Chapter 4
Tehvan
The faint sound of raised voices seeped through the heavy oak door of the headmaster’s office.
Tehvan paused mid-step, tilting his head to listen.
Though the words were muffled, the tones were distinctive.
One voice, Abernathy’s, was biting, each syllable laced with the simmering authority that defined him.
The other was softer, hesitant, but edged with unmistakable distress.
Tehvan frowned and knocked, a single, firm rap that broke through the muffled argument.
“What?” Abernathy’s voice snapped, irritation cutting through the solid oak.
Inside, his brother stood near his desk, his posture stiff, fists clenched at his sides. The lines on Abernathy’s face were deeper than usual, his composure—the polished, imperious mask he wore so well—beginning to crack at the edges.
In front of him stood a young ward, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple braid, her small frame trembling. She held her hands clasped tightly behind her back in a pose of respect, but her shoulders quivered, betraying her fear.
Tehvan’s heart clenched. He knew her.
Amara.
Over the past several days, he had pieced together her connection to Elora.
The quiet friendship they shared offered some semblance of comfort in Elora’s darkest moments.
He couldn’t tell Amara how much that meant to him, but the knowledge made seeing her here, in this state, all the more infuriating.
He stepped forward silently, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched beneath his touch, but he didn’t pull away. “Amara,” he said softly, his voice as calm as he could manage, “return to the kitchens.”
She didn’t move. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, her shoulders hunched in submission. She was terrified, not of him, but of the man in front of the desk.
Tehvan turned to Abernathy, his gaze pleaded with his brother, silently urging him to relent.
Thorn huffed. “Go,” he barked, waving a dismissive hand.
Amara finally moved. As she passed Tehvan, her dull turquoise eyes flickered up to meet his. They shimmered with unshed tears, and that was when he saw it, the angry red mark on her cheek in the shape of a hand.
Rage boiled beneath his calm exterior. His face remained composed, but his fist clenched at his side, nails biting into his palm. Abernathy had always been cruel, but this? Striking her? It of course wasn’t beneath him by any means but Amara was innocent.
She gave Tehvan a slight bow before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.
Tehvan turned back to his brother. “What was that about?”
Thorn shrugged, the gesture lazy, almost dismissive. “She was withholding information,” he said. “She knows something.”
Tehvan’s nails dug deeper into his palms. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She’s a ward,” Thorn corrected, stepping closer, his expression hardening. “And if you don’t remind them of their place, they forget.”
Tehvan’s stomach churned, a wave of disgust rising at his brother’s words. He reminded himself why he was here, why he was playing the obedient brother. For Elora. Everything he did, every lie, every suppressed reaction—was for her.
He swallowed his fury, forcing his tone into something resembling calm. “And did you get what you wanted from her?”
Thorn’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a thin smile. “Not yet. But she’ll crack.”
He strode across the room, stopping in front of the map of The Gilded Empire hanging on the wall.
His gaze lingered on the northeast, the region once known as the Kingdom of Adruimor before The Empire’s conquest. The faint lines of old borders still ghosted beneath the cartographer’s inks, reminders of a past that had been all but erased.
“We’re running out of time.” Abernathy gestured toward his desk, where a single note lay atop the meticulously arranged stacks of paper.
Even from across the room, the weight of it was evident, its edges pristine and untouched save for the golden bird with red wings embossed at the top, the unmistakable emblem of The Gilded Empire.
The fine parchment was almost too delicate beneath his fingers. The Empire had sent its elite troops to retrieve the runaway ward, and once they found her, they intended to launch a full investigation into The Institute and its headmaster.
Tehvan’s expression didn’t waver, but his thoughts churned.
He knew Abernathy’s desperate attempts to keep The Empire at bay would fail, despite how much he tried to reason with them and ensure that the situation was under control.
It wasn’t, of course. Tehvan had ensured that his brother’s efforts would be futile.
“I thought I had more time,” Abernathy muttered, tearing his gaze from the map to look at Tehvan.
“Perhaps, but a runaway ward is a dangerous thing. The Empire wouldn’t sit idle for much longer.
” Wards weren’t just ex-students. They were repositories of knowledge, walking symbols of what The Empire’s enemies wanted most: empire-trained alchemists and enchanters, individuals who could tip the scales of power.
“Yes, I know.” Abernathy snarled. “Underground groups, rebels… Any number of fools would gladly take her in.”
He let the thought hang, but the weight of his words settled over the room.
The implications were clear. A breach like this wouldn’t just embarrass The Institute; it could ignite unrest in the outer regions, even incite another rebellion like the one that had nearly toppled The Empire generations ago.
Control was everything and a runaway ward opposed that.
It was a humiliation not only for The Institute and The Thorn Family, but for The Gilded Empire itself.
Tehvan didn’t care about any of that, though. All that mattered was reuniting with Elora and getting her as far away from this damnable place as possible.
He set the note back on the desk. “And if they find her?” he asked carefully, watching Abernathy’s reaction.
He moved to the bar cart, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
He didn’t answer immediately, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a long sip.
“They’ll question her,” he said finally.
“Learn everything about my experiments, and then they’ll seize my research for themselves.
We must retrieve her before they do. And she must be silenced.
” Abernathy’s tone was as cold as the glass in his hand.
He had already sent guards to Ravenpoint, though Tehvan had ensured their efforts would only lead to dead ends. But the Empire’s troops were another matter. He couldn’t interfere with them. All he could do now was pray that Elora followed the plan he had laid out for her.
“We already have a unit hunting her in Ravenpoint,” Tehvan said carefully. “What more do you suggest?”
Abernathy’s lips curled into a smile that sent a chill through him. “Way ahead of you, brother,” he said. “I’ve hired the best bounty hunter in the region to track her down. She won’t slip through his fingers.”
Tehvan’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to nod.
Inside, his thoughts churned with doubt.
A bounty hunter. She was clever, resourceful, but she was also tired, inexperienced, and vulnerable.
Had he asked too much of her? If she faltered, if she stumbled even once, this hunter would find her. And then it would all be over.