The grand dining room of the Halvorn townhouse felt impossibly secure after so many days spent in the wilderness. Gregory savored each bite of the hearty stew placed before him, barely registering the conversation swirling around him until Lord Eldon's voice cut through his reverie.
"Your Highness, we must discuss your return to court," Eldon said, his weathered face grave in the candlelight. "The situation has grown far more precarious than you might realize."
Bryce nodded, setting down his spoon. Despite the short haircut and commoner's clothes, he had already begun to carry himself with the regal bearing that seemed impossible to fully disguise. "Tell me everything, Lord Halvorn. Hold nothing back."
Eldon exchanged a glance with his son Taren before continuing. "In your absence, the balance of power has shifted dramatically. Your father still sits upon the throne, but he is a shadow of his former self. He rarely appears in public, seldom attends council meetings."
"And my mother?" Bryce asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"The queen has become... formidable," Eldon replied delicately. "She commands the loyalty of half the court, and her influence grows daily."
Gregory watched Bryce's face carefully, noting the flicker of concern in his eyes. The prince had confided his suspicions to Gregory during their journey – that someone close to the throne might have orchestrated his disappearance. His own mother was certainly close enough.
"And what of my cousin Fulton?" Bryce asked.
Eldon's expression darkened. "Lord Fulton has positioned himself as the heir apparent. With you presumed dead and your father without another son, he has made a compelling case for himself as the next in line."
"Has my father acknowledged his claim?" Bryce's knuckles whitened around his goblet.
"Not officially," Taren interjected. "But the king has few options. The nobles grow restless without a clear succession plan, especially with war on the horizon."
"War?" Gregory spoke up, drawing all eyes to him. "With the Otagin?"
Eldon nodded gravely. "After the prince's caravan was attacked and His Highness was presumed killed by Otagin raiders, public sentiment turned strongly against them. The queen has been particularly vocal about the need for retribution."
"It wasn't the Otagin," Bryce said quietly. "At least, not officially. The men who attacked us were renegades, not acting on tribal orders."
"That distinction may be lost now, Your Highness," Eldon sighed. "The narrative has been established: the Crown Prince was murdered by Otagin savages, and Comer must respond with force."
Bryce pushed away from the table, pacing the length of the room. "This is worse than I feared. A needless war, my father incapacitated, and Fulton circling like a vulture." He ran a hand through his cropped hair. "We need to act quickly."
"What do you propose, Your Highness?" Eldon asked.
Bryce turned, his expression resolute. "I need to reclaim my place, but I can't simply walk into the palace and announce my return. We need allies, people we can trust absolutely."
"Trust is in short supply these days," Taren said bitterly. "The court has become a nest of vipers, each faction seeking advantage."
"There must be someone," Gregory insisted. "People who were loyal to the prince before."
Eldon stroked his beard thoughtfully. "General Kaiden remains steadfast in his loyalty to the king. He commands the northern battalions and has resisted the queen's attempts to bring him under her influence."
"Kaiden," Bryce nodded. "Yes, he would stand with us. Who else?"
"Chancellor Merek," Taren suggested. "He was your tutor once, was he not? And he still holds considerable sway in the Council of Ministers."
"The chancellor is cautious," Eldon warned. "He would need convincing proof that you are who you claim to be."
"I can provide that," Bryce said confidently.
The discussion continued late into the night, with Eldon and Taren listing potential allies and enemies, mapping out the complex web of court politics that had evolved in Bryce's absence. Gregory listened attentively, gradually forming a picture of the precarious situation they faced.
As the candles burned low, Eldon's voice grew more somber. "There is one more thing you should know, Your Highness. The queen's personal guard has gradually replaced many of the king's own sentries. Your father is effectively surrounded by men whose ultimate loyalty may lie elsewhere."
Bryce stilled. "You're saying my father is a prisoner in his own palace?"
"Not officially," Eldon replied carefully. "But if Lord Fulton were to be named heir..." He let the implication hang in the air.
"The king would likely be found dead in his bed soon after," Taren finished bluntly. "And those sworn to protect him would claim it was his failing health, his broken heart over your loss."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Gregory watched as Bryce absorbed this grim assessment, the weight of it visible in the set of his shoulders.
"Then we have no time to waste," Bryce said finally. "We must secure allies quickly and reveal my survival before Fulton can cement his position."
"And what of the queen?" Gregory asked quietly. The question that had been hovering unspoken all evening.
Bryce's eyes met his, and Gregory saw the conflict there – the doubt, the pain, the reluctance to believe the worst of his own mother. "I will reserve judgment until I have proof," he said carefully. "But I will not be blind to any possibility."
Later, as they prepared for bed in the rooms Eldon had provided, Gregory found himself alone with Bryce for the first time since entering the city.
"You suspect your mother, don't you?" he asked bluntly. "Of using magic to trap us in that desert."
Bryce sighed, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. "I don't want to believe it. But she was always... ambitious. And there were rumors, when I was a child, about her family having connections to the old ways."
"The old ways?" Gregory prompted.
"Magic," Bryce clarified. "Not openly, of course. That would have been suicidal. But there were whispers that her lineage wasn't as 'pure' as the official records claimed."
Gregory considered this. "If she does have magical abilities, and if she orchestrated your disappearance, revealing yourself could put you in grave danger."
"I'm already in grave danger," Bryce said with a wry smile. "But what choice do I have? I can't allow Fulton to usurp my birthright, can't let my father remain a puppet, can't stand by while the kingdom marches to war against the wrong enemy."
"No," Gregory agreed. "You can't."
Bryce looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, you could leave. Take some gold, make your way to another kingdom. There's no reason for you to remain entangled in this dangerous game."
Gregory was surprised to find that the idea held no appeal. Somewhere along their harrowing journey, his fate had become intertwined with Bryce's. Whether it was loyalty, friendship, or simply the thrill of being part of something momentous, he couldn't say.
"I'm staying," he said firmly. "Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't get yourself killed. Again."
Bryce laughed, some of the tension leaving his face. "Fair enough. Though I should warn you – my record of keeping traveling companions safe is rather poor."
"I'll take my chances," Gregory replied with a grin. "Now get some rest, Your Highness. Tomorrow we begin the task of reclaiming your throne."
As he lay in bed that night, listening to Bryce's steady breathing from the adjacent room, Gregory found himself reflecting on the strange turns his life had taken. He had fled his homeland to escape trouble, only to land squarely in the middle of a royal conspiracy that threatened an entire kingdom.
Yet despite the danger, despite the near-certainty that worse challenges lay ahead, Gregory felt more alive than he had in years. He had found purpose in this unlikely alliance with a prince who defied death, a purpose that transcended his own petty concerns.
Whatever came next – whether triumph or disaster – at least he would no longer be running from his past. Instead, he would be facing the future alongside a friend who might just change the fate of the kingdom.
With that comforting thought, Gregory closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep, the first truly peaceful rest he'd had in months.
