Chapter 10
Chapter
The next morning, I made my way toward the training room, a few minutes late. Was this truly a good idea? For many reasons, certainly not. But for me a handshake was binding. Besides… I needed those trade deals.
Once I secured the signed document from Cavareth, I would send word to my father. Then our ships would sail again, and the Family Veymaris would breathe once more.
I stopped before the heavy doors of the training hall. My palms were slightly damp, so I wiped them against the dark blue leather of my uniform. Drawing in a deep breath, I stepped inside.
The room was empty, save for Aidenar, who stood beside a table lined with training weapons. As always, he was impeccably dressed, lounging against the edge with that easy arrogance of his and a faint smile that promised trouble.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” he said at once.
“For a moment, I thought the same,” I admitted.
A foolish part of me wanted to ask how his night was but I silenced it before the thought escaped.
“Come,” he said simply.
I frowned, “Where exactly?”
“You asked for discretion. This is hardly the place for it.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked out. I sighed and followed.
We passed through long corridors that led deeper into the forgotten parts of the palace. The walls grew darker here, the stone etched with age, the tapestries faded to ghosts of color. At last, he opened a pair of heavy doors and ushered me inside.
The chamber was vast, lit by tall windows overlooking the gardens. Sunlight filtered through in soft ribbons. Statues lined the walls, and ancient portraits watched from above. On the other side stood shelves of books. The room was filled with history and old relics.
“This used to be one of the old galleries,” he said. “Now it’s more a storeroom than a hall of art. But it’s perfect. No one ever comes here. Two entrances: one from the palace, the other from the gardens.”
I gave the place a slow glance, then couldn’t help but ask, “Is this where you bring your… Ladies?”
Aidenar’s lips curved into a grin. “No. You’re the first ‘Lady’ I’ve brought here. But don’t worry, I have other places for that. Far more comfortable ones.”
I snorted, “If I must endure this, then spare me your flirtations.”
“What flirtations?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“Your endless tales of conquest. Sleep with whomever you wish, it’s none of my concern. But I have no desire to hear about it.”
“Still jealous?” he teased, though I caught the glint in his eyes, sharp and searching. I wasn’t sure which licentious situation he was mentioning. There were too many…
“No,” I said coolly. “Merely wondering, if you possess any personality beyond being the court’s favored rake.”
That hit its mark. His smile faltered, and briefly he looked almost unsure of himself. Satisfying.
“Let’s begin,” I said crisply. “Take off every Elementar you’re wearing.”
He shot me a suspicious look but obeyed, slipping off his diamond signet ring, the diamond necklace, and the jeweled bracelet, tossing them into a pouch.
“Better?” he muttered.
“Much. Now tell me. What can you do?”
He hesitated, “Honestly? Nothing.”
I blinked, “Nothing? You’ve never tried?”
He shrugged, “Only when it happens on its own. Sometimes I knock things over… stir the leaves on a tree.”
I nearly laughed but bit my tongue. There was something gratifying in seeing Aidenar Cavareth, confident, adored, ever in control, utterly inept at something. Still, I pushed the thought aside. I was here to teach, not to mock.
I lifted a small leaf I had taken earlier from the gardens and placed it upon the table between us.
“Move it,” I said quietly.
He exhaled, extended a hand and simply blew the leaf away with a sharp gust of air.
“Try again,” I said, hiding a smile. “Lift it, just a little. Don’t let it fall.”
For half an hour, he struggled to control even the smallest movement. The leaf danced and spun wildly, as though mocking him. His frustration was building, his jaw tightened and shoulders went rigid.
I stepped closer. Unfastening the water flask at my belt, I poured a little into my palm and shaped it into a delicate sphere. It spun slowly, glimmering in the light.
“You must focus your whole mind on your element,” I murmured. “Feel how it moves, how its power flows through you. How you are part of it. All that your mind envisions may be shaped. I am water. You are air.”
I took his hand and turned it palm up. Then I guided the water to his skin. It rested there, spinning gently. A fragile sphere, alive with motion. Beneath it, I felt a faint vibration awaken in him.
“Now push me back,” I said softly. “Between us lies the air, your air.”
The sphere shimmered, swirling between our hands. His gaze, for once, was not mocking. Silver eyes met mine, with intent. Only after some time did he turn them toward his palm and the water rose. It lifted, trembled, and burst in a spray of droplets that sparkled in the light.
“Good,” I said quietly, letting the remaining water fall to the floor. “Now the leaf.”
I placed it upon his hand. He steadied his breathing and narrowed his eyes. Slowly, the leaf rose, quivering slightly, but it held its height.
“Well done. There might be hope for you yet.”
He said nothing, and for the first time since I’d known him, stood silent. I turned away, heading for the door, leaving him with the trembling leaf suspended before him.
“That’s all?” he called after me while simultaneously keeping the leaf afloat. “Where are you going?”
“For today, yes. Until tomorrow, Young Regent,” I said, allowing a small smile to touch my lips, one he would not see.
I left him there, alone with his leaf and his newfound hunger.
The next day, we gathered again in the council. The Inner Court, usually bright with sunlight, was heavy with unease. Lords whispered among themselves, guards stood tense at the walls. I could feel it, a shadow settling over the city.
I had not seen Dricus for several days. I did not think he had gone far, the Gathering was still underway, yet he surely tended his own affairs. He was like a cat, walking his private paths.
As I took my seat, I sensed Aidenar’s gaze.
When I looked his way, he wasn’t watching me anymore, he was staring at his hand.
The same hand where my water had rested the day before.
The memory of that touch felt… too intimate.
If he had mastered his gift sooner, I wouldn’t have to do it.
