After Lloyd left, Caelum and I sat together for a while longer. We didn't talk about familiars anymore. Or magic. Or bloodlines. Just small things. Quiet things.
I asked what his favorite color was. He asked if I liked having my hair untied. He told me the servants said I had good manners. I told him I liked the garden more than the hallways. He didn't correct me. He didn't change the subject. He just listened.
Eventually, he asked something else. "Do you feel better now?"
I looked down at my hands. They weren't shaking anymore. My chest didn't feel tight. My head wasn't heavy. I still didn't know what kind of emotion had swelled through me earlier, but now… I felt calm again.
So I nodded. "Yes."
He smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair away from my cheek. "Would you like to continue visiting the Capital? You started earlier with Gabel, didn't you?"
I nodded again. "I didn't get to meet the ones outside the palace," I added.
He rose from the edge of the bed and offered his hand—not demanding, not rushed, just waiting. I slipped mine into his. And we left the room.
We passed through the western corridors again, retracing steps from the earlier tour. This time, I saw things differently. I wasn't being led. I was choosing to go. My steps were slower, but surer. I wasn't just looking—I was remembering.
The gardens we passed were still in bloom, though the light had shifted, giving the petals a softer sheen. The marble walls were less intimidating. The guards at each post bowed slightly when we walked by. They didn't stare. They just watched Caelum and nodded at me with a quiet kind of respect I wasn't used to.
And then we reached the wide archway that led out of the estate grounds. Past the palace's perimeter. Toward the Knight Quarters.
The Knight Quarters were set beyond the southern courtyard—between the training field and the stables. The buildings were plainer than the palace but far from simple. Stone walls, tall arching windows, banners bearing Caelum's crest, and thick oaken doors that looked like they could withstand war itself.
Inside the open courtyard, I could already hear it—Training. The clang of metal on metal. Grunts. Shouts. Footsteps pounding dirt. Armor creaking. Weapons slicing the air. It wasn't frightening. Just loud. Alive.
Caelum kept me close but didn't tighten his hold. He let me slow my steps, watching the scene before us unfold with wide eyes.
A group of knights were circling the main sparring ring. Some practiced blade techniques. Others were running agility drills with wooden swords and armor trimmed in crimson and black.
And near the edge—sitting casually on the barracks' steps, laughing at something one of the knights said—were three familiar faces.
When they noticed us, they stood immediately. Two of them were broad-shouldered, tall, and nearly identical—Levipath and Manuce, the twin brothers from the De Orath family.
They were dressed in partial armor, tunics damp with sweat and metal pauldrons resting at their sides. Levipath had a thin braid running down his shoulder; Manuce had a scar near his chin.
They didn't bow deeply like the servants. Just placed a fist over their heart and nodded sharply.
"Young master," Levipath said, his voice rough but warm.
"We're honored to meet you properly," Manuce added, grinning a little.
The third figure was smaller, maybe only a few years older than me. Dean, the youngest of the De Orath siblings. He didn't wear armor. Instead, he had a stable apron tied around his waist and smelled faintly of hay and horses.
"I take care of your horse," he said proudly.
"I have a horse?" I asked, startled.
Caelum chuckled. "Not yet. But one is being trained for you. Dean volunteered to oversee it."
Dean gave a shy little nod and looked down, but I could see the pride in his posture. "I picked the gentlest one," he said softly. "She's pale gray. Like snow."
We moved through the training grounds slowly, watching pairs of knights lock swords, adjust stances, and run through drills. Caelum explained that this was his personal division—the Crimson Guard—and that they answered only to him.
One of the knights peeled away from the group when he noticed us watching. He approached with a smooth, practiced gait, the red trim of his cape flaring slightly behind him. His eyes met mine immediately—gray like the sky before a storm, and familiar in a way I couldn't place at first.
Then I remembered. The knight from the carriage. The one who caught me when I tripped. His hair caught the sun as he approached—vivid red, like embers. Not orange. Not brown. But a true, deep red.
He stopped in front of me and lowered to one knee.
"My name is Felix Von Robane," he said with a respectful tilt of his head. "Knight of the Crimson Wolf."
I blinked. "The Crimson Wolf…?"
Caelum smiled at the title. "He earned that name on the battlefield during the War of Hollow Stars," he said. "And it suits him."
Felix's expression didn't shift with pride. He only nodded once, like someone who had been called that name many times and had simply grown used to it.
"You caught me," I said quietly.
He looked up at me. "At the gates?"
I nodded. "Thank you."
He smiled. "Of course, young lord."
Not far from him, another knight leaned against the fencing of the training ring, watching us with curious eyes.
He looked younger than the others—maybe fifteen. His armor wasn't as polished. His stance wasn't as rigid. But there was focus in his eyes, and pride in the way he held himself.
Caelum caught my gaze and waved him over. The boy approached slowly but confidently. His hair was dark brown, brushed back messily, and his cheeks still held traces of youth.
"This is Raphael De Montreve," Caelum introduced. "A new knight in training. He's only recently joined the Crimson Guard."
Raphael bowed deeply. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Grace." I bowed back, unsure if I was supposed to.
"I'm just Elarion," I said softly.
He smiled. "Still an honor."
We spent some time watching the sparring matches. Caelum explained some of the rules. Levipath and Manuce even demonstrated a few techniques, using wooden swords to show how reflexes mattered more than strength. Dean sat near the stable doors, feeding an apple to a pale mare I assumed was meant for me.
I didn't speak much. I didn't need to. I watched. Listened. And for once, I felt like I belonged exactly where I was—not because I had to earn it, but because no one made me feel like I didn't.
Eventually, a bell rang in the distance. A soft, melodic chime. Dinner.
Caelum touched my shoulder gently. "It's time to go," he said. "The cooks will be upset if we keep them waiting."
Felix gave a short salute. Raphael waved. The De Orath brothers offered nods, and Dean gave a shy, one-armed hug before hurrying back to the stables.
I looked back as we walked away. And saw all of them still watching us go. Not out of duty. But maybe—just maybe—because they were already beginning to care.