Chapter 14: A brother's loyalty

Rylan carefully helped Lysander sit up, his face contorted in pain as he cradled his burned hand. Grey Wolf handed Rylan a small vial of medicine and a balm. "Apply this balm to the affected area, Prince Lysander. It will help soothe the burn and promote healing."

Rylan took the vial and balm, his eyes never leaving Lysander's face. "Thank you, Grey Wolf." But his gaze lingered on the old man, suspicion simmering beneath the surface. "If Lysander is innocent, why did the Red Orb react differently? Why did it burn his hand?"

Kael's voice was laced with concern and a hint of accusation. "Yes, Grey Wolf, what does it mean? You said the Red Orb wouldn't harm the innocent."

Grey Wolf's expression turned thoughtful, his eyes clouding with a mixture of uncertainty and worry. "I'm not sure, my princes. The Red Orb's behavior is...unsettling. I've never seen it react like this before."

Kaidrian's gaze narrowed, his eyes fixed on Lysander with a calculating intensity. "We'll take our leave now, Grey Wolf. I have a coronation to prepare for."

The brothers stood, their movements tense and deliberate. As they reached the door, Kaidrian turned back to Grey Wolf. "I'll be crowned King of Tenebrous in a week's time. I expect your presence at the ceremony."

Grey Wolf bowed his head, his voice low and measured. "Of course, my prince. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

As the brothers departed, Grey Wolf's expression turned inward, his thoughts consumed by the strange occurrence. "Kaidrian is indeed in trouble.

As the princes approached the castle, the sound of hooves on the cobblestone courtyard echoed through the air. Butler Jenkins awaited them, his face a picture of loyalty and dedication. "Welcome back, my princes," he said, his voice low and respectful.

Kaidrian dismounted his horse, his movements fluid and graceful. "Thank you, Jenkins," he replied, his eyes scanning the castle's facade. The once-vibrant halls now seemed dull and lifeless, a constant reminder of the tragedy that had befallen their family.

As the brothers made their way into the castle, Kaidrian's gaze lingered on the empty spaces, his heart heavy with sorrow. The palace, once filled with laughter and warmth, now felt like a hollow shell. He turned to his brothers, his voice laced with a mix of melancholy and determination. "Get some rest, brothers. I have something to show you all in an hour. It's important."

His brothers nodded, their faces reflecting their own struggles with the past. "Yes, Kaidrian," they said in unison, before dispersing to their respective chambers.

Kaidrian, however, headed towards the kitchen, his footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors. The palace's silence was oppressive, a constant reminder of the absence that now filled their lives. He pushed open the kitchen door, and the warm aroma of baking bread enveloped him, offering a fleeting sense of comfort.

Mrs. White, the castle's esteemed cook, looked up from her work, her eyes shining with a warmth that belied the sadness in her heart. "Yes, my prince?" she said, her voice soft and gentle.

"I want you to prepare a feast, Mrs. White," Kaidrian said, his eyes locked on hers. "Something special, something that will bring us all together. It's been a week since we last shared a meal as a family."

Mrs. White's face lit up with understanding, her hands moving with renewed purpose. "Of course, my prince. I'll make sure it's a dinner to remember."

Kaidrian's gaze lingered on her face, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "And, Mrs. White?"

"Yes, my prince?"

"Please inform my mothers and sisters that we'll be dining together tonight. I want everyone to be there."

Mrs. White's eyes sparkled with a knowing glint. "I'll make sure they're all present, my prince."

Kaidrian nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Thank you, Mrs. White. You're a true gem of this palace."

Lysander trudged into his chambers, exhaustion etched on his face. He collapsed onto his bed, his burnt hand throbbing in protest. "Damn, I'm tired," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the injured hand. Why had the Red Orb treated him differently? The question swirled in his mind like a vortex, refusing to let go.

Just as he began to drift into a restless slumber, a knock at the door jolted him awake. "Ughhh," he groaned, hauling himself off the bed to answer the door.

He opened it to find his mother, Lady Vesper, standing in the corridor. Her eyes radiated warmth and concern. "Good afternoon, sweetie," she said, her voice soft and soothing.

Lysander forced a smile onto his lips. "Good afternoon, Mother."

Lady Vesper glided into the room, her gaze scanning her son's face before settling on his burnt hand. Her expression transformed from warmth to shock. "What in the world happened to your hand?"

Lysander hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "It's nothing, Mother. Just a minor injury from our hunting trip."

Lady Vesper's eyes narrowed, her voice taking on a sharp edge. "Don't lie to me, Lysander. I can see the burn is severe. Did Kaidrian do this to you?"

Lysander's eyes widened in protest. "No, Mother! Kaidrian would never hurt me. It was an accident, I swear."

Lady Vesper's face relaxed slightly, but her eyes remained skeptical. "Very well, I'll let it slide for now. But don't think you can fool me, Lysander. I know you, and I know when you are hiding something."

She paused, her gaze lingering on his hand before continuing. "And don't forget to join us for dinner tonight. Kaidrian wants everyone to be there."

Lysander nodded, watching as his mother's expression softened once more. "Yes, Mother. I'll be there."