[BL] Rules Of Desire: His Majesty's Secret
Chapter 52 - 50: The Weights of His Return

Chapter 52: Chapter 50: The Weights of His Return

Then, without another word, her form shimmered, like smoke caught in a gust of wind, and disappeared into the torch-lit darkness.

Kaelith stepped outside the chamber, his face unreadable. The air around him was still thick with the weight of the Priestess’s final words.

He looked at the group waiting just outside Hale, Elion, Lysaro, and the knights.

"We’re heading back to Zarethrone," he said calmly.

No one dared to question him. Whatever the Priestess had told him remained unspoken. But the look in Kaelith’s eyes was enough to silence any curiosity. Wordlessly, the group began preparations.

As they mounted their horses and set off, Elion stretched his arms and let out a dramatic sigh.

"Home. I’ve missed Zarethrone."

Lysaro glanced sideways. "Liar. You don’t miss the kingdom, you miss bossing around the castle guards."

Elion smirked. "A man’s gotta have hobbies."

Their playful banter earned a few soft laughs from the knights, easing the tension of the journey.

Hale, riding beside Kaelith, reached over and gently tapped his arm. "Are you alright?"

Kaelith nodded once, eyes fixed ahead. "I’m fine."

They rode for hours under a sun that slowly dipped westward, casting long shadows across the path. Along the way, they stopped briefly in a quiet valley where the grass was soft and the stream cold and clear. Jokes were shared, bread passed around, and for a brief moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

By late evening, the group found a calm clearing just off the road, where the trees shielded them from the sun and the sound of running water could be heard nearby. It was quiet, peaceful, even if only for a short while.

They set up a modest camp, ate in silence, and rested under the swaying trees.

Elion tossed a small stone across the grass, sighing. "I still say I missed Zarethrone. Not just the palace, the wine too."

Lysaro raised an eyebrow. "You’re more likely missing the tavern girls."

Even Hale chuckled softly.

But Kaelith barely smiled.

He sat apart, back against a tree trunk, watching the sky shift to evening. Hale glanced at him now and then but didn’t speak. He had learned when to give Kaelith space, and this was one of those times.

By nightfall, the group retired to their respective tents. Kaelith and Hale shared theirs, as expected. Inside, the flickering torchlight cast soft shadows on the fabric walls. Hale undressed slowly, folding his travel-worn tunic beside his pack, before lying beside Kaelith, who hadn’t said much since they stopped.

Kaelith lay on his back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling of the tent.

He was too quiet.

Hale shifted beside him and placed a hand gently on Kaelith’s chest. "You’re thinking too hard again."

Kaelith didn’t respond at first. Then he murmured, "Do you think people can truly forgive anything?"

Hale tilted his head. "I think... if the love is real, yes. Eventually."

Kaelith gave a soft hum that didn’t sound convinced. He turned his face away, but Hale’s hand remained on his chest.

The words of the Priestess echoed in his mind.

>"If you are to sleep on this talisman together, you must forgive him, no matter what he does to you in the future. If you cannot, you will destroy the kingdom."

He hadn’t told Hale about it. He couldn’t.

Not when Hale had waited for so long believing the night we reach Zarethrone would be the night their bond would finally deepen.

He remembered the way Hale’s eyes had lit up when he promised, "Once we return from Zarethrone, I’ll take you to my bed."

That promise had stayed with Hale. Kaelith could feel it in the way he reached for him now. The unspoken hope. The quiet yearning.

But Kaelith’s heart was torn.

He didn’t know what the truth would be, or what Hale might do, or what he might be. And yet, the bond between them had already formed. He felt it.

Still, the Priestess’s warning was like a dagger in his thoughts. The cost of unforgiveness... the risk of destruction...

Hale turned slightly, resting his head closer to Kaelith’s shoulder. "You don’t have to carry it alone, you know. Whatever it is... I’m here for you.

Kaelith looked at him and gently brushed a strand of hair from Hale’s forehead.

"I hope I never have to forgive you for something unforgivable, he thought. Because I don’t know if I’ll have the strength."

