The heavy golden tapestries of the eastern palace did nothing to block the freezing mountain draft from cursing through the walls, nor did they soothe the burning ache deep within Adrian's core.
Desperate and trembling from the lingering effects of the sacred nectar, the broken prince slipped out of the master chambers while Thoris was away reviewing the warriors at the training camps.
Adrian dragged his weak, aching limbs through the cold marble corridors until he reached the private study of Vikra, Thoris's older brother and the sole chief advisor of the Steppes.
"Vikra... please," Adrian gasped, stumbling into the room and catching himself against the edge of a heavy mahogany desk. His voice was stripped of all its former royal dignity and pride. It was now replaced by a ragged, breathless panic.
"You have to speak to him. You have to talk to Thoris. He is–.... he is forcing my body to change. He is putting me through hell to conceive. Please, Vikra....I implore you to make him stop. Please."
Vikra sat quietly behind his documents, casually dipping a quill into ink. He didn't even look up at the weeping prince. He merely let out a low, uncaring sigh and brushed him off with a wave of his hand.
"Isn't this what you also wanted for Cassian?" Vikra spoke, his voice completely flat and unbothered. "You wanted him neutralized, broken, and pushed out of the capital. Now feel it happening to you instead, prince of Valemont. Feel the pain you wanted to inflict to your own brother."
Adrian flinched, a cold dread washing over him. "Vikra, I am the crown lineage—"
"And besides, Thoris is technically your husband and your marriage will be official after the ceremony in a month. And besides I have no say with how you two manage your intimate affairs along with your sister. You all should figure it out amongst yourselves."
"Vikra please, at least try. Just once please or else Thoris will end up killing me."
"Oh well, my brother is only throwing a tantrum because he was denied Cassian, and was given you instead," Vikra interrupted, finally raising his sharp eyes to glare at Adrian. "He won't listen to me. In fact, right now, he doesn't even want to see me because of how the treaty between our families was handled. So trust me, if it was truly that easy, then I would have also loved for Cassian to be the one here instead of you. That's just how important he is to this kingdom's future. You are simply a proxy prize, Adrian. So deal with it. Your dirty schemes led you here."
*****
Defeated and hollow, Adrian dragged his heavy feet back down the long corridors to his designated chambers.
The barbarian kingdom was staggeringly rich. Everywhere he looked, there was immense, overwhelming luxury—piles of glittering gold coins, plates filled with expensive, rare spices from the southern trade routes, and walls lined with soft, priceless furs. By all accounts, he was living in a palace of abundance.
But Adrian didn't belong here. The gold felt heavy, the spices tasted like ash, and the rare furs offered no warmth to his shivering frame. He felt entirely, profoundly empty.
Just then, Adrian pushed open the heavy wooden doors of his chambers, where Princess Elyria was quietly stitching a heavy wolf pelt. The moment the door clicked shut, Adrian's remaining emotional walls completely collapsed along with his knees.
A raw, agonizing cry tore from his throat as his knees buckled, sending him sliding down against the stone wall.
For the very first time in her life, the princess was seeing her former, fiercely arrogant crowned prince brother in a completely new light. The cold, untouchable wall of pride he had worn for years was instantly gone, leaving behind a fragile, broken boy.
Elyria dropped her stitching and rushed over to the floor, wrapping her arms tightly around his trembling shoulders. "Adrian... oh, gods, Adrian..."
She comforted him, pulling his head against her chest, and for once, Adrian didn't push her away. The fierce isolation of the Steppes had stripped them of their royal titles, leaving them with only each other. They clung to one another in the middle of the luxurious room, sharing their grief.
"I was so blind, Elyria," Adrian choked out, his tears soaking into her furs as the burning heat of the nectar throbbed in his lower belly. "I treated Cassian like an anomaly... a threat to my future. I wanted him gone. And now... now I understand what it means to be utterly helpless."
"You didn't know that things would turn out like this Adrian, you were merely out rooting the competition for the throne. Isn't that pretty normal during any succession brother?" Elyria whispered softly, rocking him back and forth.
"Then being the loser of the succession war I created is utterly agonizing. Now I am only realizing that I should have left Cassian alone while he was still a drunkard jerk. I poked his nest and actually pushed him to get stronger to protect himself from me. And eventually he defeated me."
"I only saw the crown, nothing else but the Crown and that has only made us all miserable."
Adrian wiped his eyes, a sudden, desperate clarity hitting his mind through the fog of his hormones. He looked up at his sister, his hands tightly gripping her wrists. "I need to reach out to him Elyria. I have to find a way to send a message to the capital... to apologize to Cassian. I need his protection from Thoris and only him can push that barbarian to a corner. He is the only person powerful enough to rewrite this treaty. If he doesn't save me, Thoris will ensure that I never leave these mountains alive."
"We will figure out a way. Don't worry yourself to death my brother."
*****