"We wouldn't hear of it, Your Highness," Crisyn shook her head, wiping flour from her hand on her apron. "You and your men need your energy to focus your efforts on far greater things."
"Keeping our stomachs full is no small thing, Crisyn. You're likely the most important of us all." He took the plate from her with a soft smile, the sweet aroma of the breakfast making his crackling headache a bit more tolerable. The cook curtsied with a smile in exchange and walked back to the kitchen. He’d lost count of how many times he’d told her she didn’t have to curtsy, but she was just as stubborn as he was.
Asterious carried his plate of food to the table where Tyrios, Wyran, Gariel, and Riven were seated, discussing for the millionth time Riven's most recent intel about the dark creatures Sinevia was summoning as spies to help her crush any resistance before it began—and to track down the prince.
In fact, it was Riven's recent sighting of one across the Arengol River that had prompted their journey to the Shadow Woods. It was a clear sign they had even less time than Asterious thought. And though he knew that he should be wholly consumed by this and the urgency of it all, his focus strayed elsewhere—on finding his mother before it was too late—and now, the infuriating girl in the tower.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Wryan greeted, biting into a crisp apple as the prince approached.
Asterious rubbed his temples. "Morning Wryan."
"Another one of those nights?" Wryan frowned.
Asterious only grimaced and shoved Wryan's shoulder. "Still not as bad as you after a night of drinking."
Wyran chuckled with a headshake. “Boy, you’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“How could I?” A laugh rumbled from Asterious. “You came down for a training session wielding a broomstick, for gods’ sake. I should’ve let you use it for our spar.”
“You should have. All the more fun it would have been to beat you with a broom.” Wyran brushed his knuckles against the table with a hearty laugh, his rounded nose widening as he flashed a grin.
When their chuckles died down, Asterious leaned an elbow on the table’s surface and lowered his voice. "Wryan, you have more knowledge of the magickind classification than anyone here. And though I know we have our disagreements, I want your opinion on something."
Wryan hunched over, his expression growing serious. “Is this about the girl? Because you know what I think of the whole situation. The eyes don’t lie, and hers have a hell of a lot to say.”
"Yes, I know, Wyran…but that is where you and I differ. Her life is not ours to take, simply because she is something we don’t understand.”
Wyran grunted with a sigh, shaking his head, this time with disappointment. “I’ll admit your father was a bit extreme, Asterious. But you can’t let your desire to be unlike him become your fatal flaw. There was some wisdom in Daemar’s ways. The worldissafer without magic, and we cannot let our guard down just because it’s taken a new form.”
Asterious held his composure. “So you still think I should just kill her after I make her talk?”
Wyran lifted his hands and leaned back in a gesture of surrender. “I never said that. I only said caution has kept you alive this long. Don’t abandon it now. Not everyone is what they seem.”
“Well, that’s exactly what’s keeping me up at night.” Asterious folded his hands across the table. “I think the ring might be the wrong thing to be focusing on, at least for now. The more I talked with her, the more I got the sense that she knows something—that she’s hiding something—about the Shadow Woods." Asterious' grey eyes flickered.
"You think she might know about the weapon?" Wyran raised both eyebrows and straightened his shoulders.
"Maybe. Or that she has some sort of power making her immune to whatever horrors are in that forest. Which could certainly aid us in getting it, if that’s the case." Asterious pressed a hand to the back of his neck as though trying to soothe a troubling thought. “Perhaps she escaped from the Veil? Do you think that’s possible?"
Wryan knitted his brows together, his mustache twitching as he spoke. "Asterious, you know that’s absurdity. The Veil is death. It was created by a Shadowblood. No one’s breaking through it, on either side. Your father made sure of that."
"I know." The prince hung his head. Shadow magic was impenetrable by any other magic. And he feared it might mean his sister was beyond saving if it’d taken root too deep in herheart. His thoughts began wandering. "If Sinevia truly did kill our father, it’s no wonder after what he did to her…to us."
“Your Highness," Wryan's face grew stern. "I won’t pretend your father didn’t make mistakes, but I served at his side for many years, and he was a good king, and a just man, until he was blinded by the loss of his queen. It made him rash, and paranoid, and—
“Cruel.” Asterious looked up across the table, his eyes meeting Wyran’s.
“In some ways, yes.” Wyran sighed. “And think of it—it all stemmed from heartbreak. A ruthlessness awoken by grief. So guard that heart of yours the way you guard your secrets. Because nothing will ruin you faster than loving too deeply.”
“Whether or not love played a part in his downfall if no longer relevant. The fact is he is dead, and Sinevia is blind to her power and we’re running out of time before she destroys the rest of what he left behind.” Asterious drew in a long breath. “And that’s where the girl comes in. I think she can help us.”
Wyran raised an eyebrow, his doubtfulness clear. “That’s if you can get her talking. She’s taking advantage of your patience.” He smirked. “If you’d like suggestions, I have many methods.”
Asterious shook away the comment. Wyran valued the effectiveness of force for these types of situations, but the prince was all too familiar with what it felt like to be forced, helpless against another’s will.
“I’m sure you do, Wyran, but I’d like to try my own tactics with her first. I'm hoping at the very least I can get her to slip up and say something. Because I doubt she’ll tell me anything else willingly. She’s stubborn. I’m sure the last thing she wants to do is help me,” Asterious sighed. “And I can’t blame her." He circled a knot in the wood of the table with the tip of his finger as Caramyn’s accusations echoed in his mind. She had every reasonto believe he was a monster. And dragging her here against her will certainly wasn’t helping to convince her otherwise.
"Careful, Highness. Sounds like you might be feeling something for your captive.” Wryan’s voice lowered. “Remember, this is just another form of what I’ve taught you. A strong leader has no choice but to close off the heart’s connection to the mind, to put emotions aside at all times. You know that more than anyone. And if you forget it, look at those scars to remind you.” As the man leaned back in his chair at his final point, he huffed out a distorted chuckle. "Though I can't say I fault you for it. She could certainly turn a few heads."
