The revelations of the past few days have left my thoughts tangled in a storm. Eloise's attack replays in my mind like a cracked record, each loop more maddening than the last. And now, the Crown Prince, the heir to the throne, behind it all? Just thinking of it sends a chill up my spine. As if that weren't enough, this strange mage, Adrian, has suddenly fixated on her. A man whose mind sways between madness and calculation, whose eyes peel back more than skin. Eloise is caught at the center of it all, in the eye of a hurricane she doesn't even see coming.
Father's idea to bring in a mage was sound on paper, but this mage? Adrian isn't just eccentric, he's unstable. One moment, a detached scholar. The next, a child laughing at secrets only he finds funny. I might be able to survive his insanity. But Eloise? No. She shouldn't have to.
I pace the hall, heavy boots muffled by the polished floor, thoughts clawing at each other in my mind. If she must train under him, I need to be sure. I need to know what kind of man he truly is. And there's only one person in this estate who would have answers.
Father.
I stop in front of his door and steel myself.
.
.
.
Knock Knock
"Father, may I enter?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
A moment of silence, then a low, even reply:"Enter."
Father is buried behind a mountain of paperwork, his pen scratching across parchment like a blade carving through ice. He doesn't even look up when I enter.
"So you met the mage?" he asks, voice clipped from exhaustion but steady. "You don't need to worry about Eloise's safety. He might look and act like a lunatic, but he always fulfills his contracts."
He pauses to cough, dry and sharp, then continues with something quieter, heavier.
"He was the only one who stood by the Third Princess when everyone else cast her aside. He completed her training, saw it through to the end. Only after that did he leave her. If he hadn't…"
His voice trails off. His eyes flick up to mine for a fleeting moment, something unspoken hanging between us. Then, just like that, he pulls the mask back on.
"Don't worry about Eloise."
A beat passes, then he shifts the topic without warning.
"So. You're having a duel tomorrow."
"Yes. I am," I answer, a little caught off-guard by the sharp turn.
"Rosad's no novice. He's been in the Guardian Squad for three years. You might actually learn something if you survive. Go now."
Just like that, the conversation is over. He doesn't look at me again. Just waves me off like an afterthought.
I step out of the room, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind me.
And then I hear it, his voice, muffled but sharp:
"Does the king know?"
Then, nothing. Silence so thick it feels wrong.
He must've activated a Sound Veil. A privacy ward. Whatever he's discussing, he doesn't want me, or anyone, hearing it.
What was he talking about? Who was he talking to? And why would he hide it from me?
The questions claw at the back of my mind, but I push them away. I don't have the pieces to that puzzle yet, and right now, I have another matter to handle.
The Crazy Mage.
I make my way down the corridor, each step heavier than the last. But as I approach my room, I find Hope loitering just outside, fidgeting like a child waiting for permission to breathe.
"Hope," I say, "Go fetch me something more appropriate for going out."
His eyes light up instantly. He perks up like a dog who's just been handed a leash.
"Yes, young lord!" he says, practically sprinting off in search of clothes.
I watch him go, mildly amused.
Why do the people in this life seem more vibrant than I remember? Was it always this way? Or is it just now, after regression, that I finally notice the colors I never saw the first time?