Hurried knocks sounded from the heavy wooden door. However, before the room’s occupant could sound his consent, the visitor swung it open and made his way in.

“Wake up, Brother. The sun’s singeing a hole through your arse.” The young man commanded as he set a small table laden with a food tray down by the bed. “I brought breakfast, so giddy up.”

Coris didn’t wiggle a toe as he yawned.

“I’m not hungry. Go ahead; I know you want it.”

Shaking his head, Zier went about opening the lids of the bowls and plates.

“No deal. Mother demanded I sit on you until you finish every last drop of soup before I can proceed with my life.”

Coris gave an incomprehensible moan. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Zier pounced onto the bed, flattening his brother, who sent up a muffled oof.

"Get up and eat, bone-bags! You grow any thinner and people will think Father’s starving you!” He cupped his mouth and hollered into Coris’s ears.

“Alright, gerroff me. I’m up, I’m up.”

Coris peeled himself from the soft, bouncy bed with the speed and willingness of a bandage left too long over a weeping wound. As Zier rolled off him and bounded back down to the floor, Coris noticed a new set of robes Arinel had laid out for him on the bed. He pulled on a pair of linen undergarments,

“By the way, where’s Ari?”

Zier froze, then shone his brother a sly, knowing grin.

“So, it’s Ari now, eh? Whatever happened to Lady Arinel?”

Coris reddened but kept silent. Ignoring Zier, he picked up the trousers and slipped his legs into them, but the irrepressible young lord was not to be deterred.

“Back at the table, Lady Arinel said you two haven’t done it yet, but you weren’t wearing anything. And you look dead pooped.” Zier observed, his grin growing wider as he propped his chin on the bed.

“I know you usually don’t sleep in the nude, and it isn’t summer yet. Thus, I arrived at the inevitable conclusion: CORIS HADRIAN HAS LOST HIS VIRGINI―"

“SHUT UP!”

Coris flung his shirt at Zier’s face, stuffing his brother’s fat mouth full of silk. Zier snatched the shirt off, revealing his face still full of smiles. Coris yanked his shoulder for him to lean closer.

“Yes, we did it. But don’t you breathe a word of this to anyone, understand? Especially Father and Mother.” He whispered through gritted teeth. Zier blinked in confusion.

“Why not? The sooner she’s pregnant the better, isn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes. “You do know they’re going to keep nagging you about it, don’t you?”

“It’s no use, Zier. The healers all agreed. I’m too weak to impregnate anyone.”

Coris grabbed the shirt back from Zier, pulled it over his head then slid down to the floor, fuming as he stirred the steaming soup for it to cool.

“Father knows, and yet he went through with the marriage. And Arinel insisted we do it anyway. She may not care much about herself, but I do. I must protect her future.”

“But you’ve never slept with anyone before. How could you be so sure you can’t give her a babe?”

“Even if I could, I don’t want to. Why would I have a child when I know I won’t live long enough to take care of it? It’s cruel for the child and the mother.”

At his brother’s final word, Zier’s face fell and he picked glumly at the stones beneath his feet. He was probably hoping Coris would have a son with Arinel, who would become Baron instead of him. Coris knew Zier had never wanted the Hadrian throne; he’d always dreamed of living the spare’s carefree life, and it pained him to dash his brother’s faint hopes.

“I’m sorry, Zier. It has to be you.”

“Guess I’m destined for greatness.” Zier quipped with a resigned shrug, then brought back his jolly grin. “But, seriously. You’ve just had the first fling of your life and we’re discussing politics and birthrights?”

Zier raised an insinuating eyebrow. At the sight of those prying, curious eyes, Coris sensed danger. Keeping calm, he scooped up a spoonful of soup and tested it with the very tip of his tongue. Once sure it had gone lukewarm and would not scald his damaged gullet, he sipped the whole mouthful, but Zier was having none of it.

“Come on, Coris! You know your little brother needs to hear your life experience. Details!”

Zier tugged at his brother’s sleeve. Still, Coris managed to continue eating.

