Ugh. Cutlery lessons were pure torture. Aster would rather wrestle orcs bare-handed than memorize which shiny stabber was allowed to touch which piece of food. He sighed, rubbing his temple as if the memory itself might flee.
Three days. Three days of this noble nonsense. He already knew his siblings were worried sick.
Eloise would be halfway through her fifth lecture by now. Stay safe, don't provoke royalty, don't get stabbed, Aster. He snorted, shaking his head. Rowan, on the other hand, would sulk like a storm cloud if Aster came home late. Silent judgment. The worst kind.
His gaze drifted to the towering pile of books stacked like an execution sentence. Basic etiquette. Proper bowing. What to do and absolutely never do at social gatherings. Apparently breathing wrong was a crime in high society. Exhausting. Utterly exhausting.
He glanced toward the door. No instructor lurking. Good.
A smirk curled on his lips as he grabbed a scrap of paper and slipped out onto the balcony, climbing up to the roof like a delinquent with excellent survival instincts.
Sketching always calmed him. A few strokes of ink, a couple of lazy scribbles, and there it was: the prince. Except uglier. Much uglier. Overdone scowl, absurdly dramatic eyebrows, and a face that screamed entitled mad prince .
Aster let out a quiet laugh.
"Oh no," he muttered, adding exaggerated fangs and an unnecessarily large crown. "Truly terrifying."
He kept drawing. Obscene little details. Petty embellishments. Each line was a tiny rebellion, a silent insult wrapped in ink.
If he was trapped in a gilded cage, he was at least going to decorate the walls with mockery.
Aster didn't know that just a few feet above him, Elodie was there.
The roof had always been her quiet refuge. Her safe place. She watched him from the shadows, snickering softly as he sketched, ink scratching out unmistakably hateful drawings of her brother. Each exaggerated line, each petty detail made her smile despite herself.
Such a rebel, she thought.
Her fingers tightened around her father's journal, clutching it as if it were the last thread binding her to him. Ever since King Leonard was gone, everything had twisted around the throne. The cruelty of her uncle. The sudden, chilling change in her mother. Her brother's volatile moods, his sharp edges and darker episodes.
The weight of it all pressed down on her shoulders, heavy and unforgiving. She wished, not for the first time, that her father were still here.
She sighed.
When she looked back, Aster was gone.
Elodie straightened, scanning the roof, only to stiffen when she sensed him behind her.
"I didn't know this was your spot," Aster said casually, as if he hadn't just been caught red-handed insulting royalty in ink.
Elodie turned, one brow lifting.
"And I didn't know you drew such… expressive things about my brother," she replied.
"I'm sorry about the other day," Aster said quietly, exhaling as he sat beside her. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just trying to survive."
Elodie glanced at him, then looked out toward the distance. "It's fine. You did what you had to do." A pause, then a faint smile curved her lips. "And… I won't lie. Your skills were impressive. Strong."
Aster rubbed the back of his neck. "About the jewel. I'm really sorry. If I get the chance, I'll hunt Mad Dog down myself and end it for good. I'll bring back your jewelry."
He hesitated before adding, "Catherine whispered that it was a precious gift for you before she slipped it into my pocket. I didn't know what it was at the time." His voice dropped. "I'm truly sorry for being an accomplice to that."
Elodie let out a small, almost amused breath.
"That wasn't the Eye of the Forest," she said, smiling.
Aster blinked. "What?"
"If you actually read your books," she teased lightly, "you'd know the royal family also keeps replicas. We wear them publicly in case something happens." Her smile widened. "The real Eye of the Forest is safe in my chambers."
"So you're saying…" Aster slowly processed it, "…what we stole was.,."
"A replica," Elodie finished, then laughed, the sound light and genuine.
Aster stared at her, stunned.
"All that work," he muttered, "all that chaos… for a fake?"
He shook his head, then snorted. "Guess Mad Dog got played at his own game."
And somehow, that made everything feel just a little lighter.
