Chapter 23
Chapter
After three days, I could no longer bear it.
I had to see Aidenar. The worry gnawed at me from within, growing stronger with each passing hour.
The corridors leading to his chambers were all pale, just like the rest of the palace.
Beautiful, yet soulless. I had never been here before.
Each step echoed sharply, as though the palace itself warned me I had no right to come closer.
When I turned past another column, I saw a gathering of people. Cassandra Cavareth stood among the guards, her gown glinting in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. The moment her eyes found me, they narrowed, cold as tempered steel.
“Lady Veymaris,” she said, her voice slicing the air. “What brings you here?”
I faltered for a moment but refused to show hesitation.
“I came to see how the Young Regent feels,” I said. “I’m very worried about this attack.”
A shadow of a smile touched her lips, but there was no warmth in it.
“Oh, of that I have no doubt.” Her gaze swept over me from head to toe. “But you must not think anyone may simply wander into the Regent’s chambers unannounced.”
Before I could answer, Peter, one of the palace guards I had seen before, stepped forward.
“Lady Cavareth,” he said firmly, “it was Lady Veymaris who saved Lord Aidenar’s life. Had she not slowed the bleeding, the healers would never have arrived in time.”
I knew he risked much by speaking for me. Cassandra turned her eyes on him, the look alone could have frozen stone. After a pause, she sighed softly and adjusted the ring upon her hand.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “But I have just come from my son’s chamber. He sleeps. He needs rest and quiet. When his strength returns, he shall appear at court.”
She turned and departed with her attendants, as though descending from a stage she owned. I was left standing in the hall, my pulse quickening with quiet fury beneath my skin. I turned to leave, but a voice called softly behind me.
“Lady Veymaris.” Peter hurried after me. “Lord Cavareth asked for you the moment he woke.”
I stopped at once. “He... he is awake?”
Peter nodded. “Aye. Still weak, but alive. And I am certain he wishes to see you. Please, this way.”
I followed him. The corridors grew narrower, more hidden with each turn. We passed the guards at the main door before Peter leaned closer and whispered,
“I shall show you his secret passage. The Lord used it often when he used to slip out into the city at night. He thought none knew of it... but, well, some of us notice more than he thinks.”
He smiled faintly as we descended winding stairs, then rose again through galleries and a small library. At last, we reached a narrow stairway that ended in a small wooden door. Beyond it lay a dark passage, leading to another set of doors, small, yet heavy.
“I shall enter with you, my Lady, for safety’s sake,” Peter murmured. “Afterwards I will send someone to wait by the library, to escort you back to the Inner Court. It is not safe for you here either.”
He pushed the door open.
Light struck my eyes like a blade. The room was vast, filled with brightness.
White walls, graceful furnishings, bookshelves, a marble table, and several carved statues.
Everything stood elegant, immaculate, yet cold.
In the center, upon a broad bed draped in white canopy, lay him. Aidenar Cavareth.
He was bare-chested, a bandage wrapped around his abdomen, pale as marble. He looked like a sleeping god.
“Lord Cavareth,” Peter said softly.
Aidenar stirred with a low groan.
“Peter, if it is my mother again, tell her I am asleep. For mercy’s sake, protect me if necessary.”
Peter smiled faintly.
“No, my Lord. You have a guest. I took the liberty of letting her in. Lady Veymaris.”
His silver eyes opened at once. He tried to rise too quickly but winced, folding over in pain.
“Slowly,” I said, rushing to his side and steadying him by the shoulder. “Thank you, Peter. I will manage from here.”
“When I recover, remind me that I owe you a proper stone,” Aidenar muttered toward the servant.
“No need, my Lord,” Peter replied with a quiet smile, then left, closing the door behind him.
We were alone.
I sat by his bedside, studying him in silence. The light played through his hair, and the faint stubble along his jaw lent him a rougher beauty. I had never seen him unshaven before. I would have to grow used to it.
“You saved me,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers against my hand. “Had it not been for you, I would not be here.”
“It was the healers who saved you,” I replied, striving to keep my tone composed.
“No,” he said, his voice firm. “You.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt charged, as if one word might set it aflame.
“Perhaps you persuaded me with that dinner,” I said lightly, attempting to break the tension.
“Do you recall what you and Jasmine spoke of before she attacked?” I asked.
He frowned.
“Little enough. She was... strange. Said something about being ‘rewarded by the Lord’. She called him Malric. I thought she meant some noble patron, but she mentioned a Family.” He paused. “I don’t believe anyone in the Gathering would dare to use black magic. Sofia would sense it at once.”
He leaned back against the pillows, his voice growing weary.
“Then I couldn’t move. As though my body were frozen. And then she struck.” His gaze met mine, heavy with gratitude and exhaustion. “Had you not come when you did... I would be dead.”
We spoke a while longer, about nothing that truly mattered, small and trivial things. I didn’t wish to linger in talk of Plague, betrayal, or death.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
“My Lord, your meal,” a voice murmured.
“Not now. Bring it later,” Aidenar replied without looking away from me.
“The healers will be here soon, for your bandage,” the servant added.
Aidenar’s face twisted with annoyance.
I smiled faintly.
“I should go. You need rest.”
“Stay. Please.” His voice was gentle.
I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. He looked at me with such quiet warmth. Without armor, without the mask of irony he so often wore. And that was the most dangerous thing of all. It could break a heart more easily than any blade.
