For generations, the Valtrane line had been destined to lead the wars, a legacy of carnage passed from ancestor to descendant until it reached Zarius himself. It was during these relentless campaigns that Zarius had first clashed with Gillian Sylvaris, the Crown Prince of the Solaric Empire.

If the Auzelians were werewolves who dominated through their innate, predatory instincts, the Solaric people were humans blessed with the intricate power of elemental magic.

Zarius, as the Monster Duke, had been the vanguard of Auzelian’s expansion, often sent not just for monster subjugations but to break the back of the Solaric resistance during the great wars. Standing across from him now was the man who had met his blade more times than any other, Gillian Sylvaris, the Crown Prince of Solaric. They were the two pillars of their respective worlds, and while Gillian was a formidable fighter who had forced a stalemate on occasion, it was Zarius who had emerged the victor in the vast majority of their brutal encounters, leaving the earth scorched and broken in his wake.

"Your Highness," Zarius finally broke the silence. "What is the Crown Prince of the Solaric Kingdom doing in the middle of a dirt road in Auzelian? I was under the impression our borders were settled by ink, not blood."

Gillian, despite his disheveled appearance and the weight of the woman in his arms, managed to maintain a flicker of his royal dignity. His soft blue hair was matted with sweat and dirt, but his eyes remained sharp as he looked at his former nemesis.

"Zarius," Gillian exhaled, a breath of genuine relief. "Auzelian or not, I have never been so glad to see that terrifying silhouette of yours. Thank you for saving my sister."

Zarius sheathed his blade with a crisp, final click, though his posture remained wary. "What happened? Your guard was supposed to be elite. To see you reduced to this... it is unlike you."

Gillian’s jaw tightened. "We were resting not far from here when the air changed. It was a sleeping drug, some kind of smoke infused into the bushes and tress around. Most of my men were knocked out before they could even draw their steel. Those who stayed awake fought like drunkards, their limbs heavy and their senses dulled." He looked down at his sister, Iryna, who remained limp in his arms. "They went for her immediately. I managed to grab her and break through, but without a clear head, I could only run."

"And you?" Zarius asked, his golden eyes narrowing. "Why are you still standing if your guards fell?"

"I noticed the scent. I used wind magic to clear the air around me, but I inhaled enough to feel the lag in my pulse," Gillian explained, his voice trailing off into a groan as he shifted his weight. "I only hope the smoke didn’t contain anything more permanent than a sedative."

Zarius gave a curt nod. "My envoy is just ahead. We have healers and a secure perimeter. Please follow me."

The walk back to the road was tense. Zarius’s knights, including Elios and Marielle, trailed behind, their eyes fixed on the Solaric Prince. They reached the main party where the massive carriage stood like a black fortress.

The moment they emerged from the treeline, the carriage door swung open. Cherion stepped down, his face etched with a frown that deepened the moment he saw the carnage on the knights’ armor and the strangers in their midst. Without hesitation, Cherion ignored the royal guest and marched straight toward Zarius.

"Your Grace!" Cherion called out, his voice sharp with a worry he didn’t bother to hide. He reached the Duke, his hands hovering as if he wanted to check for wounds but was afraid of what he might find. "Are you hurt? Did something happen? I heard the fighting and I..."

"I am fine, Cherion," Zarius interrupted, his voice softening by a fraction, a change so subtle only those who knew him would catch it. He caught Cherion’s wrists gently to still his fussing. "The question is better aimed at the bandits." He tilted his head toward the back of the line, where his knights were dragging the tied-up attackers, their faces bruised and their spirits broken.

Cherion peeked behind Zarius and winced. "Oh. Well... I suppose they are indeed having a much worse day than you are." He then turned his attention to the rest of the group, his expression shifting to one of genuine concern. "Elios? Marielle? Is everyone else okay?"

"Not a scratch, Lord Cherion," Elios replied with a graceful bow, while Marielle merely wiped a stray drop of blood from her cheek with a grin. "Just a bit of afternoon exercise."

Zarius stepped between Cherion and the newcomers, his shadow falling over his partner as he began to explain. "These are the royals of the Solaric Kingdom. This is Crown Prince Gillian and his sister, Princess Iryna. They were ambushed by bandits using sleeping gas not far from our path."

Cherion blinked, his gaze finally landing on Gillian. He took in the Prince’s soft blue hair. "Solaric?"

A sharp frown pulled at Cherion’s features, his brow furrowing as he looked between the bedraggled royals and the empty treeline behind them. Zarius watched him closely, noting the way Cherion’s eyes narrowed in deep concentration, his mind clearly racing to calculate the logistics of the situation. After a moment of heavy silence, Cherion looked back at Gillian with a determined expression.

"Where is the rest of your envoy?" Cherion asked, his voice firm. "Please lead the way, we will help."

Gillian didn’t answer immediately. His attention fixed entirely on Cherion. Zarius could practically feel the Prince’s confusion at Cherion’s presence.

Zarius’s instincts flared instantly. He felt the shift in the air before he even saw the expression on Gillian’s face. He saw the way the Solaric Prince’s eyes traveled over Cherion, not with the curiosity of a noble, but with a lingering, sparked interest that made the hair on the back of Zarius’s neck stand up.

Gillian’s gaze was far too soft, far too focused on the way Cherion’s hair caught the light.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in Zarius’s chest, a sound that made the nearby horses shift uneasily and the Northern knights go still. Zarius stepped back, his arm moving with possessive finality to wrap around Cherion’s waist, pulling him flush against his side.

Zarius cleared his throat, the sound sharp and grating like shifting stone, effectively snapping the trance that seemed to have overtaken the Solaric Prince. "Your Highness," Zarius prompted, his voice dropping into a warning tone. "Please, lead the way."

Gillian blinked, finally tearing his eyes away from Cherion as he seemed to remember the urgency of his own envoy. "Oh. Yeah. Right, right," he stammered, shaking his head slightly to clear the fog as he turned to point back toward the trees.

As they began to follow, Zarius kept his gaze fixed on Gillian’s back. Zarius didn’t care about the peace treaty in that moment. He didn’t care about the Crown Prince. He only saw the way Gillian was looking at what belonged to the North, what belonged to him.

And he didn’t like it one bit.