Reylor could barely look at Treyan.

They sat across from each other during their daily meeting with the Councillor, and while the old man droned on about the suns and their seasonal cycles, Reylor's thoughts could not escape the memory of his dream with the Empress.

The very thought of her could be treason and informing Treyan could mean worse.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. The Empress was supposed to show herself to Treyan, and it was Treyan who was supposed to find her. Coming to Reylor, the mere second-born, was wrong. The consequences were far too great if anyone ever discovered his unintentional betrayal. It could put the entire Prophecy in jeopardy, or worse, the Empire as a whole.

Reylor was supposed to spend his life as his brother's right-hand advisor, supporting him, the Empress, and the Empire as they brought the Prophecy to fruition.

But could this dream mean that Reylor wanted something other than what was predestined for him? Did he truly want more?

Did he want her?

His knew his brooding had become obvious when he felt a hand on his shoulder and found Treyan standing beside him, a concerned look across his face. Looking around, the Councillor was nowhere to be seen, and Reylor hadn't even heard him take his leave.

"What's going on?" Treyan asked his troubled twin.

Forcing a smile, Reylor stood. "Nothing at all, why do you ask?"

"For starters, the celestial teachings are usually your favorite, and I haven't heard a word from you since you sat down."

"I suppose I'm just feeling unwell today—little sleep and otherwise indisposed," Reylor hedged. "In fact, I should most likely retire to my room for the rest of the day so as not to infect the rest of the palace."

He nodded to his brother as he turned to leave, but Treyan grabbed his arm to keep him in his place.

Rage flooded Reylor's body at the unnecessary touch. How dare Treyan try to stop him from doing what he wanted? He quickly turned to face him, a fire burning in his blue eyes.

"Let me go."

It was evident Treyan was taken aback by his brother's change in demeanor, but Reylor paid him no mind. "Don't ever stop me like that again, do you understand?"

Treyan peered at him as if trying to figure out if this was some sort of game. It was not a game to Reylor, and he maintained his stare.

Treyan put up his hands in defeat. "Fine, have it your way," he conceded with a hint of disappointment in his voice. He began to walk away from him without another word.

Reylor shook his head as if reawakening. "Treyan, wait—"

But before Reylor could apologize for his uncharacteristic outburst, Treyan waved him off and was out the door, leaving Reylor to reflect upon his actions in solitude.

Reylor always found the gardens peaceful in the morning, especially when he wanted to be by himself. With so much on his mind, the last thing he wanted was to run into anyone unprepared. He had dreamt of the Empress again the night before, and the inability to maintain his composure around Treyan was driving him to the brink of madness.

He sat underneath one of his favorite trees and leaned his back against the rough bark, closing his eyes and allowing the coarse texture against his skin to remind him that he was still awake. It wasn't that he dreaded his dreams—in fact, he was starting to welcome his nightly visits from the Empress, and that's the part that concerned him the most.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Lord Reylor?"

He opened his eyes at the familiar voice and he stood to welcome the Councillor as he walked towards him.

"Councillor, I wasn't expecting anyone else up this early in the morning."

"Not all of us sleep as Prince Treyan does, my Lord. The palace could fall, and he'd be none the wiser."

Mention of his brother brought his gaze away from the Councillor, and try as he might to remain as casual as possible despite the turmoil within his mind, the Councillor was not fooled by his purposeful aversion.

"You're troubled, my Lord," the Councillor observed. "Please, walk with me."

Nodding, Reylor fell in step alongside the Councillor as they continued their walk deeper into the gardens. Reylor remained silent, afraid of giving away his mind's true intentions.

"What is it that is troubling you, Lord Reylor?"

Reylor merely shrugged. The Councillor was a wise man, a member of the long-standing Council of Lords and had been practically running the Empire since their father's disappearance and their mother's death. He and his mother were close, Reylor knew, but no one truly and openly discussed how close they were. He was a man who had always been there, who they all trusted, and who always seemed to have the answers when they were needed.

Reylor truly wondered if he'd have the answers to his questions now.

"Councillor," Reylor started. "I'm curious about the status of the Prophecy."

"The Prophecy, my lord?"

Reylor nodded. "Is there a timeline in which it must occur?"

The Councillor walked in silence for a moment, as if mulling over the question that was presented to him. "As far as I know, my lord, the only time requirement is the birth of the new Empress, and the subsequent arrival of the royal twins. But since the passing of the Queen Empress..." The sorrow in his voice was evident as Reylor, too, thought of his mother.

The suns were on their sixth cycle since his mother left them, and he remembered the day as if it had just happened. Her health was failing since their father's disappearance—she refused to eat and denied the healer's attention. And when she did die from, as the healer determined, no more than a broken heart, they knew it was coming, though some handled it better than the rest. Treyan, the strength of the Empire, accepted his role of Crown Prince almost immediately once their mother passed on, while it took Reylor much, much longer to come to grips with the realization that both of their parents were gone and never returning.

She was lovely, caring, direct- everything the Empire needed and more. Her history was also steeped deep within the Prophecy, but as all the others, no one truly spoke about their own past, only the present and the futures that were upon them. It was said the Annals housed the written history of every Prophecy that befell the Empire since its beginning, but none dared to read it for themselves.

"What concerns you, my lord?"

Reylor took a breath to prepare himself. "Has my brother spoken to you recently? About anything?"

"Prince Treyan? No, my lord. Would it have anything to do with the lack of patience you seem to have for him lately?"

So, his change in demeanor was evident even to the Councillor. Reylor knew he needed to tread lightly.

"I'm concerned for him, Councillor."

"And why is that, my lord?"

Reylor knew he had to choose his words carefully to not give himself away. "Do you think he'll ever be able to find the Empress when she presents herself to him?"

"My Lord, is that not your brother's burden to carry?"

"Perhaps, but doesn't that burden affect the whole Empire?"

The Councillor glanced at him from the corner of his eye and nodded slightly. "I understand your reason for concern, but please believe me when I say the Empire is in perfectly capable hands. I know it's a lot to take in, knowing that you and Prince Treyan will be wholly responsible for everything that happens in the Empire, but rest assured, there is no reason to be nervous-"

"Nervous?"

"I will be there as your ever-willing advisor."

"Who said anything about being nervous?"

"My lord, it's only a natural emotion-"

"If anyone should be nervous, it's Treyan!"

Reylor's outburst silenced the Councillor, leaving the elder advisor to peer at him for further explanation. When Reylor remained silent and no additional information was provided, the Councillor continued.

"The Empress will present herself when the time is right. There is no right or wrong, no good or bad; it is when it is, and this is how it has always been."

"Yes, for the last two thousand years, I am aware," Reylor finished as he rolled his eyes at the monotonous reminder of their ancestry.

"That is correct. And for that reason, we must put our faith in the Prophecy and believe that it will guide us down the paths we are meant to travel."

"But what if it's wrong?" Reylor knew he had already said too much but couldn't bring himself to stop.

The Councillor stared at him, his eyes cold. "The Prophecy has never been wrong, nor will it ever be. And I highly suggest we not speak of these doubts of yours again. For all of our sakes."

Without another word he turned from the young lord and retreated into the castle.