Chapter 239
Fight For Love
Zander shook his head the moment he spotted Gavriel and Osman outside. He had been buried under countless responsibilities, and only now did he finally find a moment to check on them again.
Gavriel and Osman sat side by side on a stone bench in the side courtyard of the Aetherion mansion, both staring into the bonfire as if it held answers neither of them liked. The flames crackled softly, casting long shadows across the courtyard walls, but neither man spoke.
‘They looked… miserable. Love-struck and suffering,’ Zander decided.
With a quiet sigh, he beckoned a servant. “Bring a bottle of wine. Two glasses. And whatever snacks you can find,” he said, then added after a brief pause, “Make it quick. They look like they might freeze to death before I get there.”
The servant hurried off.
By the time Zander approached, the wine had arrived, along with a small tray of bread, cheese, and dried fruit. He took one glance at their grim expressions and let out a short laugh.
“Well,” he said, setting the tray down between them, “if brooding were a sport, you two would be undefeated champions.”
Neither Gavriel nor Osman reacted.
Zander poured the wine himself, handing each of them a glass. “Let me be clear,” he continued lightly, “I will be of absolutely no help when it comes to matters of the heart. I excel in war, politics, and making bad decisions look intentional.”
Gavriel finally glanced at him. Osman answered with a quiet snort, while Zander merely grinned, clearly amused. He knew exactly what was tormenting both men.
Gavriel’s struggle was written all over his face. Althea had awakened, yet she could not remember her recent memories. That loss included him, and it was a wound deeper than any blade. No enemy had ever managed to unsettle the Alpha King this much, yet forgetting had done what war never could.
As for Osman, Zander had stayed with him long enough to see through his silence. He had witnessed the constant bickering between Osman and Candice, sharp words hiding something far more fragile. His men had reported everything that happened in their hideout, from the heated arguments to the moments of quiet concern when they thought no one was watching.
It was more than enough for Zander to understand that what bound Osman and Candice was no ordinary attachment, but a deep romantic connection.
Seeing the two men like this, burdened by different kinds of longing, Zander could only shake his head inwardly. Power, titles, and victories meant little when the heart was at war with itself.
“But,” Zander added, lifting his own glass, “I can offer you something far more practical. Wine.” Then he jokingly added, “Warm bodies. Perhaps even a willing companion or two, so at least you won’t freeze to death tonight?”
Osman took a sip of wine and looked unimpressed. “You’re insufferable.”
“Consistently,” Zander agreed.
There was a brief lull before Osman spoke again, his tone far more serious. “Tell me something, Archon Zander. Would you accept the marriage alliance with Candice, if the Archon of Terravane insisted on it?”
Zander raised a brow, surprised but thoughtful. He swirled the wine in his glass before answering. “It’s not a bad offer,” he said honestly. “Terravane is wealthy, stable, and strategically placed. Candice herself is intelligent. Well-trained. Politically useful.”
Gavriel shot him a sideways look. “That’s not exactly romantic.”
“I never claimed to be,” Zander replied smoothly.
Then he turned back to Osman, a slow grin forming. “Which brings me to the real question. What exactly are you offering me so I won’t accept it?”
Osman frowned. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all,” Zander said, leaning back against the bench. “Convince me. Alliances are expensive. Love is inconvenient. If you want me to refuse Terravane, you’ll have to offer something better.”
The fire popped loudly, sparks drifting into the cold night air.
Osman stared into the flames, jaw tightening, while Gavriel took a slow drink of his wine, clearly amused for the first time that evening.
Osman shrugged, lifting his glass before taking a slow drink. Then, almost quietly, he said, “Candice is more than my life to me. So I can only offer my all… including my life.”
Zander paused mid-sip. He turned slowly, eyes sliding toward Osman with a look that was half disbelief, half amusement. “Your life?” he repeated. “That’s it?”
Osman frowned. “That is not a small thing.”
“Oh, it’s very noble,” Zander agreed, waving his glass lazily. “Very poetic. But tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do with your life? Keep it in a box? Hang it on my wall as a warning to others?”
Gavriel let out a low chuckle, finally warming to the conversation.
Osman shot Zander a flat look. “You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Zander said, leaning closer, his tone light but sharp. “I just find it amusing that men always offer their lives when they have nothing else to bargain with.”
Osman set his glass down with a quiet clink. “Then name your price.”
Zander’s grin widened. He refilled Osman’s glass without asking. “Careful. That’s how wars start.” He raised his own cup. “Your life, huh? Fine. Let’s say I take it.”
Osman stiffened.
Zander continued casually, “If I accept your life, that means you fight my battles when I ask. You bleed where I point. You stand between me and a blade without question.”
Gavriel arched a brow. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Of course I am,” Zander replied. “When else do men hand themselves over so willingly?”
Osman met his gaze without flinching. “If it keeps Candice free… I won’t hesitate.”
For a moment, the teasing faded.
Then Zander laughed and clinked his glass against Osman’s. “Relax. If I wanted your life, I would’ve taken it on a battlefield long ago.”
He leaned back, staring into the fire. “But love like that? That’s a stronger bargaining chip than you think.”
Osman raised his glass. “To foolish men and the wars they fight for love.”
Gavriel lifted his wine. “I’ll drink to that.”
The fire crackled louder, sending sparks into the darkening sky as the night grew colder. Yet for the first time in a long while, Osman’s shoulders eased, if only a little. The weight on his chest had not disappeared, but it no longer felt crushing.
The bargain was not settled. Nothing was certain yet. Still, something had begun, and that alone gave him enough resolve to stand his ground. Osman lifted his gaze toward the flames, his jaw tightening with quiet determination.
Whatever stood between him and Candice, he was prepared to face it all. He would give everything he had, lay down pride, comfort, even his own safety, if it meant earning the right to stand beside her. Not as her protector alone, but as her husband.