Aveline folded the robe with quiet care, smoothing every crease as though it were something fragile, something precious. When she finally placed it beside her, she lingered for a moment, her fingers resting lightly over the fabric.

If this was all she could have from him... Then it was enough. More than enough.

She would not become his weakness.

She might not understand politics or power the way others did, but she understood this much—someone like Theron, someone so decisive, so unwavering... would be forced to choose again and again. And if she stood too close, too openly by his side... she would become the easiest thing to use against him.

A vulnerability.

And she refused to be that.

Theron, meanwhile, held her close, his brows faintly drawn together. Something had shifted. He could feel it, even if he couldn’t name it.

Aveline had gone quiet.

And silence, when it came to her, was never simple.

It meant she was hurting... or thinking... or deciding something she wouldn’t say out loud. He couldn’t read her mind. Not yet. But there was one language he trusted more than words.

So, he pulled her closer.

His arms tightened around her, grounding, certain. And he kissed her—slowly, deeply, as though he could press every unspoken promise into that single act. As though he could make her feel what he could not yet fully say.

Marriage... love...

Those words felt both too small and too heavy for what he carried for her.

But one thing was absolute. No one would make her feel small. No one would hurt her.

And if the world stood against him for choosing her... Then he would stand against the world.

When he finally left her side, it was only for a moment. He returned to his chambers in a flash of light, ignoring the insistent knocking at his door as he dressed.

Today...

He had already decided.

He would not turn his back on her again.

-----

By the time they stepped out together, the Vantaris mansion had transformed.

A feast had been laid out in the grand dining hall—lavish, excessive, prepared in honor of the Crown Prince. Edric had spared no effort.

But Aveline noticed something else entirely. Theron’s attention never left her. Not once.

Even seated at a long table filled with watchful eyes, his focus remained anchored to her—as if the rest of the room did not matter.

And that... Made everyone uncomfortable.

She could feel it. The glances. The quiet tension. The unspoken questions.

So... she slipped away, just for a breath of air, to escape the weight of it all. But even outside, the silence didn’t last. Whispers carried easily through the corridors as they talked about Theron.

"The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree..."

Aveline froze.

At first, anger flared. Sharp and immediate. She almost stepped forward, ready to confront them, to demand what they meant.

But she stopped herself. Because whispers like that... rarely came from nothing.

So when she appeared before them, the maids startled, their faces draining of color. And under her steady gaze, they spoke.

Truth, or something close enough to it...About the King, about his marriage to a noblewoman of high standing who helped him ascend the throne, only to later abandon her and her family for a mistress, about the scandal and betrayal, and about history repeating itself.

The words hit Aveline like cold water. All at once, pieces began falling into place.

Theron’s reaction when she had once asked to stay by his side as something less than a wife... as a mistress...

The way he had looked at her... It had never been about lack of desire. It had been pain. A wound far older than her.

Her chest tightened.

She had only been here a few days... And already, people were beginning to talk. To compare. To draw lines between him and his father.

Because of her. Because of how he looked at her. Because of how openly he chose her.

Her fingers curled at her sides.

The decision she had made earlier... It only grew stronger now.

If staying meant becoming the reason his name was dragged through the same mud... Then she couldn’t stay. No matter how much it hurt.

To move forward, is the separate, for now.

-----

As the sun slipped lower into the sky, Theron led her out of the Vantaris mansion and across the other side of the city. He wore his hood drawn low, enough to make his identity less obvious, and Aveline found herself oddly grateful for that small mercy.

She had packed everything she considered hers. Her roses. Her clothes. And the night robe Theron had given her. More than any words, that robe had become proof that she held a place in his heart, even if he had not yet claimed her openly. That made it precious to her.

In the distance, rising from the center of the city atop a small hill, stood the palace—Theron’s home. And yet here he was, walking with her at the city’s edge, half-hidden like a thief.

She understood why he was doing it. He was trying to protect her.

But if loving her meant he would have to live this way—constantly looking over his shoulder, constantly forced to hide—then her decision had only been confirmed.

And as they continued on, the city thinned into quieter roads, where the forest began to press close again. There, standing behind fortified walls and gleaming with old power, was a structure that nearly rivaled the palace itself.

The Crown Arcanum.

Aveline’s fingers tightened unconsciously around Hamilton. A little earlier, he had drifted away from them for a while, and for one brief moment she had nearly forgotten he was there. But now Hamilton shifted against her palm, pressing closer as if to remind her that he would stay no matter what happened next.

That small gesture steadied her.

Theron brought her inside to a grand room that looked more like a library than a study and spoke briefly with a man waiting there. The man’s eyes moved over her from head to toe before he gave a short nod.

Theron then pressed a wooden token into her hand. Carved into it was a rune she did not recognize.

"If you’re in danger, press this," he said. "I’ll be here in a moment."

Aveline wrapped her fingers around the token and looked up at him, offering him a soft smile. "I will."

Her throat tightened slightly when an older woman entered the room. She looked more like a strict governess than a maid, and Aveline straightened at once. Theron gave the woman a nod, and she looked from him to Aveline before guiding her out of the room.

Aveline noticed then that Theron did not correct anyone’s assumptions.

The cruel prince walking hand in hand with a woman of unknown origins would cause enough scandal on its own. He knew that. And yet he did not care. Not even a little.

Before she was taken away, Aveline glanced back at him one last time.

Her smile came from the heart.

Theron smiled back.

The moment she disappeared from sight, his expression changed.

The softness vanished.

His eyes hardened.

Then, in a flash of light, he disappeared.

When he reappeared, he was back in the Caelvaris mansion.

"Summon Lady Rosalyn," he demanded, his voice cutting through the grand hall and stunning everyone into silence.