Outside the palace walls, the storm is raging. If this was his home, Yuuji thinks, with his grandfather, the roof would already collapse. The window would already be broken. And he would already be putting cups and pans and buckets to deal with the leaks.

But this is the Royal Palace instead of the shabby, run-down, weak-excuse of a hut he used to live in.

Not three months ago, he was brought here after a case was made against him—bastard prince, they would call him. If they would insult him anyway, then why bring him in, in the first place?

And tonight, Yuuji stands after he sees them leaving the dining hall. Them. It's like his body moved in automation—maybe because he saw the way they left the feast, shoulders stiff, hands clenched like they were holding something too heavy to bear.

Them. His older, half-brother's betrothed.

Yuuji doesn't know what to think of Choso, the Crown Prince, yet. But he does like his soon-to-be spouse. Love, maybe. Infatuated, definitely.

Now, he finds them standing in the rain, their robes, embroidered with the sigils of their house, soaked through.

“You’ll catch a cold," his teasing voice pierce through the rain, but he doesn’t step back.