But all he said was, "Sleep. We have a long road tomorrow."

Hale nodded, curling into his side.

And Kaelith lay awake long after, eyes wide open in the dark, holding the talisman in his hand, knowing that tonight might be the last moment of peace before everything began to change.

In the morning, the group resumed their journey back to Zarethrone. The golden light of dawn spilled over the horizon, casting long shadows across the path as they rode in silence. The air was cool, the sky cloudless, and the rhythm of hooves on dirt offered a strange kind of comfort after the weight of their time in Khasidar.

Kaelith rode ahead, his expression unreadable. The talisman from the Priestess was tucked safely beneath his cloak, pressing lightly against his chest, an unspoken reminder of what still lingered in his thoughts. Hale followed closely behind him, silent but alert, stealing glances at the prince from time to time. Elion and Lysaro brought up the rear, occasionally trading short, quiet words.

They rode through meadows and over rolling hills. Birds scattered overhead. Villagers along the roads bowed in respect as they passed. Hours slipped by, and the sun climbed higher, bringing with it warmth and weariness.

Midday came and went. They stopped only briefly to rest and water their horses near a small stream, the tension of returning home sitting heavy on each of them in different ways.

Kaelith had not spoken much since morning, and the others respected the silence. Even Elion, who usually had something sharp to say, kept to himself. Hale noticed Kaelith’s grip tightening around his reins more than once, but he said nothing. He knew the prince’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

By dusk, the familiar landscape of Zarethrone came into view, the tall spires of the palace rising in the distance like watchful sentinels. The sun hung low, staining the sky in orange and rose.

And finally, just as the last of the day’s light began to fade, the group approached the great gates of Zarethrone. The guards at the entrance straightened at the sight of the returning party, saluting immediately as the gates began to open with a slow, echoing creak.

They had made it home.

As the gates of Zarethrone swung open, the people within caught sight of the royal party returning. Word spread quickly, first among the guards, then to the servants, and soon through the bustling city streets like wildfire.

"The Prince has returned!"

Voices rang out. Children ran barefoot through stone alleys, shouting the news to one another. Merchants paused mid-sale, farmers lifted their heads from their carts, and nobles peered from their balconies. Bells tolled from the tower near the palace square, a signal of celebration and safety.

The Kingdom of Zarethrone rejoiced.

Trumpets sounded, and flower petals were scattered from upper windows. The people poured into the streets, cheering and waving their clothes in the air. For many, the Prince’s return meant more than peace, it meant hope.

At once, a messenger sprinted ahead, weaving past the guards and up the palace steps with urgency. Without waiting to catch his breath, he bowed before the King’s chamber and announced:

"Your Majesty, the Crown Prince has returned. They’ve all returned safely."

The King, seated on his throne, slowly stood. His weathered face showed no dramatic emotion, but his eyes, sharp and thoughtful, betrayed a flicker of relief.

"Prepare the hall," he said quietly. "And summon the council. Tonight, we listen to what the Prince has brought back with him."

Kaelith and the others dismounted from their horses just outside the palace gates. The sun cast a golden hue over Zarethrone’s towering spires, and the breeze carried with it the scent of blooming roses from the palace gardens.

The people bowed low as the prince passed, murmuring prayers of thanks and praise. Elion, Lysaro, Hale, and the knights followed closely behind him, their armor and cloaks dusted from the long journey, yet their posture was proud.

Despite the exhaustion clinging to their bodies, there was no time to rest.

The palace doors opened wide.

With solemn grace, Kaelith led the way inside, straight to the Grand Hall where the King’s court had already gathered. Nobles, generals, advisors, and elders of the land stood in a wide arc, all eyes fixed on him. The King himself waited upon the throne, calm but expectant.

Kaelith walked with purpose, every step echoing across the marble floor. The chamber was silent, no whispers, no rustling, just the quiet breath of anticipation.

Everyone had assembled. Everyone was waiting.

The prince had returned from Khasidar.

And now... they would hear what he had brought back.