[Leif’s POV — Frojnholm— Thorenvald Estate — Later]

"Oh, we’ve arrived," I murmured, leaning over Zephyy’s side as the familiar sprawl of my estate came into view—white rooftops gleaming under the pale sun, smoke curling from chimneys, and the gates standing proud and peaceful.

Zephyy landed with a smooth THUD! —graceful for a creature his size. The moment his claws touched the ground, a handful of people sprinted toward us.

Nick. Baron Sigurd. A few guards. All with that we-have-a-problem-but-we-don’t-want-to-say-it look plastered on their faces.

They bowed low. "Welcome back, my lord," Baron Sigurd said, voice tight.

I slid off Zephyy’s back and stretched my sore shoulders. "Thank you, Baron. I hope everything was stable here while I was away."

Silence.

Nick exchanged a nervous glance with the Baron. The kind of silence that made my stomach tighten.

"...Baron?" I prompted, raising a brow. "Don’t tell me a part of my house burned down while I was away."

Baron Sigurd swallowed hard. "No, my lord. Nothing like that. It’s... about the stranger we found half-dead in the snow three days ago."

"Oh, right. That one." I frowned, trying to recall. "Did he wake up?"

Baron Sigurd nodded slowly. "Yes... and that’s the problem."

"Problem?"

He hesitated, then said gravely, "Because that man... is Second Prince Caelum."

I blinked. Then blinked again.

"...You mean the Second Prince?"

"The very same."

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. "W—wait. That royal? What is he doing here?"

Before Baron could answer, a smooth, too-familiar voice rolled across the courtyard.

"Oh... Leif ..."

We all turned.

There he was—Second Prince Caelum himself, looking annoyingly uninjured for someone who was supposedly half-dead in the snow. His black hair caught the light like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial, and that faint smile on his lips screamed trouble .

He started walking toward me—no, gliding —like he’d rehearsed this moment in front of a mirror. "I was waiting for you, my Ki —"

Before he could finish whatever nickname-from-the-depths-of-flirtation he had planned, Alvar stepped smoothly between us, all protective elegance and quiet danger.

" Second Prince Caelum ," Alvar said, his tone colder than a northern blizzard here.

Caelum stopped dead. His expression flickered—surprise, then amusement.

"...Ah," he murmured, eyes darting between us. "So, you’re here too."

"This is where I belong and... Let’s talk. Privately," Alvar said, every syllable like a command.

Caelum raised an eyebrow. "So stern. I remember you being less... frosty."

Alvar’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Times change."

Caelum chuckled under his breath. "Apparently so."

Then he turned his gaze back to me—something unreadable glinting behind that calm, princely smile. "See you soon, Leif."

And just like that, the two of them walked inside the estate—leaving me, Nick, Baron Sigurd, and a very smug-looking Zephyy staring after them.

I blinked once. Twice. "...Did that man just call me my Ki-something?"

Nick coughed. "Sounded like it."

Baron Sigurd looked like he wanted to retire immediately.

Zephyy tilted his head. "Master, he looks like some kind of angel. Is he an angel descendant?"

I squinted at the black-haired royal now disappearing inside the estate. "If he is, then that explains the hair, the glow, and the holy-level drama. But honestly? He gives me more fallen angel with trust issues vibes."

Zephyy snorted a puff of smoke. "Fallen angel? He...really seems like it."

I groaned. "The last thing I need is another royal calling me pet names. One elf and Dwarves with emotional trauma is enough."

But as the doors closed behind them, I couldn’t shake the chill crawling down my spine.

The Second Prince—the one rumored to be arrogant and power-hungry and accused of killing his own brother, Crown Prince Arden, in the novel—was here. In my home.

And judging by that look in his eyes... He wasn’t here by accident.

***

[Alvar’s POV—Inside Thorenvald Estate—Meeting Room]

The air inside the room felt colder than the snow outside.

Caelum sat by the fire, posture relaxed, a faint smile curving his lips. But his eyes—those sharp, green-amber eyes—didn’t smile. They watched, measured... dissected. I closed the door behind us. The soft click echoed like a promise—or a warning.

"Your Highness," I began evenly, arms crossing over my chest. "You must have a very good reason for turning up half-dead on my fiancé’s doorstep."

Caelum stared and chuckled lowly, brushing a strand of black hair away from his face. "Always straight to the point, aren’t you, Grand Duke Alvar?"

"Years of survival instinct," I said flatly. "Now, answer the question."

He turned to the fire. Shadows danced over his sharp features, softening nothing. "I wasn’t supposed to survive," he said quietly. "The assassins who came for me were sent from within the palace."

"Convenient story," I replied. "Especially from a man accused of sending his own assassins to murder the crown prince."

That earned a humorless laugh. "You think I wanted Crown Prince Arden dead?"

"I think you didn’t deny it," I countered. "And considering every piece of evidence points to you, you should be grateful you weren’t executed for treason."

He smiled again—thin, razor-edged. "You’ve always been loyal, haven’t you, Grand duke? Even now, guarding him like a wolf with a wounded mate."

My gaze hardened. "Watch your words, Your Highness. Now—what business do you have with Leif? Because I won’t let anyone—especially a fallen prince—meddle around him with ill intent."

Caelum’s smirk deepened, lazy yet cutting. "So protective... and so fierce, Grand Duke. No wonder Leif fell for you."

My hand curled into a fist before I could stop it. "That," I said tightly, "is none of your concern. Stop circling and speak plainly—what business do you have with my fiancé?"

He stared and then he smirked, asking, "So... have you not read the book given to you by the priest yet, Grand duke?"

I froze. My pulse stilled.

How... how does he know about the book? It was given to me secretly—in a sealed chamber, away from every eye and ear. Priest Caldric had sworn it was a message meant only for me and Leif.

So how did he—

"...How do you know about that?"

He leaned back in the chair, one leg crossing over the other with unhurried grace. "Let’s just say the priest and I have... mutual acquaintances. But that book—you haven’t opened it yet, have you?"

My jaw tightened. "Answer me, Caelum. What do you know about Leif?"

He ignored my question entirely. "I cannot say more. Not until my king acknowledges me."

"Your king?" I frowned. "Are you referring to your father? The Emperor?"

Caelum’s eyes flared with something fierce, unyielding. "I have cut all ties with the imperial family, Grand duke. I have no business either with that family or that Empire." he snapped. His tone was sharp enough to draw blood.

I stared at him, stunned. "Then who—"

He rose abruptly, turning toward the tall window. Beyond the frosted glass, Leif stood in the courtyard, speaking to Nick and Baron, light glinting off his hair like sunlight on snow.

"I am here," Caelum said softly, almost reverently, "to serve my real king and to be acknowledged by him."

My blood ran cold.

"What are you implying?"

He didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed on Leif, a strange reverence flickering in his expression—something between devotion and awe.

My heart thudded painfully.

Real king. No. That couldn’t be—

Caelum turned, the firelight catching the edges of his smile. "You should read that book soon, Grand Duke. Before the world remembers who it truly belongs to."

Then, without another word, he left—his cloak trailing through the smoke-scented air.

The door shut softly behind him.

I stood frozen, breath uneven.

King? Leif?

He was supposed to be a High Saint after awakening the dragon—a healer, a miracle worker.I know that Leowen stole his power... maybe she’s the reason Leif’s gifts remain sealed.

But now... a king?

What kind of king is the Second Prince talking about?

For the first time in years, I felt it—the faint, electric chill of destiny shifting beneath my feet.It was as if some ancient myth, long buried and forgotten, was beginning to stir again.

I need to read that book.