Chapter 72: MY.

A sharp inhale caught in his throat.

“Hk—!” Ezra coughed lightly, turning his face away for a second. “No, my apologies.”

Aurien blinked at him, tilting his head slightly. His eyes were wider than usual.

“Are you… alright?”

Ezra tried to answer and ended up inhaling wrong again.

Ezra choked on air.

He actually…choked on air.

ON AIR.

WHO DOES THAT?

Him, apparently.

“Ahem.”

Ezra cleared his throat again.

It did absolutely nothing.

If anything, it only made him more aware of how warm his ears felt. His face probably matched.

’This is humiliating,’ he thought. ’How many times must I embarrass myself in front of Prince Aurien of all people?’

He had faced Dark Ones without flinching. Commanded men twice his size without hesitation. Stood before kings, nobles, and enemies alike without lowering his gaze.

Even when Helios had thrown those dangerously affectionate compliments at him, the worst that had happened was a faint flush. A manageable one. Contained.

And yet here he was.

Choking on air.

Because of a smile.

Because of a few careful, considerate words.

Considerate words that felt suspiciously like flirting.

’But are they flirting?’ he questioned. ’Why would Aurien flirt with me?’

The thought alone made his pulse jump again.

With Helios, teasing had always been simple. Familiar.

Even when there were… complicated feelings buried beneath the surface, it never felt destabilizing.

This?

This felt like stepping onto unfamiliar ground without armor. Without preparation.

Aurien’s eyes were still fixed on him.

Concerned.

Genuinely concerned.

“Captain?” Aurien asked softly.

That did not help.

It made everything worse.

’I have survived childbirth,’ Ezra reminded himself firmly. ’I have survived war. Why is this what defeats me?’

He straightened, forcing his shoulders back, dragging his composure over himself like a cloak.

“I am fine,” he said, his voice finally steady. “It appears I momentarily forgot how to breathe.”

Aurien’s lips twitched, but he did not laugh.

“So I knocked the air out of you?” he asked lightly.

Ezra nearly inhaled wrong again.

’Control. Yourself.’

He looked away, exhaling slowly through his nose.

It unsettled him how easily Aurien’s words slipped past years of discipline. Years of restraint. He had trained his body to endure pain. His mind to remain sharp under pressure.

None of that had prepared him for this version of Aurien.

Confident.

Considerate.

Infuriatingly charming.

’When did he learn to speak like that?’ Ezra wondered. ’And why does it work so well?’

Aurien seemed to catch onto something in Ezra’s silence.

His gaze softened.

He did not press further.

Did not tease him about choking.

Did not smirk.

Which somehow felt worse than if he had.

’He noticed,’ Ezra realized. ’He absolutely noticed.’

Aurien shifted his attention to the path ahead, giving Ezra a sliver of space to recover.

“Since you asked me two questions,” he said casually, as if Ezra had not just nearly combusted beside him, “may I ask you one?”

Ezra swallowed.

His composure was mostly restored.

Mostly.

“Yes,” he answered, nodding once.

’Ask me about the past. Ask me about missions. Ask me about my life. Ask something completely unrelated. Ask me anything that does not involve whatever just happened.’

He inhaled carefully this time.

“I will answer,” he added, quieter.

Aurien looked away from him.

The easy smile faded from his face, replaced by something quieter. More serious.

It happened so naturally that Ezra almost missed it.

“Tell me about the little kid,” Aurien said. “Lior, was it? I meant to ask this morning when we met, but the conversation shifted.”

The name hit him harder than he expected.

Ezra felt himself snap back into reality.

If that was even what he had been drifting in.

The warmth.

The ridiculous, fluttering, idiotic feeling inside him.

Gone.

Replaced with something colder.

Tighter.

’Why Lior?’ he thought immediately. ’Why now?’

His posture shifted before he consciously willed it to. Shoulders straightening. Expression smoothing.

The captain returned.

“What would you like to know, Your Highness?” Ezra asked evenly.

His voice was calm again. Measured.

He made sure of it.

He did not allow any discomfort to surface.

Aurien did not look accusatory.

He looked… curious.

“Anything,” Aurien replied. “How did you meet him? What is his history? Why did you decide to take him in?”

The questions were direct.

Not invasive.

But thorough.

’That is a lot of interest,’ Ezra noted. ’Too much?’

Normally, he would question it. Push back. Guard.

But Aurien had done nothing today except show consideration. Patience. Care.

It would be strange to respond with suspicion now.

Even if a part of him wanted to.

Ezra took a slow breath.

’Stick to the story,’ he reminded himself. ’The one that makes sense. The one that keeps him safe.’