“Please. How do breasts feel? Was she a virgin? How did it feel when you went inside her? Did she bleed? What noises did she make? Did you do the mouth trick? And did you try out that position Simon was talking aboーOw!”

Coris swatted Zier’s head with his loaf of bread, his face deep crimson. Ignoring the fake whimpers, he cut a slice off the bread and rested it in the soup.

“Thank you for your concern regarding my married life, little brother. Your questions were not in the least impertinent. Nor do they encroach upon my privacy. Nor do they disrespect my wife’s dignity.”

Zier eked out a sheepish grin.

“Let’s just say we thoroughly enjoyed it. I shan’t go so far as to say we’re in love; I could see us becoming good friends. I think she feels the same way. I must admit, I’m rather fond of her. She’s clever, passionate—and strong.”

Coris allowed himself a gentle smile, remembering how she took his fearsome coughing episodes in stride and tended to him without a word.

His smile became melancholic, however, when he remembered how she convinced him to take her virginity, to do things for himself for once and make the most out of his remaining time. Though he felt he was giving in to his selfish desires when he agreed to do so, he was grateful for her kindness and surprised by her determination, nonetheless.

“Is she like Agnes?”

Zier asked. Coris’s smile vanished.

“Not in the least.” His voice was sharp as he snapped out of his reverie. Zier fell silent, knowing he had crossed a forbidden line. Seeing his brother’s uneasiness, Coris calmed, reverting back to his usual soft-spoken self.

“Nevertheless, I’m suspicious. She’s heaped on a mountain of powder to cover up her suntan and freckles. How come? The Crossets have snowy skin that never blemish. She also has those beautiful green eyes, like emeralds. You’ve noticed, too, haven’t you?”

“So?” Still shaken, Zier forced out a cautious laugh at his brother’s dreamy description, although, judging from Coris’s strained expression, he didn’t intend for that comment to be romantic.

“I’ve only met Arinel once, nine years ago, and she must wear a veil in my presence.” Coris frowned in confusion. “But I remember she has blue eyes in her portraits.”

Zier blinked, dumbstruck. Coris went on, this time raising a hand to gesture at his neck.

“She has this pendant around her neck. A coin of some kind of metal, I reckon. It has a rainbow shimmer, unlike any metal I’ve ever seen. And she’s...strange.”

“How?” Zier asked, but he was more focused on helping himself to Coris’s cooling breakfast while his brother was distracted.

“The manner in which she carries herself. Her speech. Her accent; it bleeds through.” Coris rubbed his chin, then narrowed his eyes.

“Then there’s the fact that she doesn’t know about The Axel, at all. I know she’s a girl and born out of wedlock, but you’d think Lord Crosset would’ve at least told her about it when it’s decided that she’ll marry me. She’ll have to help us guard it, too, won’t she?”

As the young lord went on mulling over the lady’s eccentricities, Zier gaped in disbelief, then rolled his eyes and slumped hard against the bed.

“By Freda, brother. Don’t tell me you had all these flying around in your head while you bedded your wife?” Coris merely chuckled, and Zier couldn’t help massaging his forehead. “Come off it. You think Lord Crosset would send you a maid disguised as Lady Arinel or something?”

“Of course I do. Just look at my state.” Coris gestured at his skin-and-bones physique. Zier stopped smiling. “No father would want his daughter to be widowed young and childless, would he?”

Coris resumed eating as if he had been discussing the weather, not his own impending death. Zier gritted his teeth then hung his head.

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” He whispered, his voice pained.

“Come now, it’s alright.” Coris ruffled his hair. At the mournful look in those blue eyes, he gave him a gentle, upbeat smile. “We still have you.”

“Could you stop saying that already?” Zier snapped. Coris laughed in apology.

“Sorry. Seems we can’t just keep it light, eh.” He cocked his head then changed the subject to brighten the mood. “So, can you tell me already where Ari is?”

