The morning after the banquet dawned with a golden hue spilling through the tall windows of House Aldreth’s capital estate. Despite the tranquility outside, tension still lingered in the halls, woven into the very fabric of noble politics.
Sylas sat alone in the study, surrounded by towering shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls. The scent of parchment and ink filled the air as he carefully turned the page of a book detailing the history of energy cultivation.
He was not permitted to participate in the upcoming trials. His father, Duke Varian, had made that clear. But nowhere had he forbidden Sylas from learning.
The door creaked open. Sylas glanced up, expecting a servant. Instead, Cassius stepped inside, his expression unreadable as always.
“You spend too much time buried in books,” Cassius remarked as he approached. His quiet voice held neither mockery nor warmth—just an observation.
Sylas closed the tome. “And you spend too much time watching.”
A faint smirk touched Cassius’s lips as he leaned against a nearby shelf. “One learns a great deal from watching.”
Sylas met his gaze evenly. “Then you must have learned that I am no threat to you.”
Cassius’s expression remained calm, but his next words carried a weight Sylas did not expect.
“Not yet.”
Before Sylas could respond, the door opened again, and Lady Evelyne entered. She paused at the sight of Cassius but merely raised a brow. “Am I interrupting?”
Cassius shook his head. “I was just leaving.”
With that, he turned and exited, his presence fading like a shadow.
Evelyne watched him go before sitting beside Sylas. She studied him for a moment, then reached out, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.
“You remind me of your father when he was young,” she murmured.
Sylas tilted his head. “Is that a good thing?”
She smiled faintly. “Sometimes.”
He considered that answer, but before he could press further, the door opened once more—this time with less grace.
Dain and Kieran strode in, their usual mischievous grins in place.
“We thought we’d find you here,” Dain said, plopping into a chair without invitation. “Still reading, I see. Are you planning to win a battle with knowledge?”
Kieran chuckled, crossing his arms. “You should know, Sylas, that books won’t help when fists start flying.”
Sylas exhaled through his nose, unbothered by their antics. “And yet, you came here instead of the training grounds. Should I assume you’ve already been beaten today?”
Dain laughed, while Kieran scowled. “Clever words, little brother. But when the trials begin, words won’t save you.”
Sylas merely shrugged. “I have no need for trials.”
That silenced them for a moment. Even Evelyne’s expression darkened slightly.
It was Kieran who spoke first. “You mean you truly won’t fight?”
“It is not my decision,” Sylas replied evenly.
Dain’s smile faded. “Father forbade it, then.”
Evelyne’s lips thinned, but she said nothing.
Kieran leaned in slightly. “And what will you do about that, Sylas?”
Sylas met his brother’s gaze, his mind working behind calm crimson eyes.
“I will wait.”
Dain and Kieran exchanged glances before standing.
“Well,” Dain said, stretching. “Try not to wait too long, little brother. The world doesn’t wait for anyone.”
With that, they left, leaving Sylas alone with his mother once more.
Evelyne sighed. “You test their patience.”
Sylas tilted his head slightly. “They test mine.”
She laughed softly, brushing his cheek with a gentle touch. “Then we are alike, after all.”
For the first time in a long while, Sylas allowed himself a small smile.
Perhaps, in some ways, they were.