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“You’re going to empty the entire kitchen at this rate.”
Plantz said it flatly, but there was a faint crease between his brows as he watched Calian reach for yet another buttered roll.
Morning light spilled across the long table, catching on silverware and porcelain. Plates had already been cleared twice. There were still grilled sausages, roasted potatoes with herbs, soft scrambled eggs, honeyed carrots, sliced pears, and a tall stack of warm bread disappearing at a speed that could only be described as alarming.
Calian looked up mid-bite, cheeks slightly puffed, eyes bright. He swallowed and grinned.
“A swordmaster needs fuel,” he declared, already spearing another sausage. “Do you want me collapsing halfway through training? Besides, I’m still growing. A growing boy needs nutrients.”
Plantz stared at him as Calian said all of this while calmly stuffing another forkful into his mouth.
“You’re barking again,” he muttered, picking at his own plate.
“I am not barking. I am stating facts.” the younger pointed at him with a piece of bread. “You, on the other hand, should eat more. If you keep nibbling like that, you won’t grow any taller.”
Green eyes narrowed.
“Smile, older brother. You look better with a smile,” Calian continued cheerfully, ignoring the glare sent his way.
It was true. Plantz had been a bit taller before, just enough that Calian had to tilt his chin up slightly when they stood close. But that difference was shrinking. They were nearly the same height now, though Plantz was older by a year.
Another click of the tongue. Plantz resumed eating without dignifying the comment.
Calian watched him between bites, expression softening. It was still a sight, seeing Plantz actually finish breakfast. There had been a time when the second prince would skip meals entirely, claiming he was not hungry, claiming he had better things to do. Calian had frowned so often at the sharpness of his brother’s frame that it had become a habit. Too light. Too thin. As if a strong wind might carry him off.
Now, at least, Plantz sat at the table every morning.
Calian had insisted. Breakfast together whenever possible. Lunch if schedules allowed. Dinner without excuses. Plantz had resisted at first, then gradually surrendered to routine.
It had helped. The hollow look had softened. The collarbones were not quite so sharp. Still slim, still lithe, but healthier.
Plantz’s build did not seem the type to bulk no matter how much he ate. His body stayed lean and defined, more willow than oak. Calian suspected that even if he fed him an entire feast daily, his brother would remain slender and quick.
He found he did not mind.
“Eat your eggs,” Calian said lightly, nudging the plate closer. “I refuse to have a frail older brother.”
Plantz shot him an annoyed look and obeyed anyway.
That look, the slight furrow of his brows as he chewed, the quiet way he focused on finishing his meal, made something warm stir in Calian's chest.
The dark-haired prince hid the small curve of his smile behind a sip of tea.
When the plates were finally empty, Calian leaned back and stretched his arms overhead with satisfaction.
“That was a good meal,” he announced happily.
Plantz stood first, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Where are you going?” Calian asked, though he already knew.
“Training.”
The younger nodded. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Plantz inclined his head once, neither invitation nor dismissal, and turned toward the door.
Red gaze followed him quietly.
The morning light caught along the line of his brother’s profile, outlining the clean angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the quiet focus that never quite left his expression. His build was slim, almost deceptively so. His waist tapered in a way most men did not possess, even with rigorous training.
The gaze dipped unconsciously.
He had circled that slim waist before, arms sliding around it from behind, feeling how easily his hands met at the front. He had rested his chin on Plantz’s shoulder and inhaled quietly, content. His brother had stiffened at first, muttered something about behaving properly, yet he had not pulled away immediately.
The memory made Calian’s smile soften, fingers twitch slightly against his cup.
He would like to do that again.
Also, he had a feeling he might very well end up getting bigger than Plantz. The thought pleased him greatly. He was already heavier, stronger in raw force. If he grew taller too, that would be ideal.
It means he would be able to shield his brother entirely.
Could lift him without effort.
Could press him against a wall or pull him close in a crowd and know that no one could dislodge him.
The third prince liked the idea more than he would ever admit aloud.
He also liked the way Plantz fit as he was. If his brother became much taller, Calian would have to tilt upward to rest his head on that shoulder. The thought offended him mildly.
Better this way.
Better that he could slip his arms around that slim waist and fold him in close without strain.
Better that he could protect him easily.
Calian stood after a moment, brushing crumbs from his sleeve, a soft, satisfied expression still lingering.
“Do not run ahead without me,” he called lightly toward the empty doorway, knowing full well his brother would pretend not to hear. “You still need to grow taller.”
From somewhere down the corridor came the faint, familiar sound of a tongue clicking in annoyance.
Calian laughed softly and headed after him.
“Eat more next time,” he added, voice carrying just enough. “I won’t wait forever to outgrow you.”