Aurel sat at the center booth with a glass in his hand and a storm in his mind.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
Dorian was still talking too loudly, retelling a duel that had grown more heroic with every passing second. Mirelle still leaned back in her seat with that faint, knowing look in her eyes, as though she were watching a play unfold rather than participating in it. Rykard idly shuffled cards, occasionally glancing around to see who might be worth swindling next.
Everything in the tavern was alive, loud, and warm... except for Aurel.
Behind his relaxed posture and faint smirk, his thoughts moved at a speed he had never experienced before. Every connection, every alliance, every possible grudge against House Vaelthorne rose to the surface of his mind in sharp, organized clarity.
'Could it be the Gearwen's sent people after us...? As a whole family? Maybe I was the only successful assassination while my siblings got away last time. But what could they possibly gain from angering my parents? It's public knowledge how much they love their children. Maybe that was the whole point? Speaking of my parents...I wonder if they were attacked as well...'
House Vealthorne was a military house. They commanded armies. They crushed rebellions. They enforced order where the crown's word alone was not enough. Which meant his parents were away, dealing with the king's tantrums, which usually evolved to riots and battles in the capital. Yes, they worked for the king, but they weren't war-hungry either. This made it difficult for them to stay away from him too long, in case someone with evil intentions started whispering in his ear.
That kind of power did not come without consequence. Enemies were inevitable.
Aurel's gaze drifted toward the far wall, though he saw none of it.
Border disputes. Political rivalries. Disgraced nobles. Families stripped of land and title. Generals replaced. Officers executed. Each decision his mother made and each action his father took carved resentment into someone's heart.
And Aurel, as the weakest heir, was the easiest place to strike.
He exhaled slowly.
"There are too many," he murmured under his breath.
"Too many what?" Dorian asked.
Aurel blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He lifted his glass slightly, masking the moment.
"Too many bad storytellers," he replied smoothly. "You're making me lose faith in the academy's standards."
Dorian scoffed, immediately launching into a defensive argument. Aurel instantly tuned him out again.
If the goddess was telling the truth—and at this point, he had no reason to doubt her—then his death had not been a simple act of opportunity. It had been carefully planned.
Which meant the man who killed him was not acting alone. Aurel's fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
'I guess we will get to the others when we get there. For now, I need to focus on how I'll survive the night.'
His thoughts were interrupted by movement. Cassian approached the table. Aurel noticed him instantly. Of course he did. Now that he knew, it was impossible not to. The boy moved with the same quiet precision as before, balancing the tray with practiced ease. His posture was straight, his steps measured. Nothing wasted.
It was subtle, but now Aurel could see it. The discipline and percision in which he carried. If Aurel did not know his identity, he would think Cassian was a long-lost prince in hiding.
Cassian stopped beside the table.
"What can I get you?" he asked.
His tone was even. Detached just like before. Aurel leaned back slightly, letting his gaze travel up and down Cassian's figure.
He was searching him for something. For a brief moment, their eyes met.
'Has he always looked at me with such contempt?'
Last time, Aurel didn't spare him a glance, so he had not noticed. Cassian did not look away.
'Interesting.'
Aurel let a faint smile touch his lips.
"Water," he said casually.
Cassian did not move.
"…What?"
Aurel frowned slightly.
"I said—"
Then Cassian stepped closer to hear better... close enough that the scent of him reached Aurel. Everything stopped.
It was faint. Almost nonexistent beneath the smells of the tavern, but Aurel recognized it instantly.
'Steel and...blood!? Fresh too.'
The memory slammed into him with brutal clarity. A blade cutting through flesh. The sound of his guards as they were struck down. The metallic tang in the air. The quiet, efficient movement of death.
Aurel's breath hitched. For a split second, he was back on the street, watching Garrick fall. Hearing Bram's last breath. Feeling the blade slide into his own body. Cold spread through his limbs. His fingers went numb, and his heart stuttered.
Cassian was still standing there.
"…My lord?"
The words barely reached him. Aurel didn't respond. He couldn't. Goosebumps rose along his arms as a cold, creeping horror settled into his chest.
'It's him.'
The thought came unbidden. Before he could react, before he could speak, Rykard leaned forward.
"Just bring water," he said impatiently. "He's clearly lost in his own brilliance again."
A few laughs followed. Cassian's gaze lingered on Aurel for a moment longer. Then he turned and walked away. Just like that. Aurel exhaled sharply, his lungs finally remembering how to function.
The world rushed back in.
