the entrance, framed by the glow of the torches and the fading light of dusk stood Prince Kaelum.
Tall. Regal and unbothered. Despite the chaotic setting, he looked entirely out of place and yet utterly commanding, as if the very floorboards remembered he was royalty and straightened themselves beneath his boots.
His cloak was tossed over one shoulder, his black tunic tailored tight over his chest, damp from the ride. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind, and there was something sharp, dangerous, about the way his gaze swept the tavern.
Then, in unison, the room bowed. Tables creaked as men stumbled to stand. Some spilled their drinks in a rush to lower their heads. Even the dancers dropped into uneasy curtsies.
At the table in the shadows, Davinia's mouth fell open. "What in the world..." Milena whispered, blinking.
"He came here?" Evangeline's voice was breathless with disbelief.
Davinia couldn't even speak. Her heart thudded like a drumbeat, and suddenly she was very aware of how out of place they were. The Prince of Avalorm in a commoner's bar? Her husband here?
Without a word Kaelum strode forward. Not a hint of confusion on his face. Not surprise, not even annoyance. He moved as if he belonged there. Straight through the stunned crowd, eyes fixed on one person.
Merritt.
The girls could only stare.
At the table near the center of the tavern, where just moments ago they'd seen Prince Kaelum stride in like a dark storm, was now... laughter. Real laughter. Not the stiff, polite chuckles of the court or the silent smirks of obligation. But the loud, careless kind that made heads throw back and cheeks flush.
"You're late," Merritt said, raising his tankard as Kaelum pulled out a chair across from him.
Kaelum gave a low chuckle, the sound smooth and casual, a sound Davinia would have believed he coul. "You know I'm a busy man. Ruling, dodging nobles."
"Dodging wives, you mean."
That earned a few hoots around the table. Men laughed, some slapping the wooden table, some tilting their mugs in agreement.
Davinia, from her corner seat in the shadows, stiffened. Kaelum only smirked, unbothered. He reached for a drink poured for him without needing to ask.
"What game tonight, then?" Kaelum asked as he sat, his voice a little louder now. "Cards? Dice? Another round of humiliating Merritt?"
A young man no older than twenty grinned devilishly and leaned forward. "How about chess? Merritt's always bragging he can beat anyone."
Merritt scoffed. "That was one time, and I was drunk."
Kaelum raised a brow. "That would explain your defeat."
More laughter.
Then the younger man clapped his hands. "Alright then. Prince against Prince. Merritt versus Kaelum. Let's make it interesting."
Merritt leaned back with a slow grin, his gaze gleaming with mischief. "I'll place a bet."
"On what?" Kaelum asked, taking a long drink.
Merritt's eyes sparkled as he said, "I bet on your wife."
Kaelum's mug froze.
"I bet you'll fall for her soon enough," Merritt added, smirking.
Kaelum set his drink down, a slow, sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You really don't know me well, do you?"
"You're not that heartless, brother."
Kaelum scoffed, then leaned forward lazily. "Fine. I'll raise you." His gaze sharpened just slightly. "I bet your wife, Princess Astrid will run away from marriage before the year ends."
The table roared with laughter.
Merritt clutched his chest dramatically. "She should, for her own sanity."
Even Kaelum cracked a grin. From across the room, the girls sat frozen.
"I..." Milena blinked. "Is this real life?"
"I didn't know they... laughed," Evangeline whispered.
"They're playing games," Davinia said under her breath, watching Kaelum. She had never seen him like this, easy, relaxed, light. The Kaelum she knew was a man of steel and coldness. This one? This one had charm. Jokes. Even friends.
And he'd bet on her.
The warmth she'd felt earlier, when he defended her during the ancestral rite, fizzled beneath the cool wave of confusion. What was he playing at? Or was this the real him? Her chest ached with the weight of not knowing who her husband was.
Kaelum, meanwhile, sat across the room and without even glancing back tapped the board as the first chess pieces were placed.
"Your move, Merritt."
Suddenly a girl barely dressed, wearing nothing but a corset-laced apron and skirts too short for modesty, had strutted over to the table of laughing princes with a tray of jugs in hand, hips swaying like it was an act.
"Someone ordered beer?" she purred, eyes locked on Kaelum.
Kaelum didn't look up. Not immediately.
But the girl winked anyway, bold and deliberate, before leaning forward to set the tray down.
Davinia didn't miss it. Saw the way her hand grazed his shoulder, her painted lips just inches from his ear.
"And a little massage for the prince," the girl whispered, trailing her fingers over the back of Kaelum's neck like she had a right to him.
It hit Davinia like a blow.
Milena paused, her eyes darting to Evangeline. Evangeline frowned, whispering under her breath, "Is she serious?"
But Davinia didn't speak. She just stood. Hard and sudden, her chair scraped back, the legs of it catching the uneven floorboard and clattering against the wood. Heads turned near them. A few men glanced over. The laughter at the prince's table continued, oblivious.
"Davinia?" Milena asked, standing halfway.
"I'm going home," Davinia said shortly, her voice tight with fury, chest burning.
"Wait, don't do this..." Evangeline began, reaching out, but Davinia had already started pushing through the crowd.
The tavern suddenly felt like it was closing in on her, laughters too loud, lights too hot, her cheeks flushed with humiliation and something deeper: betrayal. She didn't even know why it stung this much.