“Lior is from the village I stayed in during those years,” Ezra began calmly. “I met him when he was about two.”

His voice did not waver.

“He was wandering the streets. His parents had apparently died in an accident. No one wanted the burden.”

He kept his eyes forward.

“He reminded me of myself.”

That part, at least, was not entirely false.

“I initially planned to find him a proper home,” Ezra continued. “But I… grew attached.”

He let out a small chuckle.

He could not quite tell if it was forced or genuine.

“I suppose I am not as immune to children as I once believed.”

He kept it light.

Careful.

“I plan to raise him well. To train him. To give him discipline, independence.” His voice softened, just a fraction. “A better life than the one I had.”

That, too, was true.

Aurien was quiet for a moment.

Then he looked at Ezra again.

His expression was different.

Not probing.

Sympathetic.

“That is admirable,” Aurien said softly. “I did once say it seemed unlike you to take in a child.”

’Yes. You did,’ Ezra thought. ’Everyone does.’

“Only because you always seemed to value solitude,” Aurien continued. “But I have no doubt that the boy will live a far better life with you.”

His gaze held steady.

“To have someone like you to guide him. To look up to.”

Something in Ezra’s chest tightened again.

Not from embarrassment this time.

From something heavier.

’You have no idea,’ he thought quietly.

He did not know whether Aurien meant it simply as praise.

Or if he understood how deeply that statement cut.

Ezra swallowed once.

“Honestly,” Aurien began lightly, though there was thought behind it now, “you might as well legally adopt him while you’re here. The two of you look identical. No one would ever doubt that you could be his—”

“I am not interested in having a child.”

Ezra said it too quickly.

Too sharply.

The words left him before he could soften them.

Aurien blinked. “Really?”

“I do not think parenthood is for me,” Ezra continued, forcing steadiness into his tone.

The sentence cut him the moment it settled in the air.

’That is a lie,’ he thought immediately.

Not for himself.

For Lior.

But saying it aloud felt wrong. Like he had just denied something sacred.

Like he had rejected his own son.

’Forgive me,’

he added silently, though Lior was nowhere near to hear it.

“I intend to be like Captain Aamon was,” Ezra went on, retreating into something practical. Safer. “To train him. To prepare him. Raise him to become a knight and then let him stand on his own. As I mentioned.”

He kept his gaze forward.

If he looked at Aurien, he might falter.

Aurien was quiet for a second.

“That sounds logical,” he admitted.

Then, softer, “But do you truly think that way?”

Ezra’s brows knit faintly. “What do you mean?”

Aurien did not look accusing. He did not sound skeptical.

He simply observed.

“It seems to me,” Aurien said carefully, “that you are not entirely certain that is what you want for him.”

The words did not carry judgment.

That almost made them worse.

Ezra opened his mouth.

“I—”

He was ready to deflect.

To deny.

To reinforce the narrative he had built.

But something caught in his throat.

’Was I too obvious?’ he asked himself.

“I–”

Before he could force an answer out, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“There you are.”

Both Ezra and Aurien turned.

Aurien’s eyes widened just slightly. “Brother Helios? Finished already?”

It was Helios.

He approached with his usual easy confidence, sunlight catching faintly in his hair. There was no tension in his expression, only mild curiosity.

Ezra instinctively stepped back half a pace and bowed.

He could hear the knights behind them shifting, following suit.

“Prince Helios,” Ezra greeted, voice smooth once more.

Helios smiled at him.

Softly.

And for a brief second, Ezra felt that old, familiar steadiness settle back into place.

’Saved,’ he thought.

Saved from answering.

Saved from examining something he was not ready to unravel.

But as he straightened, he could still feel Aurien’s earlier question lingering.

Helios walked closer to them, unhurried, hands loosely clasped behind his back.

From the corner of Ezra’s eye, he noticed movement. The other knights were passing them now in small groups, heading toward the open field.

He followed their direction with his gaze.

They were back.

The training grounds stretched out before them, wide and familiar. The stone platform stood tall at the center, and near it were the knights who had been assigned to retrieve the flag from Helios earlier.

Some were catching their breath.

Some were already recounting their failures.

The energy was different from the forest. Louder. Brighter.

“We finished rather early,” Helios said casually. “I did not make it too difficult for them. As long as they worked together, I let them claim the flag.”

Ezra almost smiled.

That was Helios.

Firm, but never cruel.

“Sounds like you,” Aurien replied with a light chuckle. “Merciful when cooperation is involved.”

Helios glanced at him with faint amusement before his gaze shifted.

To Ezra.

“How was your time with my captain?”

The word hit him first.

My.

Ezra’s eyes widened slightly before he could stop himself.

’My?’ he repeated inwardly.

What?

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