But part of me wanted him to feel it, to believe that the power within him was real.
The council ran on in somber tones.
“...all carcasses of infected animals are being burned without delay,” one advisor reported, his voice echoing against the marble wall.
“As you hear,” Cassandra said, her chin lifting slightly. “The city remains under control. We will not allow the Plague to spread.”
Pride rang clearly in her voice. Say what you want of her, Cassandra cared nothing for the poor, but she would not surrender control. If she wanted Aidenar to win the Election she had to prove that they managed the situation.
Nevertheless, her composed confidence was broken when Eric Salvadore gestured sharply, summoning his scribe.
The scribe stepped forward and raised a stack of parchments.
“In the archives, we uncovered drawings, accounts, and classical descriptions of the four elements and the gods who once ruled them,” he said and paused for a moment. “But we also found older texts.”
The chamber grew still.
“They spoke of darkness as well. Of shadows that devoured the elements, mankind, and even the gods themselves. In those ancient records, there appeared a figure. A being born of shadow and death. Clad in dark robes, wreathed in a storm of black birds.”
At those words, the memory of ravens, shrieking and beating against stones, stirred in everyone. Cassandra’s beloved control was slipping through her fingers. Eric Salvadore looked at her with just a glimpse of satisfaction.
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Cassandra’s brow furrowed, irritation flashing in her eyes.
“We will not lose our wits to old fables,” she cut in sharply.
“Thirty years ago, when the Red Fever took thousands, none spoke of dying gods. This is another sickness. Temporary.” She paused, then looked at Eric and his scribes.
“However, thank you Lord Salvadore for these discoveries,” she added with fake politeness.
“If you find anything more, bring it directly to the Regent’s chambers. We will discuss it later.”
Her words ended the meeting, however unease lingered in the air. As though even the hall itself doubted her certainty.
The days that followed were filled with Aidenar’s lessons. To my surprise, he progressed quickly, though his temper was insufferable. I had always thought myself impatient, but he was in a realm of his own, frustrated whenever mastery did not come at once.
Whenever he began to complain about my methods, I would say coldly, “If you dislike them, you may always return to your mother’s tutelage.”
That silenced him faster than any spell could.
To Roderick and my servants, I claimed I was practicing meditation.
No one questioned it. Meanwhile, the first ships had sailed from Thalrock, filling me with both pride and relief.
Even my father wrote that he was pleased with my progress.
Small as my successes were, I could tell he wished to encourage me.
Whatever else one might say of the Cavareths, Aidenar kept his word. Now it was my turn to keep mine. And I could not deny it. I was beginning to wonder just what he would become once he truly grasped his power.
As I approached our hidden gallery, a faint voice reached my ears—a girl’s voice. I froze.
He had sworn this place was a secret. If he had brought some court-bred mistress here for his amusements, our lessons would end that very moment. Was I jealous? I had no time to answer myself.
My pulse quickened. I pushed the door open a crack and stopped short.
Before Aidenar stood a young girl, no more than ten or twelve, dressed like a porcelain doll in lace and silk, her blond curls gleaming in the light. I recognized her at once. The same hair as Cassandra. The same eyes as his.
I scolded myself silently for my earlier thoughts.
Aidenar turned, his expression apologetic.
“Lady Veymaris,” he said evenly, though I heard a trace of discomfort in his tone. “Forgive the intrusion. I know we agreed on secrecy, but a certain curious soul followed me.”
He gestured to the girl. “This is my younger sister, Sofia Cavareth.”
I inclined my head politely. For a heartbeat, I wondered if she would mimic her mother—aloof and distant. But her gaze was bright and curious. Her eyes, lighter than Aidenar’s, studied me openly, boldly, as though I were something rare.
“You look… different,” she said at last, eyes trailing over my hair, my figure, my dark leather uniform. “I like it.”
With that, she smiled and skipped toward the door. “Don’t keep secrets from me, Aiden. You never could.”
Then she was gone.
Silence settled again. Aidenar sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry. I know this was meant to stay between us, but Sofia can be trusted. She’s been following me lately. She worries too much and is nosier than a forest fox. Don’t mind her. She’s… odd.”
“Aiden.” The name lingered in my mind, spoken by that little girl. Too long, perhaps.
“If this stays between the three of us,” I said calmly, “I have no problem.”
“Do you have any siblings?” he asked suddenly.
“I do. An older brother.”
I failed to hide the shadow that passed through my voice.
“Why isn’t he at the Gathering?” Aidenar asked before he could stop himself.
I closed my eyes for a moment, then told him the same story I’d told Dricus. Of the sickness that had slowly drained my brother’s strength, until it chained him to his chair.
“Sometimes I think,” I murmured, “that my parents regret it was me who received the gift, not him.”
“Don’t say that.” His voice was low, steady. “No one chooses such things. My father never had the chance to rejoice in mine. Not long after my power revealed itself, he fell asleep and never woke.”
“Does he suffer?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know.” His eyes dimmed. “He just sleeps. The healers watch over him, keeping his body alive, but… it’s been weeks now. I don’t know how long he can last.”
“There’s no cure?”
He shook his head. “None. No one even knows what it is.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing how little the words could offer.
He met my eyes. “So am I. For your brother.”
I sighed. “It seems misfortune walks hand in hand with the gift.”
Silence fell heavy. For a moment, our griefs seemed to mirror one another.
Then I straightened, pushing the weight from my shoulders.
“Enough of what we cannot change,” I said. “Let us return to what we can. Namely—You.”
He pressed a hand to his chest in mock injury straight to the heart, but then, with a quiet grin, nodded. And so, we began again.