Chapter 385: A Change of Plans

The silver teapot was finally empty, but Zarius had reached the absolute limit of his patience.

"If you drink one more cup of tea, Gillian, I am going to throw the tray out the window," Zarius said, pushing his chair back with a heavy, scraping sound against the floor.

Gillian merely smirked, placing his empty cup down with a soft thud. "You have no appreciation for fine leaves, Duke Valtrane. But fine. I suppose we should return to the grand political theater."

Zarius didn’t wait for him. He adjusted his coat and stepped out of the reception room, his long strides taking him down the broad, carpeted hallway of the palace’s eastern wing. Gillian trailed half a step behind, his hands tucked casually behind his back. The prince didn’t have anywhere in particular to be, but he was stubbornly shadowing Zarius’s every step, partly out of sheer boredom, and partly because walking beside the imposing Northern Duke made court gossips think twice about approaching him.

And frankly, Zarius didn’t have the energy left to push him away.

Zarius’s primary objective wasn’t political maneuvering or royal pleasantries. He wanted to find Cherion.

After hours trapped in dry meetings with the King and tedious banters with Gillian, Zarius felt an restless itch beneath his skin.

Gillian quickened his pace to keep up, trailing half a step behind with his hands tucked casually behind his back. "Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?" Gillian asked, raising an eyebrow. "The main hall is the other way."

"To find Cherion in the glass garden," Zarius replied shortly, not bothering to slow his pace.

At least, that was where he assumed Cherion would be. The King’s aide had explicitly told him that his retinue, Cherion, Elios, and Flio, could wait either in the south salon or take a walk through the glass gardens.

"The glass garden?" Gillian mused, a faintly amused curve on his lips. "A bit humid for a northern boy, isn’t it? Though I suppose the exotic flowers are quite popular with visitors who wish to avoid the main hallways."

They turned down the main south corridor, but before Zarius could make his way down toward the gallery, two figures emerged from an adjoining hallway.

It was Yerel, flanked closely by Karson.

Zarius slowed his step, his posture instantly going rigid. Yerel stopped as well, his eyes sweeping over Zarius before flicking briefly toward Gillian with a look of mild surprise.

Zarius inclined his head, offering a low, measured bow of respect fitting for the Crown Prince. "Your Highness."

"Ah, the Duke," Yerel said, his voice smooth, pleasant, and carefully pitched for court ears. "Are you finally finished having your lengthy discussion with my father?"

"I am," Zarius replied flatly, stopping a few paces away. He kept his hands at his sides, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure in the narrow corridor.

Yerel offered a polite, somewhat condescending nod. "That is good to hear. You know, House Valtrane really should feel immensely honored regarding the betrothal proposal Princess Iryna brought forward today. It isn’t every day the Crown offers such an intimate, binding union to a northern house."

Zarius’s jaw set into a hard, dangerous line. "Is that so?" he murmured, offering nothing more than a clipped, frigid response. He had zero desire to engage in a verbal fencing match over Marielle’s future in the middle of a public hallway. "If you will excuse me, Your Highness."

Zarius made to step past them, intent on reaching the garden.

"If you are looking for Cherion, he isn’t in the glass garden anymore," Yerel called out softly.

Zarius stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes fixing on the Crown Prince in dead silence.

"He left quite a while ago," Yerel continued, a faint smile playing on his lips as he took a casual step closer. He crossed his arms, looking entirely relaxed. "I crossed paths with him earlier. We talked for a bit. Reminisced a little about old times."

A sudden, fierce heat flared in the pit of Zarius’s stomach. A quiet, dangerous roar rumbled deep within his chest, though his physical face remained as motionless as carved granite. The thought of Yerel trapping Cherion, cornering him with unwanted nostalgia and lingering entitlement, made Zarius’s blood run hot.

"Reminisced?" Zarius repeated. "I was under the impression that old times were best left buried. Is there truly anything worth reminiscing about, Your Highness?"

Karson subtly shifted his stance behind Yerel, sensing the sudden spike in tension, but Yerel merely chuckled, completely unbothered by the hostility rolling off the Northern Duke.

"Old memories always hold some value, don’t they?" Yerel murmured, his tone infuriatingly light.

Before Zarius could deliver a colder, far more explicit warning, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the far end of the gallery.

Zarius turned his head, and the dark, suffocating tension instantly drained from his posture, replaced by a sudden wave of quiet grounding.

Cherion was walking up the corridor, flanked by Flio and Elios. Standing right beside them were the High Priest in his sweeping white robes and Iryna.

Cherion’s eyes immediately locked onto Zarius, completely ignoring Yerel and Karson as if they were nothing more than decorative pillars. He walked straight up to Zarius, stopping right at his side, his posture relaxed and entirely comfortable in Zarius’s space.

"Are you done with your meetings?" Cherion asked softly, looking up at Zarius with a quiet, easy familiarity.

"Just finished," Zarius replied, his deep voice softening noticeably as his hand briefly touched the small of Cherion’s back, a subtle, instinctual gesture of protection and possession.

Cherion gave a faint nod before turning his head slightly toward Gillian. "I hope the brotherly talk went well."

Gillian offered an easy smile, resting a hand casually against his side. "It went smoothly enough. A few pots of fine tea, a quiet room, and some decent cake make even long talk tolerable."

Yerel watched the interaction, his eyes darkening as Cherion stood so naturally, so closely against Zarius. The complete lack of acknowledgement from Cherion felt like a quiet, sharp slap to his pride.

Yerel quickly clapped his hands together, the loud clap echoing loudly against the high stone walls. The bright, cheerful smile returned to his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Well! Look at this marvelous gathering," Yerel announced, stepping forward to address the entire group. "The Northern Duke, the High Priest, and our honored guests all together in one hallway."

Yerel looked directly at Cherion, then at Zarius, his eyes glinting with a strange, challenge-filled light.

"Since everyone is present and the morning’s tedious business is behind us," Yerel said smoothly. "Why don’t we all have lunch together?"