"Brother, don't you fancy that lovely maiden from Donalton Family?" Bener asked, his tone laced with mischief and wine.

Galahad did not answer. His silence said more than words ever could.

"Oh, he does," Gideon cut in with a grin that spoke of both mischief and certainty. "He just won't admit it. I've seen that look before—the way his gaze lingers on her. It's the same look Asael gives our dear sister-in-law when he thinks no one's watching. The same tenderness Father shows Mother even after years together. And didn't he go storming to her rescue not too long ago?"

"How about Alaric?" Asael asked, raising a brow. "Why not include him in your observations?"

"Ah, Alaric," Gideon said with a dramatic sigh, his hands gesturing in exaggerated flourish. "Now there's a man hopelessly ensnared. His eyes—usually colder than the Northern Sea—turn bright as starlight the moment Lara looks his way. And that stoic face of his, carved from ice and pride, melts into something almost human… even charming, whenever our dear sister smiles."

Bener's brows shot up, though amusement glimmered in his eyes. "Careful, brother. Are you slandering the emperor?"

"Slander?" Gideon laughed, spreading his hands in mock innocence. "No, I'm merely describing my brother-in-law—with all due accuracy."

Their laughter echoed beneath the shady tree. Galahad, unmoved by their teasing, raised his goblet with quiet dignity. Yet as the crimson wine touched his lips, his gaze betrayed him—it lingered on the woman in the yellow gown walking toward the Lotus Garden, her soft laughter carried by the afternoon breeze. The sunlight caught the folds of her dress, turning the yellow silk into liquid gold.

"Brother, if you like her, go and make your intentions known," Bener urged, stepping beside him and clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Then I can finally wed Shaya without Mother breathing down my neck about you not being married yet."

"Stop talking nonsense," Galahad muttered, though the edge in his voice was thinner than he liked.

"Bener is not talking nonsense," Asael chimed in from the other side, leaning forward to follow Galahad's line of sight. His eyes lit with amusement when he saw where it led. "Ah… so that's who has your attention. Rowana."

Galahad stiffened.

"Don't glare at me, brother," Asael said with a sly smile. "I'm only warning you. If you don't act soon, someone else will. Wasn't it you, Bener, who said Duke Kasmeri's been eyeing her lately?"

The provocation landed perfectly.

"What?" Galahad turned sharply. "What did you just say?"

"I said," Asael drawled, savoring every syllable, "that Duke Kasmeri seems rather interested in Rowana."

A heartbeat of silence. Then Galahad walked to the stone table abruplty, setting his goblet down with a sharp clink. "Excuse me, brothers. There's something I must attend to."

Without another word, he strode away, his boots striking the cobbled path as he made for the Lotus Garden.

Bener elbowed Asael, grinning. "Tell me, is Kasmeri truly interested in her?"

"Of course not," Asael replied with a chuckle. "Kasmeri prefers mature and strong women. I only said it to stir our stoic brother a bit. Seems it worked perfectly."

Gideon, still seated at the stone bench, glanced up from the board game in front of him. "Where did Galahad rush off to? It's his turn to roll the dice." Across from him, the twins Percival and Peridur waited expectantly, dice in hand.

"He went to play hero for the love of his life," Asael said smiling slyly and pouring himself another drink.

Another bout of warm laughter rippled through the group. It was a rare thing these days—to have all the Norse brothers gathered in one place. Since Alaric's ascension to the throne, they had scattered across the three territories. Galahad had remained in Northem beside Gideon; Bener made his temporary home in Estalis; and the twins kept residence at Helian Manor in Calma with their parents.

These reunions had grown precious—a handful of days snatched from duty and distance. In three months' time, they would meet again in Arista, at Asael's estate, to celebrate the first birthday of his firstborn.

But today, as laughter and bantering filled the air, one of them had gone chasing something rarer still—love.

Galahad's boots struck softly against the cobblestones as he slowed his pace, the laughter of his brothers fading behind him. His pulse had not yet steadied. He told himself he came only for a walk—to clear his head from the din of wine and jest—but even he could not believe that lie.

Ahead, by the lotus pond, Rowana stood. The yellow gown she wore earlier caught the sunlight, turning her into something almost ethereal—gold spun into quiet grace. Her friend had already drifted elsewhere, leaving her alone by the water's edge, gazing at the fish that swam under the water.

"A penny for your thoughts, My Lady," Galahad said at last, his voice lower than he intended.

She turned, startled for a heartbeat, then smiled—a soft, knowing curve of her lips that made his chest tighten. "General Galahad. What brings you here? I thought you would still be with your brothers."

"They talk too much," he replied.

She laughed lightly. "Then you must be the quiet one."

"So they tell me." He stopped beside her, keeping a careful distance, though his every sense strained toward her. "Forgive the intrusion. I only wished to ensure you found your way safely, and no one bullied you again."

Her eyes glimmered with amusement. "A chivalrous excuse, then?"

He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Perhaps."

For a time, neither spoke. The afternoon sounds filled the silence—the ripple of water, the faint rustle of leaves. It was a silence that felt neither awkward nor forced, but alive, as if the garden itself held its breath between them.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"Just getting some fresh air and get some warmth," he replied.

Her gaze lingered on him, thoughtful. "And have you found warmth here, General?"

He looked at her then—truly looked—and for once did not hide behind the coldness. "I think I have."

Rowana's eyes widened just slightly, the color rising in her cheeks even in the pale light. She turned away, pretending to study the water lilies floating on the pond. "You shouldn't say such things so easily," she murmured. "A lady might believe them."

"I would rather be believed," he said softly, "than doubted."

A gentle breeze stirred the lotus blossoms, carrying their fragrance around them. Rowana drew in a breath, as if gathering her composure, and then smiled—a smile both tender and uncertain.

Galahad extended his hand which he kept hidden behind him. In it was a red rose which he plucked along the way.

"For the beautiful lady, I cannot forget," he said hoarsely.

Rowana accepted the flower and inhaled its scent.

"Thank you," she said quietly, cheeks flushed. "Can you stay with me a little longer, General Galahad? So I may decide for myself what to believe."

He smiled and it softened his battle-hardened feature. "If you are willing, I can stay beside you for the rest of my life."

"I am willing!" Rowana answered without hesitation.