She barely made it halfway to the door when a figure stepped into her path. Tall and smelling of smoke and ale. A rugged man with a gray tunic, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers and a crooked smile on his lips.
"Well, hey there, beautiful," he drawled. "Didn't expect to see a lady like you in a place like this. You single?"
Davinia blinked, taken aback, the bitter smoke wafting into her face. "Get out of my way," she said coolly, but the man only grinned wider.
"C'mon now, don't be shy. You're clearly upset. Why not let me cheer you up a little? You alone?"
His hand moved to lightly graze her arm, and that was it. Before she could respond, a blur of movement came from behind. A firm hand gripped the man's wrist and yanked it back so hard the cigarette flew to the ground.
Kaelum.
"She's not alone." his voice came out a little more deeper, and possessive.
The man blanched instantly, eyes widening as he realized who stood before him.
"I-I didn't know, your Highness..."
Kaelum didn't spare him another look. He tugged Davinia to his side, possessively, protectively, his grip gentle but unwavering.
"I suggest," Kaelum said, his tone sharp as broken glass, "you take your hand-and your mouth-and walk away. Now!"
The man backed up so fast he nearly tripped over a stool. Kaelum turned to Davinia then, jaw clenched. But Davinia only stared at him, anger and confusion storming in her chest.
"You were enjoying her little massage," she snapped, voice low.
Kaelum arched a brow. "I didn't."
"She touched you."
"She touches everyone. That's what she's paid to do."
"You didn't stop her."
"Because I didn't need to." He leaned closer, his tone rough. "But I did stop him."
She was trembling, breath caught in her throat, as if that would calm her. The crowd continued on around them, unaware that the prince and his bride stood locked in a quiet war of words, hearts racing.
"Let's go," he said finally, not waiting for her answer. Instead, to Davinia's utter shock, he turned them both around, right back into the tavern's crowded belly. The laughter, clinking jugs, and loud music returned like a storm, but this time, it was Kaelum who cut through it with steady, commanding steps, his fingers still wrapped around hers.
Before she could even grasp what he was doing, they were back at the table where the princes and their companions sat, Merritt stopped sipping his beer, another man others staring up in stunned silence.
Kaelum's voice broke the chatter. "Everyone," he said, his tone clipped but firm, "this is Davinia. My wife. Princess of Avalorm."
Every single head at the table turned toward her. The entire group froze like statues, then slowly as if collectively remembering their manners, rose to bow or nod in respect. The noise in their corner lowered to a buzz.
Kaelum continued, "Apologies for not introducing her earlier. She… stumbled upon our little gathering."
Davinia's cheeks flamed with color. She didn't know what stunned her more being publicly acknowledged by him, being pulled into his private world like she actually belonged, or the sheer number of faces watching her now like she'd just stepped off a golden chariot.
He led her to the seat beside his, gesturing for her to sit. She did, heart pounding, knees weak. When he took the seat beside her and called for another round of drinks. "For the lady," he said casually, it struck her.
He wasn't ashamed of her neither was he hiding her. He just separated parts of his life. Maybe not to hurt her, but to protect something of himself. And now, she'd barged into it and scolded him like he was off consorting with witches.
Guilt bubbled in her stomach. She tried to smile as Merritt raised his glass toward her with a lopsided grin. "Finally, This men were starting to think my dear brother made you up."
The table chuckled.
Davinia smiled awkwardly. "Glad to confirm I'm not imaginary."
"Well," a tall, sun tanned man with a messy bun said, "you're more stunning than Kaelum described."
Kaelum shot him a deadly look. "I never described her to any of you."
"That's the problem," another man cackled. "You've been hiding her like she's your secret mistress, not your wife."
"Speaking of," Merritt said, leaning forward, elbows on the table, eyes glinting with mischief. "Since we're finally all here, can we ask the question now?"
Kaelum gave him a bored look. "No."
Merritt grinned wider. "That's not a 'no' you mean. That's a 'not in front of my wife' no."
"What question?" Davinia asked, confused, still catching up.
"Nothing," Kaelum said at the same time Merritt said, "If he's slept with you yet."
Davinia choked on the sip of her drink. The entire table erupted with howling laughter. Kaelum looked as if he wanted to stab someone, particularly his brother. Merritt had no shame whatsoever. This new side of Merritt surprised Davinia more than anything.
"Oh come on, Kael, we're dying here," Merritt said, holding his sides. "You've been married how long? Two weeks? And yet you walk around like you've swallowed nails and never taken a single bite of dessert."
"I will break your arm," Kaelum said flatly.
"Worth it," Merritt wheezed, still laughing.
Another man leaned in dramatically and whispered to Davinia, "Just blink twice if he hasn't touched you yet."
Kaelum stood up slightly, shoulders squared like he was seconds from flipping the table.
Davinia, flustered and red-faced but also oddly… amused, lifted her chin.
"I'll let you all wonder," she said smoothly, stealing Kaelum's untouched mug and sipping from it, her voice sweet and innocent. "Wouldn't want to ruin the mystery."
That shut them up, followed by hollers of laughter and applause. Kaelum's mouth twitched. And this time, when he looked at her, there was a softness in his eyes she hadn't seen before. Maybe just maybe she wouldn't be a stranger in his world anymore.