Chapter 62
(POV - RHAEVAN )
The doors to the council chamber slammed open beneath my hand.
The sharp crack echoed off the marble pillars, instantly silencing every quiet, cowardly conversation inside. The King was standing beside Princess Lysenne at the head of the long oak table.
"...Save the prince if you must," the King was saying, his voice as icy and detached as ever. "Our alliance with Viremont depends upon it. As for the girl..." He offered a dismissive wave of his jeweled hand. "Bring her back if she survives. If not..." He shrugged. "So be it."
My jaw tightened so hard my teeth ached.
"Father!" Princess Lysenne's voice rang through the chamber, sharp with disappointment. "How could you-"
I stopped listening, turning my back on them and walking out into the corridor.
The King of Eryndor was a remarkable specimen -powerless without his advisors, blind without his daughter.
If Lysenne hadn't spent years quietly correcting his catastrophic mistakes behind the scenes, the kingdom would have collapsed long ago.
The spell restraining the darkness corrupting his mind was failing, or perhaps it was merely revealing the monster who had always been there.
Either way, I had reached the absolute limit of my patience. One day, I would kill him myself.
Cassiane probably wouldn't object.
The thought should have been satisfying. Instead, it only served as a brutal reminder that she was still missing. Again. And I had failed her. Again.
The first time I met Cassiane, neither of us had names. Only circumstances.
I had wandered into the capital half-starved, filthy, and young enough to believe that surviving until tomorrow was an achievement worth celebrating.
A group of alley thugs had cornered me behind the baker's square.
I could have beaten them - but before I could draw a breath, she appeared.
A girl far too small to be inserting herself into a street fight.
She planted herself directly between us without a hint of hesitation.
She wasn't stronger. She wasn't armed. She simply used her wit against them with the absolute confidence of someone who had already decided they were wrong.
When they backed down and disappeared, she turned to me, looked me up and down, and sighed as though the universe had personally inconvenienced her.
Then she thrust half of her treasured meal straight into my hands.
There wasn't an ounce of pity in her voice - only sharp irritation as she muttered complaints about ungrateful street rats.
Yet every few seconds, her eyes darted back to make sure I was actually swallowing.
It was honest. She wanted nothing from me.
She had simply decided I looked too pathetic to ignore.
I wanted to ask her name, but the moment felt too fragile, like pulling a loose thread would make the whole thing vanish. After that day, I returned to the palace looking for her, which eventually led me straight into the palace guards - and then to Archmage Theodore Alric Veylan.
"What do you want?" he had asked my bruised, rebellious face.
"Power," I replied, with a half - truth.
Master Theodore studied me quietly, completely unconvinced with my answer. "If you wish to stand beside someone important someday... become someone capable of protecting them first."
I never forgot those words. I trained until exhaustion became routine, learned discipline, and climbed the ranks of the Tower one step at a time.
The only way into the palace's deepest archives was through Lysenne. Alongside Princess Lysenne, I dug through fragments of the past, finally learning that Cassiane possessed ancient, forbidden bloodlines and had vanished from the capital.
Then, during a fatal border mission, a rogue spatial portal tore open. I saw her - alive, different, grown, beautiful. And I sensed the magic carefully concealed beneath her skin. From that second onward, keeping her hidden became my real war.
Master Theodore helped me bury suspicions, but events unfolded faster than I could counter.
When the dust settled after the royal guards intervened, Cassiane looked at me as though I had betrayed her.
Perhaps I had. So I accepted her hatred.
Protecting her life mattered far more than being understood.
"...Rey."
Lysenne's quiet voice pulled me back to the cold hallway. She stood outside the council doors, her expression heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry. My father shouldn't have said those things."
"It's all right," I said flatly.
"Any news from the scout units?"
"They followed another lead near the western trade road," I replied, masking my frustration. "It was false. A waste of time."
"I'll continue the search myself," I added. "If anything changes at the palace, send word immediately."
Lysenne nodded softly. "Please... bring them home."
I inclined my head and turned toward the eastern wing. I had taken only a few steps when a soft, familiar sound echoed from the shadowed archway.
"Meow."
I stopped and turned. Fluff trotted toward me across the polished stone floor with remarkable, intent purpose. I dropped to one knee. "Did you find something?"
The cat spun in one enthusiastic circle before staring directly into my eyes -his universal sign of absolute certainty.
"Show me."
Moments later, the air hummed violently as my personal teleportation runes ignited. When the light faded, the cool, damp air of a dense forest filled my lungs. We stood before a sagging, weathered hut half-hidden by vines.
Fluff walked ahead. I followed, my hand resting at the sides, prepared for ambush.
The front door hung slightly ajar. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
Lucien.
He was lying on a narrow cot, pale and unconscious, but breathing. I crossed the room in two strides and pressed my fingers against his throat. His pulse was weak, but steady.
Relief touched me briefly, only to be instantly swallowed by a far darker panic.
If Lucien was here... where was Cassiane?
A sudden crash echoed from the woods outside. Rapid, frantic footsteps crunched through the brush, heading straight for the hut.
I spun toward the doorway, drawing a defensive spell to my fingertips -
A figure burst through the entrance.
Cassiane.
She stood frozen in the doorway, clutching a bundle of crushed herbs to her chest so tightly her knuckles were stark white. Her clothes were torn, her face streaked with dirt and blood, her eyes wide with frantic desperation.
Our eyes locked. For one suspended heartbeat, neither of us breathed.
I took one cautious, deliberate step forward, lowering my hand. "Cass-"
"You're late," she choked out, her voice raspy and unmistakably her.
Then her knees gave away.
I moved before my mind could even process the motion, catching her in my arms just before she hit the cold floor.