"…What's wrong with you?" Rykard asked, narrowing his eyes. "You looked like you saw a ghost."
Aurel ran a hand through his hair, forcing his expression back into something resembling normal.
"Please," he said lightly. "If I ever look that terrified, I expect one of you to at least pretend to defend me."
Dorian snorted. "From what? A waiter?"
"From the poor service in this place!" Aurel replied smoothly. "Did you see how close he got to me all of a sudden? It's a serious issue."
The table laughed again. Mirelle did not. Her gaze lingered on Aurel, thoughtful.
"You're off," she said quietly.
Aurel met her eyes. For a moment, he considered telling her.
'I guess I can never truly hide form Mirrels gaze, huh. Her [Will] is serious stuff.'
Then he dismissed the thought.
'This is tn her battle. It won't do anyone any good. I don't even know if I can share my conversation with the goddess with her anyway.'
The goddess's words echoed in his mind.
[I will throw you in a place not even gods dare to look.]
'Scary!'
"I'm perfectly fine," Aurel said, smiling easily. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit," Dorian muttered.
Aurel chuckled softly.
'If only you knew.'
Cassian returned shortly after with their drinks, setting them down without a word. Aurel forced himself to remain calm this time, watching closely but not reacting. Trying to gain back any pride he lost by freezing up like a little lamb.
Cassian did not look at him again.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversation that Aurel barely registered. His mind remained elsewhere, replaying the moment over and over again.
When they finally left the tavern, the night air felt colder than before. Garrick and Bram fell into step beside him as they always did.
Loyal, unaware, and most importantly, alive. Aurel glanced at them briefly. His chest tightened. He knew how this ended. If he did nothing, they would die. Again.
"We're taking the usual route?" Bram asked.
Aurel hesitated. The forest path. That was where it had happened. That was where everything had gone wrong.
'Not this time.'
Aurel exhaled slowly.
"No," he said. "We'll go around."
Both guards looked at him.
Garrick raised an eyebrow. "Thought you hated that path at night."
"I do," Aurel admitted. "But I want some air."
Bram shrugged. "Your funeral."
The words hung in the air longer than they should have. Aurel almost laughed.
They walked by the forest that they had cut through last time. Aurlel looked at the drag path their feet created in the grass before continuing on the cobblestone.
---
That night, as servants moved around his room preparing him for rest, Aurel stood near the window, staring out into the darkness. They fussed over him as they always did.
Brushing dust from his coat, preparing water, lighting candles—just his normal nightly routine. Aurel felt none of it. His thoughts were elsewhere.
'It won't be that easy to avoid dying. If the attack wasn't in the forest, then it would come later. most likely when I go to sleep.'
Which meant he had time. But time for what? He turned slightly, watching the servants as they worked. They moved efficiently. Aurel's gaze sharpened.
[Sovereign Tongue.]
A dominion over hearts.
He already had practice with that skill. He just needed to implement the boost of certainty that came with his power.
"Leave," Aurel said suddenly.
The servants paused.
"My lord?" one of them asked.
They all paused and looked at him confusingly. He was never the type to use that kind of serious tone, so everyone was caught off guard. Meanwhile, Aurel sheepishly stood before them in embarrassment.
'Shit! It didn't work like I thought it would!'
He had tried to command them... and it failed. Aurel quickly cleared his throat.
"I'll handle the rest myself," he said calmly. "You're dismissed."
They hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
"Yes, my lord."
One by one, they left the room. The door closed softly behind them. Silence settled, and Aurel stood still for a long moment.
Then he moved.
He walked to the center of the room and sat on the edge of his bed, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. His focus turned inward.
To that thread in his very soul. The thread that the goddess herself said she created. It was faint. He closed his eyes and reached for it. Nothing happened at first. Then, a slight pull.
Aurel's brow furrowed. He focused harder, and the thread responded. Barely. Like something distant, half-asleep.
He exhaled slowly.
"Relax," he murmured.
The word felt different. The air in the room shifted slightly. Aurel felt it. His eyes opened.
'Interesting.'
It wasn't overwhelming, and it wasn't absolute, but it was there. Aurel leaned back slightly, a slow smile forming on his face.
So this was it. This was the power he had wasted. He looked toward the door. Toward the dark hallway beyond. Somewhere out there, a killer was lurking. Ready to strike wherever he least expected it. The goddess's voice cut through his thoughts.
[You will not run. You will not hide.]
Aurel's smile widened. He leaned back onto the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
"Come," he whispered softly.
This time, his voice carried weight.
"I'm ready now."