“Mother’s showing her around the castle. You know, as she’s going to take over Mother’s work one day as Baroness.” Zier accepted the new direction with a casual shrug, then unfurled a devious grin. “Father said if you feel up to it, tomorrow you can take dear Ari for a honeymoon tour of our estate.”

Coris elbowed his brother in jest. Before he could reply, something threw open the door and came hurtling towards them. Next thing he knew, he was bowled over onto his back as that something licked every inch of his face with immense vigor.

“Beau? What are you doing all the way up here?”

Zier gawked at the enormous white greyhound now flattening his brother, who was struggling in vain under its weight.

“No! Paws off my body and no slobber, Beau. Beau! Down, boy, down! I said down!”

Coris could have been yelling orders to a tree for all the heeding he received. Beau went on cleaning his face and nuzzling his neck, while Zier roared with laughter.

Coris was so fond of dogs that he raised an army of them. Beau, the former war messenger dog, was one of his favorites. As he was already dismissed from active duty after suffering an arrow to his leg on one of his message runs, the old hound roamed free around the castle. He loved playing out in the fields with Coris. After Coris’s ailing health confined him indoors for most of his time, Beau was ever eager for a chance to reunite with his master.

Arinel also asked about Beau this morning during breakfast, saying she had seen his portrait in Coris’s room, and Zier had the marshal bring Beau over from the kennels to meet his new mistress. As if he could smell his master’s scent on her, Beau greeted her with equal enthusiasm. By the time Arinel clambered back up to her chair, her face dripping with drool and her hairdo in a slopping mess, everyone was laughing so hard, it was nigh impossible to continue eating.

“Zier, could you stop laughing already and so help me?”

At Coris’s exasperated yell, Zier snapped out of the hilarious recollection. As he wrestled and heaved the energetic hound off his brother, he noticed a small piece of parchment slotted into Beau’s collar.

“Brother, come look. He’s got something!”

Coris, who had clambered onto the bed to get a towel, spun around. When he saw the letter Zier had extricated, he was back by Zier’s side in a split-second.

Silence fell between the brothers as they took in the message, and, for all their differences, by the time they finished, the two boys had paled to the exact same shade of white. They glanced at each other with dread in their eyes.

“The dowry?” Zier raised his eyebrow at his brother in alarm. “I thought there’s no dowry?”

“No, there isn’t.” Coris’s lips barely moved as he stared unblinking at the mysterious letter. “Seeing as the marriage’s already unfair enough to the bride, I asked Father not to demand anything from the Crossets.”

“Then where did all this talk about a dowry come from?”

“It’s not just any dowry these bandits want. And I don’t think they’re just bandits, either. They’re after something specific that is supposedly in Lady Arinel’s dowry. I have an idea what it is.”

Coris gazed into space, eyebrows creasing as he grasped the enormity of the situation.

“Some of our rivals thought Klythe stole The Axel to Crosset when he disappeared. That’s why we’ve barely had heists for all these years. They probably think The Axel’s return is a condition of Arinel’s marriage to me. But we know full well that both of them have got nothing to do with this. We must help Arinel.”

Coris vowed through gritted teeth. Seeing his brother’s determination, Zier grimaced.

“I know you want to protect her, Brother, but if they’re really after that thing, Arinel’s not our priority here.” Zier reminded him, then lowered his voice, “Perhaps we should tell Father and let him deal with this?”

Coris met his brother’s fearful and desperate gaze, then looked away. As a Hadrian, he knew his foremost duty is to The Axel’s protection—but Arinel, she had trusted him. Once she had learned how much he had sacrificed to keep The Axel in Hadrian, she had risked her life to warn him and ask for his help. He couldn’t abandon her. Nor could he alert his father when he had no idea how far he would go to keep The Axel’s secret.

Arinel had gathered up their wedding clothes and hung them from a wooden stand by the bed. Coris picked up the hem of her blue silk gown and caressed it as he thought hard, forming up a strategy.

“We’d better not.” He decided, his resolute silvery eyes staring ahead.

“I’ve got a plan.”