Truthfully, they were deeply jealous. They'd wanted their own sons to become king, and they'd been relieved when Larus married away, removing him from succession.
But they were also bitter. Why did 'he' get to become consort to such a powerful empire? Why did 'he' receive that opportunity instead of their sons?
Life was unfair.
After escaping the stepmothers, Larus walked toward the western palace—his mother's residence.
He didn't enter immediately. Instead, he stood outside, looking at the modest building that seemed so small compared to the other consorts' lavish quarters.
Inside, he could see her through the open meditation pavilion—sitting in perfect stillness, her back straight, her breathing controlled.
She spoke without opening her eyes, without turning around:
"Are you not coming in?"
Larus paused.
All the coolness, all the calculated composure, all the cold authority he'd displayed before his father—it vanished instantly.
