Vencian shifted his weight and adjusted his sleeves, straightening the cuff as if it needed attention. The silence between him and Aline lingered after her last words about Seris, heavier than either of them cared to carry further. He felt the weight of her gaze on him, waiting for him to say something else. Instead, he drew a slow breath and let his eyes drift to the movement of carriages below.
If I let her keep pressing, she’ll dig into places I can’t answer. Better to shift the ground before she decides to test me again.
He turned to her. "Enough about me. How have things been at your side?" His tone was casual, though his mind sharpened in focus. "Did your father keep you cooped up at Noriel estate the whole break, or did you manage to do something useful with the time?"
Aline blinked at the sudden change. Her lips pressed together briefly as if deciding whether to point out the obvious deflection. Then she exhaled, letting her shoulders ease a fraction. "My side?" she echoed, half amused, half resigned. "You want to hear about my uneventful days while the world collapses around yours?"
Her attempt to brush it off didn’t fool him. He kept his voice even. "It would do me well to hear it. So, yes. Tell me."
For a moment she looked as though she would push back, but then her expression softened into reluctant compliance. Aline leaned her elbows on the window frame. "If you really want my side, then fine. Father sent me back to Noriel estate for most of it. Said the Hollow Apostolate’s reach was too close for comfort in Angante."
Vencian kept his eyes on her. The Hollow Apostolate—terrorists from the Aurian Empire in the north. They called themselves rebels against the True Light, the kingdom’s faith, but all they brought was blood.
"They’ve been louder since last year," she went on, brushing back her hair. "Every time the priests mention the True Light, someone swears the Apostolate will make them pay." Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel★fire.net
Her mouth tightened before she continued. "I even went to Kaar," she said, her voice dipping. "The city’s still scarred from last year. You can walk for blocks and see nothing but ruins and families trying to piece together who they lost."
Vencian stayed silent. The Kaar massacre had happened only a year ago, when nine Apostolate agents crossed the border and killed indiscriminately. Thousands died overnight. Soldiers who survived the war called it worse than any battle they had seen.
Aline shifted her weight, her arms folding. "I thought I could help. It turned out there’s little a girl with letters and coin can do. The streets are still broken. Half the families don’t even know where their dead are buried."
She let out a brief laugh that held no humor. "I came back more useless than when I left. Father tried to console me, saying it was an experience at least, but I knew it was nothing more than a failure."
Vencian finally spoke. "You stepped up when no one else would. That’s not failure."
She glanced at him, eyes narrowing. "That almost sounded like praise."
He allowed the faintest curve at his lips. "Don’t expect it to happen again."
Aline shook her head, though her expression eased. "That’s better. I knew if I kept talking long enough, you’d slip."
Vencian thought to himself. She’s too proud of even the smallest thing.
He moved toward the stairway, signaling the conversation had reached its limit. She caught the hint and walked beside him as they descended.
"There it is," she said with a quick grin. "I knew you’d wriggle out instead of answering."
The stairway opened toward the academy gates where carriages lined the street. Servants waited nearby, some holding reins, others clustered in conversation. Aline’s coachman spotted her and hurried forward to open the door of her carriage.
She slowed her steps and looked at him again. "So this is where we part?"
"For now," Vencian replied.
Her eyes searched his face once more, as though hoping to catch a crack in his composure. "Take care, Ven. I mean it."
She lingered as if about to say more, but then pressed her lips together and stepped into her carriage. The door shut behind her with a muted thud, and the coach pulled away into the flow of traffic.
Vencian remained still until the carriage disappeared from sight. Only then did he turn toward his own. His valet waited nearby, bowing slightly when he approached.
He climbed inside without a word. The cushions sagged comfortably beneath him. Through the small window, the city stretched outward, rooftops layered under the pale afternoon sky.
Quenya floated across from him, arms crossed. Her small figure leaned against the window’s edge, mimicking his earlier stance. "That could have gone worse," she said dryly.
He kept his gaze forward. She’s right. It could have. Aline held back more than she pressed. Still... didn’t think it would be harder than talking to Vencian’s blood brother and mother.
The carriage jolted into motion, wheels clattering over uneven stone. Servants and merchants blurred past as they moved deeper into Ralan.
The academy offered dormitories, but Vencian had no need of them. In Ralan, finding a residence was costly for most, yet his family’s mansion stood waiting, staffed even during his absence.
Soon, the city noise shifted to a quieter district. The carriage slowed before a broad iron gate, swinging open as guards in Vicorra livery stepped aside. Beyond it, a mansion rose in dignified silence, its walls familiar even after months away.
The carriage rolled to a stop in the courtyard. The front doors opened, and the head maid came forward, bowing low. Her voice carried a practiced steadiness. "Welcome home, my lord."
Vencian descended from the carriage, boots landing firmly on the stone. His valet followed, carrying a small case in hand.
He stood still for a moment, surveying the mansion. The place was unchanged, but the air felt different to him now.
Home sweet home. Let’s see how long before it tries to strangle me too.
He let the thought rest as the servants awaited his word.