Kaen's thoughts arrived before the light.
It wasn't unusual. His thoughts always arrived before he opened his eyes—his brain was a paranoid machine searching for a way out, even though the door was wide open before him. He'd learnt to live with it. But he hadn't asked to become like this.
That morning, a single word echoed in his head.
Cain.
He stared at the ceiling. The first murderer in Genesis: the man who killed his own brother. God had marked him, not to punish him, but to protect him.
'Why did she call me that?'
He'd spent most of the night asking himself that question, finally arriving at two conclusions. Seraphina knew something, and he didn't know what she knew.
'Pathetic score.'
He sat up in bed, rubbed his face and looked around his room — a bed, a desk, a window, and a mattress so hard it could have been used as a blunt weapon. He sighed, got dressed and opened the door.
The corridor smelled of cold coffee and the previous night. A few students were still hanging around, their steps heavy, the sort of gait you have when you've technically slept but your body hasn't got the memo. Some were just bruised, others had the look of those who'd failed and didn't yet know where to go.
A few of them looked at him, then looked away.
'The Butcher.'
He'd heard that the night before, first a whisper then a conversation here and there. A name he hadn't chosen, one that had been forced upon him. Kaen was nothing like a butcher — butchers were loud, messy and covered in blood. Well, all right, he might have been covered in blood after the fight with Albert, but that was a one-off. What annoyed him was that ridiculous name.
'Butcher. Seriously.'
He sighed and carried on walking. Then he stopped.
Séraphina was standing by a window at the end of the corridor, a cup in one hand. Her white hair was slightly dishevelled, and she wore nothing to indicate her rank. Yesterday, she'd looked like a princess ready for war. This morning, she just looked like she'd had a bad night's sleep. It was almost… cute.
Almost.
Except she'd spotted him even before he'd rounded the corner.
'Of course.'
For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Neither of them knew how to bring up what had happened the night before, so neither of them did.
Kaen cleared his throat.
"You're up early."
"So are you."
She wasn't looking at him — she was staring at her cup, which she held in one hand, without drinking.
'She hasn't slept either.'
A silence.
"I was looking for a café," he said. "There's one near the gardens, apparently."
Seraphina looked up.
"I know the place."
A silence. Kaen shrugged slightly.
"Right, then."
Seraphina held his gaze for a second.
"All right."
They walked. Kaen kept her in his peripheral vision—the way she placed her feet, her hands by her sides, a presence unlike any other student at the academy. He wondered if she was watching him too, and glanced over. Her face was perfectly neutral, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
'That's a yes.'
The café was modern, recently refurbished, with a clean sign, bright windows, and the scent of macarons wafting through the door.
Kaen pushed open the door and froze.
Solvane was sitting by the window. She was holding a macaron between two fingers and bringing it to her mouth in small, measured bites, her posture perfect, as always. But her eyes were half-closed. Solvane hadn't forgotten to be a princess — she'd just forgotten, for a moment, that someone might be watching her.
Across from her, Azriel held a cup of black tea, her back straight, both hands on the cup. She wasn't eating, she wasn't speaking. She was waiting, and she looked as though she could wait for a very long time.
Then she looked up. Her red eyes rested on Kaen, then on Seraphina, then back on Kaen. They lingered there a little too long.
She said nothing. Her blood-red eyes took in the information, as always.
'Splendid. Of all the people in the world, it had to be those two.'
Solvane turned around, saw Kaen, and her face broke into a smile—broad, immediate, without malice.
"Kaen!"
Then she saw Séraphina. The smile didn't fade, but it wavered slightly. Just a little.
"You're… here. Both of you."
"Hello," said Kaen.
He sat down. Offered no explanation. Séraphina stood for a second, then sat down too.
Silence. Solvane broke it, because Solvane always broke silences.
"How are you feeling? After yesterday?"
Her voice was sincere, not curious, unambiguous, just concerned. Solvane was always sincere. That was sometimes a problem.
"Fine," he said.
"You don't look fine."
"I look the same as usual. "
"That's what I'm saying."
'Always a comforting word, my sister.'
A waitress appeared from behind the counter. Clean apron, efficient gait, the look of someone used to young masters.
"What will it be?" she asked with a slight curtsy.
Kaen pointed to the Solvane's macaron and asked for tea. Seraphina asked only for tea. The waitress nodded and went on her way.
Silence returned. Azriel was observing Seraphina, not staring, just with a calm attention that took in every detail without reacting to any of them. Seraphina seemed to sense it. She remained composed, her hands resting on the table, her posture flawless.
But Kaen noticed the details — the tension in her jaw, her thumb pressing against the side of the cup, the fact that she hadn't taken a single sip.
'She's thinking about it too.'
Solvane turned to Seraphina.
"Thank you for accepting Kaen yesterday."
Séraphina looked at her. Something flashed briefly across her face. Then she nodded.
"He deserved it."
Kaen looked at her. Her tone was flat. But something didn't sit right.
'What exactly did you mean by that?'
The macaron arrived. Kaen took a bite — sweet, delicate, melt-in-your-mouth. Delicious. Under normal circumstances, he would have savoured it.
Azriel set down her cup. Slowly. Deliberately.
She looked up at Séraphina.
"By the way. I wanted to ask you something."
Silence fell suddenly. Kaen felt Séraphina stiffen beside him, almost imperceptibly. Solvane herself stopped chewing.
Azriel opened her mouth.
The bell above the door jingled.