The first two days on the road were a study in discomfort and subtle maneuvering. The pace was brisk, dictated by Riven's necessity to keep the supply wagons on schedule, and the accommodations were rough—a far cry from the Prince's silk sheets. Vaelorian, despite his official title, handled the inconvenience with surprising good humor, often helping Riven's men break camp.
Sir Eryndor, however, was not easily fooled.
He watched Vaelorian not as a bodyguard watches his charge, but as a skeptical older brother watches a lovesick sibling. He watched the way Vaelorian always rode slightly behind Riven, close enough for a private conversation but far enough to avoid suspicion. He watched the Prince's gaze constantly seek Riven out, whether Riven was barking orders at a mule driver or double-checking a ledger.
On the second night, while the logistical unit settled down around a crackling fire, Eryndor found Riven examining a map away from the main group.
Eryndor walked up, his steps silent, and stopped next to him, his arms crossed over his chest.
"A lot has changed while I was on the border, Lord Riven. The last time we saw each other you promised to castrate His Highness," he stated, his voice a low, steady rumble.
Riven didn't jump, but he did look up, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Welcome back, Sir Eryndor. Did you need to examine the route?"
"No," Eryndor said simply, his gaze direct and piercing. "I need to know why the Crown Prince is sleeping in a damp, linen tent instead of his luxurious chambers. And why he risked a shouting match with the Emperor just so he could inspect the Northern Regions."
Riven sighed, putting the map down. "I don't know what else you want me to say. I've already told you, he's here to inspect the supply lines. It's an Imperial decree."
Eryndor scoffed, the sound quiet but dismissive. "Don't insult my intelligence, Riven. Vaelorian knows nothing of the northern supply lines. He hasn't been concerned with a quartermaster's ledger or a treaty document since his engagement with princess Lyra. He's here because of you, isn't he?"
Riven leaned back against the wagon wheel, his arms crossed, his smile turning genuine.
"And if he is?"
Eryndor ran a hand over his face, a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration in his expression.
"He's the Crown Prince, My Lord! His engagement was successfully torpedoed barely a month ago because of you, that could've ended badly, by the way. And now he's riding into the hostile Northern Region of the empire on a fake inspection so he can accompany you for six weeks." He shook his head. "The audacity is astounding. I've been on your side since this started between you two; I even helped ruin his reputation just to sabotage his engagement, but I think he has taken things too far this time. He has lost his head."
"He hasn't lost his head, Sir Eryndor," Riven countered, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "He's actually using it for the first time in his life. He's choosing happiness over perfection."
Sir Eryndor paused, his expression shifting from professional bodyguard to concerned friend.
"I never liked the arrangement with Princess Lyra. She's what some people consider a political weasel. And I always respected you, Riven. Vaelorian would have been miserable with her. I'm grateful that he can be himself with you but this...this is a dangerous mission, especially for Vaelorian. Does the Emperor and Empress know about you two?"
"Yes, they know. It wasn't easy to convince them." Riven admitted. "A lot has happened while you were away. But I'm sure you also know that, sabotaging engagement wasn't just Vaelorian's plan to save himself; it was his plan to save the empire."
Eryndor stared at Riven, absorbing his words. He was afraid that Vaelorian's impulsive decision to sabotage his engagement would cause a political scandal. What made things worse was that Eryndor was sent on a mission in the middle of all the drama, preventing him from helping Vaelorian to the end. Thankfully, everything worked out.
"Well, I'm here now," Eryndor finally said, his tone low and serious. "And I will guard him with my life, regardless of the reason for this mission. But Riven, since you've decided to be with him again, you are now officially a part of his world, the dangers and royal politics included. You are not just his lover; you are his weakness. Or perhaps," he amended, a rare, thoughtful look on his face, "his greatest strength. Just make sure you never forget what he's risking to be out here with you."
Riven offered a silent, solemn nod. "I won't."
He was glad Sir Eryndor knows the truth about them. There was no need for pretense with Vaelorian's most trusted friend and bodyguard. Now, with Eryndor's sharp eyes on both of them, the charade of the "Imperial Inspection" has become a team effort to maintain appearances and, more importantly, to keep the Crown Prince safe.