Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 465. Pain II
He started skipping doses. Slowly. Carefully. Just to see what happened.
At first, nothing. Then, dreams. Foggy, strange dreams.
Then the headaches came again.
And then came the doubts.
Not just about Jane.
About everything.
His memory. His mother. His loyalty. His stepmother.
His father.
Even himself.
He groaned and lay back on the bed, arms spread, eyes open to the carved ceiling.
It was spinning.
Or maybe he was.
He wanted to rest. But didn't dare.
He wanted to trust. But didn't know who.
He wanted to forget. But didn't know what he'd already lost.
He covered his eyes with one arm.
And whispered her name.
"Jane…"
Not angry. Not confused.
Just tired.
He didn't want to be a pawn anymore. But pawns didn't get to choose the game.
At least, not yet.
The wind whispered against the balcony window. Cold and sharp. A reminder.
Jane was back now. With the Euphorions.
All with eyes like blades.
And for once… he didn't know if he was the prince of Pontus or just another piece on their board.
He sat up again. Slow. Careful.
The pain was fading.
But the questions weren't.
And neither was the feeling in his gut.
Something was wrong.
Something had been wrong.
And Jane… might be the only one who remembered what.
He leaned back against the headboard. Eyes wide open. Still dressed in royal formals, but too damn exhausted to care.
He didn't want to dream tonight.
But if he did…
He hoped she'd be there.
Maybe this time, she wouldn't walk away.
Or maybe this time, he'd remember why she did.
And what happened between them.
But... The Evil Eye had seen everything.
It blinked, once, hovering in the air above Roric's bed like some ancient god's judgment. Then it faded into a ripple of shadow and mana, dispersing without a trace.
Back in the grand banquet hall, the King of Euphorion smiled. His expression was polite, charming even, as if he wasn't currently violating one of the highest laws of kingdom diplomacy.
He raised a crystal glass to his lips, nodding at a noble who toasted him from across the room. Seraphine still shot subtle glares at Rose. Darius leaned forward to argue some minor trade dispute with a duke whose name Angel hadn't bothered to remember.
But Angelus?
Angelus Moonfall wasn't even here.
Not really.
His mind, his presence, his magic, his attention, they were still upstairs. Still inside the prince's room. Still watching.
Because he always prepared ahead of time.
Technically, no one could use magic inside the castle.
Technically.
But technicalities were for the weak.
He had slipped in the night before. Alone. Cloaked, masked, untraceable. No grand entourage, no magic flare. He wore a guard's uniform, borrowed from one unfortunate soul who wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.
And Jane's blood?
He had it on him like a badge.
Just a drop, really. The size of a coin pressed into a sealing glyph. That was all he needed to unlock the magic vault.
Because Pontus might hate Euphorion, but Jane was still the princess.
Angel had laughed to himself, quietly, as he slipped past the sleeping guards, lulled unconscious by Rose's sleeping drugs.
A concoction of her own making. The "Sleeping Bellflower" blend, airborne, nearly undetectable, and enough to knock out a wyvern in five seconds flat.
She'd handed it to him the day before they traveled.
Just in case, she'd said with a smile.
Angel knew what that meant.
So yes, he'd walked past the guards, some slumped in their chairs, others mid-bite on half-eaten rolls, and entered the core of Pontus Castle.
The magic control chamber.
A beautiful piece of work, honestly.
Pontus magic was old. Heavy. Carved into stone and crystal, runes etched into the very foundation of the castle.
He reached the main leyline anchor and placed his hand against the cold slab of obsidian. Then poured in his mana. Not too much. Not enough to trip alarms. Just enough to mix.
To blend.
To thread his own power like a parasite into the spell matrix itself.
He didn't overwrite.
He synchronized.
Which meant, technically, the barrier still functioned.
Still looked perfect.
Still glowed blue when inspected.
But now, buried in the deep recesses, was a name.
Angelus Raizel Moonfall.
Authorized.
Untraceable.
He'd laughed again as he left the chamber. Quietly, calmly. He even made sure to walk past the kitchen and pick up a piece of fruit.
Then back to his place.
Back to the waiting game.
And tonight? All he had to do was blink.
Cast the Eye.
Observe.
Spy.
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