Twin brothers Frei and Qionne are separated by a cursed mirror. The younger is forced to shoulder the burden of the throne, while the older must learn to have courage and return to his world. In their wake is an empire at the brink of war, and a dar...
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Qionne laughed. It wasn't the hysterical chortle one would hear after a good joke. Rather, it was the kind of guffaw one did when they thought of something ridiculous.
His laughter was short-lived as he took in the grim expression on Alastair and Sola's face. He curled his fingers into the sheets and bit his lip. The prince knew that war was not a joking matter. Tension among kingdoms had been a common thing throughout his childhood, but death of massive scales was something he could never trivialize.
That's why you left. That's why you ran away.
"You must've pissed off the Elfeinne Rune Guard a whole lot if he was able to summon an Unseelie Queen." Sola shook her head. She turned to Alastair. "Why's Salazar still the rune guard by the way? Shouldn't the contract expire when the Rune Meister is dead?"
Qionne shot her a dirty look.
"Must you be so tactless, Sola?" Alastair groaned, rubbing his temples. He answered her question anyway. "A rune guard's status expires once the Meister's heir completes the Rites and elects his personal rune guard."
"Oh," Sola tapped a finger to her lip in thought.
Alastair sighed. He gave his attention back to Qionne. "And I know what you're trying to do, Qionne--"
"No, you don't-"
"--you're trying to find a way to Arcadia." Alastair finished, eyes challenging the prince. "You think I didn't know about you stealing the Arcane Histories from the Eldra's library?"
Alastair threw a dark red satchel on the bed, few ancient scrolls sliding out of the opening. Qionne's eyes widened with panic, quickly gathering the parchments and shoving them back into the bag.
"Or the old maps of Arcana from the aristocrats' houses?"
The mage threw a few smaller scrolls from his inner coat pocket.
"Or thisjournal the late king clearly stated to be kept locked in the Ebonite?"
Alastair pulled a small, leather bound journal from his pocket. The front cover had the childish scrawling of a sun. It was Frei's diary.
Qionne's gaze narrowed to slits, "Where did you get this?"
"We've known each other since we were kids, your highness." Alastair let out an exasperated breath. "I'd know about Frei's fascination about mythical lands and heroes as much as you did."
The prince crossed his arms, his cheeks puffing as he looked to the side in anger and embarrassment. Suddenly he seemed like he was eight years old again. The image only made Alastair want to bonk him in the head.
Gratefully, the princess did that for him.
"Ow!"
"So, this is the reason why you made the Order of the Hood?!" Sola nagged at him, hands placed on her hips as she stood from her seat. "All that garbage about being thieves of honor to help the people! Robin Hood this! Robin Hood that! But that's just so you could snoop into nobles' houses looking for the Artifacts, isn't it?!"