Elodie tilted her head, eyes narrowing with interest. "What intrigues me," she said slowly, "is how you ended up with a divine weapon like that." She studied him more closely and thought
"From its presence alone… it feels ancient. Almost like a relic."
Aster scratched his cheek. "I've been through a lot of hard battles," he said casually. "Let's just say it was loot."
Her brows lifted. "You're an adventurer?"
"Yeah," Aster replied. "Unfortunately."
"Then where's your guild?"
"I don't have a license, so I don't have one," he said with a shrug. "No papers, no protection. Sometimes they even pay me less." His tone hardened. "That's how I met Mad Dog. Turns out he wasn't just some middleman. He was pulling the strings the whole time."
Elodie hummed in understanding. "Ahh." A teasing smile appeared. "You're tougher than you look."
He shot her a look. "That supposed to be comforting?"
"Very," she said lightly. "It's reassuring, actually. A good thing to have a brother-in-law like you."
"Hey!" Aster barked. "Don't just throw that title around!"
She laughed. "What? You are my brother's fiancé. I was shocked too when he bargained for you."
Aster stiffened.
Wait… he bargained?
He had assumed Nikolai only wanted to mess with him. Provoke him. Push his buttons for fun.
"No," Elodie added, her voice soft but certain. "My brother is genuinely interested in you. I've never seen him that intrigued by anyone before."
Aster looked away, unsettled.
For some reason, that bothered him more than anything else so far.
After that peaceful conversation, Aster made his way downstairs, only to find the instructor waiting for him, red-faced and muttering under his breath. Skipping lessons, apparently, was a crime punishable by relentless glare and a lecture that could strip the color from walls. Aster sighed, bracing himself for the verbal storm, but it was fleeting; he had learned to weather such tempests.
Dinner that evening was nothing short of spectacular. The royal dining hall stretched endlessly, walls lined with tapestries that shimmered under the warm glow of hundreds of candles. The long table groaned under the weight of platters heaped with roasted meats, fresh breads, fragrant vegetables, and desserts that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Servants scurried quietly, their movements practiced and seamless, while the air carried a soft mix of spices, roasting meat, and the subtle tang of wine.
He had expected cold formality or worse, the haughty dismissal of those who served, but what he saw surprised him. The royal family treated their staff with a gentle respect that made the hall feel alive, not rigid. Even Queen Eliza herself paused to ladle extra portions onto the maids' plates, smiling softly as she offered a kind word here and there.
It wasn't just a meal; it was a quiet celebration of togetherness. Gentle chatter floated above the clink of plates. Laughter peeked from the corners, soft and easy, like a melody you almost forget but feel glad exists.
By the time the dishes were cleared, most of the hall had emptied, leaving behind the warm glow of candles and the lingering scent of roasted herbs.
Except for Nikolai.
He sat at the head of the table, posture relaxed, gaze distant. His plate remained mostly untouched. He seemed bored, untouchable, almost untethered from the simple human joy around him. Aster couldn't tell if it was pride, indifference, or just another layer of that unshakable presence he carried like armor. Either way, the contrast made the warmth of the hall feel even more alive and human around him.
That was when Aster noticed Nikolai.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. No one sat beside the prince. Not because of rank, but because of presence. Nikolai's pheromones were infamous, overwhelming enough to make even seasoned courtiers uneasy. Suppressants dulled them, but never fully. They lingered in the air like a warning, subtle yet unmistakable. It was the very reason Nikolai despised social gatherings. Too many people. Too many reactions. Too much restraint.
Nikolai caught Aster looking.
Without a word, he reached out and patted the empty seat beside him. Once. Firm. An order disguised as an invitation.
Aster hesitated only a second before walking over and sitting down. The warmth there was immediate, not just from the chair, but from Nikolai himself. Controlled. Contained. Like a fire banked beneath stone.
Nikolai did not look at him right away. But the corner of his mouth curved slightly, satisfied.
For the first time that night, the empty space beside the prince was no longer empty.