“If you wish... I can come back this evening, after dinner,” I said at last.
“I will wait,” he murmured, smiling faintly as sunlight glinted in his silver eyes.
I moved toward the hidden doors near the shelves.
“How do you know that passage exists?” he asked, surprised.
“Peter brought me through it. Your mother would not let me in.”
Aidenar’s hands curled into fists, his gaze darkening. I did not wait for him to speak. I simply left.
That evening, I spent far too long deciding what to wear.
At last, I drew from my trunk a gown of pale blue.
It was light, airy, and maybe too translucent with a delicate neckline.
I had never meant to wear it. It was too soft, too feminine for me.
My hair fell in loose waves over my shoulders.
I draped Mirabel’s gray cloak around me and pulled a scarf over my head so no one would recognize me.
My red hair betrayed me faster than any name could.
It was after supper and I was about to slip through the servants’ door when voices reached me from our living room. I halted, one hand still upon the door-handle.
My father. But he was not alone.
A second voice followed, sharp and unmistakable.
Cassandra.
What was she doing here?
I drew closer, careful not to let the floor betray me.
“...fair price.” Cassandra said, her tone even, practiced. “For the Dominium and for the Cavareths. It is more than you could ever secure on your own.”
My father answered without haste. “That’s why you came. To barter for votes.”
A soft, humorless laugh followed. “Did you think I came because I missed you?”
Father’s deep laughter rumbled in reply.
“I would never accuse you of any sentiment,” Victor said dryly. “But I wonder whether the boy stands any chance at all. He is young. Even with your backing, his prospects are thin. Why not claim the Regency yourself? You have much more experience and respect.”
“You know they would never choose a woman,” she said with bitterness in her voice.
“They did once,” my father replied.
She scoffed. “You know well how Minerva was. She probably bent everyone’s minds to her will. Or they were afraid she’d reveal all their secrets.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Everything’s going wrong. And now this Plague, as if it couldn’t wait a few months,” Cassandra said.
“It waited years,” Victor said. “Why does this matter so much to you? The Regency. Don’t you have enough wealth?”
There was a pause, heavy as stone.
“Stagnation is decay,” Cassandra said at last. “Those who do not advance are already retreating. You should know something about that.”
Cassandra’s voice dropped lower, turned velvet. “So tell me. What’s your price? I’ll give you as many contracts as you want. Unless you want something else... That, too, I can give you.”
My stomach churned.
“Enough, Cassandra,” his voice went cold. “You made your choice. I was too poor for you back then…”
I could not bear another word. I withdrew silently, the corridor spinning around me.
My father and Cassandra. White City had its own histories, twisted like roots and buried deep beneath marble floors.
But now that my father had arrived, it was he who held the Veymaris vote, and Cassandra knew it.
I shook off everything I had heard, pushing her words from my mind.
I moved through the palace. By now I knew the palace corridors well. I slipped through the side wing, up the stairs, until I reached the heavy door. I knocked lightly against the shelf to announce myself.
Aidenar lay upon the bed, a fresh bandage wrapped about his wound. He must have been in pain still, for he had not moved from his bed. But when he saw me, a smile touched his lips.
He pushed himself up slightly, resting against the pillows. I sat in the chair by the bed.
“You dress like that,” he rasped with a crooked smile, “and plan to sit so far from me? You don’t need to fear me,” he added, one brow raised. “As you see, I am wounded and quite defenseless.”
“That’s when you are the most dangerous,” I replied with a smile, forcing myself not to stare at his bare chest.
The heat of White City never waned, the nights were heavy and warm, and the candlelight danced across his skin.
The play of light on his shoulders and chest made it almost impossible to look away.
I remembered the way he was holding my body when we kissed in the garden.
The passion, the fire, the desire. But he was hurt and I wanted him to heal, so I shook those thoughts from my mind.
Aidenar told me tales of his youth. At some point, we decided to play cards, and I remembered the night in the gambling house. Perhaps that was the first time he had ever looked at me differently.
I took the deck from the table and joined him on the bed. I taught him the sailors’ games from Thalrock and the strange sayings that came with them.
We played for a long while. I told him of my childhood on the islands, of my father, who made me gut my first salmon, of tempests on the sea, of the trouble I was always finding. I showed him scars from my old adventures.
“I do not know,” he said with a half-smile, “how someone so beautiful can be so brutal. Maybe that’s how you lure the unfortunate men into your nets.” I rolled my eyes at that, though my lips curved despite myself.
Our talk dwindled. Aidenar’s eyes closed more often, weariness crept upon him.
“Stay a while longer,” he whispered as I tried to get up.
He slid lower on the bed until his head rested against my stomach. I froze. His hair brushed softly against my skin.
Slowly, I laid my hand upon his head and stroked his hair.
I don’t know how long we lay there. It was as if the world beyond the door didn’t exist. It was strange.
We had kissed before, yet this moment felt deeper, as though time bent around us.
No pretense, no masks. He was tender and calm.
And I… I was surprisingly vulnerable. I had never allowed myself to be so defenseless with anyone before. I felt safe with him.
He took my other hand, kissed its back, and held it against his chest. We lay there in silence until his breathing grew even, peaceful. I waited until he had fallen asleep, then gently slipped away and left the room.
Peter was waiting in the corridor. Without a word, he led me back to my chambers. I didn’t know what he thought of me. But it didn’t matter. Not that night.