Veil of Ashes :Claimed by them

Several hours had passed since the singing trials began.

The imperial entertainment hall—if it could still be called that—reeked of wilted jasmine, stale perfume, and sweat-soaked nervousness. The velvety red curtains now hung like exhausted tongues. The polished marble gleamed less brightly, dulled by the weight of so many shuffling feet and frantic heartbeats. Somewhere in the background, a maid with a barely passable voice was still singing—something soft, trembling, and painfully long.

Zairen, seated beside Vaelor on the raised platform, slouched into the silken cushions like a man freshly slapped by destiny. His one boot was halfway off. His eye was twitching.

"Leave," he said, voice dry and cracking. "All of you. Again. I swear on my immortal ancestors, if I hear another note, I will jump out that stained-glass window and take three maids with me just to make it poetic."

The poor maid mid-song squeaked, bowed at a ninety-degree angle, and fled the room like a bat out of hell. Attendants, guards, singers—all dispersed. All except Louis.

Zairen began pacing, raking both hands through his hair. Vaelor didn't bother stopping him. He knew that walk. It was the walk of a man nearing his limit—one that Zairen had reached approximately five hundred maids ago.

Vaelor took a sip of wine and waited.

"You're seriously asking me what I'm doing?" Zairen spun to face him, brows lifted. "You. You—Vaelor-the-Iceberg—are asking me what I'm doing? Brother, please."

Vaelor shrugged. "You looked like you were summoning a storm."

"I am the storm," Zairen muttered, before returning to his frantic pacing. "Look, you and I—we've done weird things before. Real weird. Remember when we sneaked out of the palace to watch that traveling circus in disguise?"

Vaelor gave a slow nod. "You drugged the royal guards with sleeping tea to do it."

"Exactly!" Zairen snapped a finger. "And what about the time we used that illusion scroll to pretend we were one person and passed as a court mage for a whole day?"

"You made the Chancellor cry."

"I did," Zairen said with a touch of pride. "But even that wasn't as bizarre as this."

Vaelor raised a brow.

Zairen leaned in, voice dropping to a stage whisper. "I mean, when I heard you'd summoned all the palace maids to your private wing, I thought, oh, maybe he's finally cracked. Maybe our little Vaelor is staging a March of Naked Beauties, a feast for the eyes... or even better—a feast for the cocks." He gave a dramatic sigh. "And then... this."

He gestured at the now-empty space like it had personally betrayed him.

Vaelor's lips twitched. "Disappointed?"

"Disappointed? Brother, I felt cheated. If this was some grand sex gala, and you didn't invite me—your own brother—I thought, maybe he's gone noble all of a sudden. Maybe celibacy is a trend now. But no. It's worse. It's just... a choir from the underworld."

He stared into the middle distance like a man who'd stared into the abyss—and it sang off-key.

"Louis," Zairen barked, turning to Vaelor's ever-stoic personal guard. "Tell me. When was the last time this poor, lost soul got laid?"

Louis didn't even blink. He turned his head away with quiet disdain.

"That long, huh?" Zairen snorted. "Don't tell me the last was just that quick blowjob at the poolside party. Gods, Vaelor. That wasn't even good!"

Vaelor massaged his temple. "Zairen."

"I get it now," Zairen declared, snapping his fingers again. "You've gone feral. You need warm pussy. You need to be realigned, spiritually and physically. That's all this is. You're hunting for a voice, but what you really need is—"

"Stop," Vaelor said, raising a hand before Zairen could issue orders to Louis. "You're getting it all wrong."

"Am I?" Zairen gasped, hand to chest. "Then explain this parade of peasant screeching. Tell me this isn't the empire's latest top-secret mission. Are these songbirds our final weapon in case Father doesn't abdicate in the next decade?"

"No."

"Is it a loyalty test? Will the maid who hits the highest note be the next queen?"

"No."

"Is this all an elaborate punishment for that time I switched your bath salts with itching powder?"

"No—wait, that was you?"

Zairen grinned. "So you do remember!"

Vaelor sighed deeply. "Stop guessing. I'll tell you."

Zairen perked up, sitting down with a little bounce.

Vaelor leaned back, letting the heavy weight of memory settle on his chest. "A few nights ago, I couldn't sleep. My power was... unstable. Worse than usual. I went to the forest. Ran. I needed the sky, the air, anything."

Zairen's smirk faded slowly.

"And then I heard it," Vaelor continued. "A voice. Singing. Clear. Soft. It calmed the storm inside me. For the first time in years, I felt... peace."

Zairen blinked. "Wait, wait, wait—hold up. Are you saying a song—an actual song—calmed your hellfire tantrum?"

"Yes."

Zairen looked around the empty hall as if waiting for someone to come up and say he heard it all wrong "Are you sure you didn't dream it? Maybe you fell asleep and your soul drifted into some bard's wet dream?"

"I didn't dream it."

"But you were tired."

"Zairen."

"You know, sometimes when I'm exhausted and horny, I think I see two sets of breasts where there's only one—"

"Zairen."

"Fine, fine!" He raised both hands. "But this still makes no sense. You've scorched half the sparring yard on bad days. You nearly boiled the palace pool once. And now a melody makes your inferno purr like a kitten?"

Vaelor didn't respond.

Zairen stared at him for a long moment, then threw himself dramatically across the divan. "Gods above, just when I thought you couldn't get more dramatic than brooding in dark hallways... you've become a walking romance scroll. A prince soothed by song. Shall I fetch you a lute and a love letter?"

Vaelor gave him a look.

Zairen sighed. "Fine. Fine. I'll sit through this madness. Not because I believe in it. But because you're my idiot brother and I love you."

Vaelor didn't smile—but something in his eyes softened.

Zairen tilted his head. "But seriously. If I hear one more maid singing about birds and stars and tragic lovers—"

Vaelor handed him a flask.

"Thank the Heavens," Zairen muttered, taking a long swig. "If we're doing this, I'll need divine lubrication."