The Verant estate woke up tense.
Servants who were usually listless darted past none of them talking. Guards who had yawned through their shifts now stood at attention, their armor polished, their hands on their swords.
The master was home.
Kaelen watched from his window as the gates opened. A column of riders poured through, their armor gleaming, their banners snapping in the winter wind. At their head, a man in black rode.
Lord Marius Verant.
Kaelen studied him. Tall, broad-shouldered, his face was stone, his mouth a hard line, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He did not look at the servants bowing as he passed.
This is the man who raised Caelus and also made his life horrible.
The memories surfaced again: a boy of seven, standing in this same room, watching his father ride away to war. A boy of ten, presenting a painting he had spent weeks on, only to have it dismissed with a glance. A boy of fifteen, drunk for the first time, because sobriety meant remembering that his father had forgotten him again.
Kaelen pushed the memories aside.
Behind Marius, a second rider caught his eye.
Aldric.
The eldest son who was everything Caelus was not. Broad where Caelus was narrow. Confident where Caelus was hesitant. His armor was custom-forged, his sword a masterwork, his posture that of a man who had never doubted his place.
He caught Kaelen's eye as he passed beneath the window. Their gazes locked for a single heartbeat.
Aldric frowned then looked away.
Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadow of the main hall.
The summons came an hour later.
Rin delivered it with trembling hands. "The master wants you in the main hall. Now."
Kaelen looked at his reflection. Pale, thin and unremarkable.
"Help me dress."
The main hall of House Verant was a cathedral of intimidation. It was his first time here.
Kaelen walked its length with his shoulders slumped, his steps hesitant, his eyes fixed on the floor.
But beneath the mask, his mind was running.
The hall was full. Fuller than it should have been for a simple family reunion. Representatives from half a dozen noble houses lined the walls, their faces carefully neutral, their eyes tracking his progress with the interest of merchants assessing damaged goods.
At the far end of the hall, beneath the banner of the silver hawk, his family waited.
Lord Marius sat in the central chair, a throne of carved blackwood, his hands resting on the armrests with the ease of a man who had never been denied anything. His eyes found Kaelen immediately, held him the same look of disappointment.
Beside him, Aldric stood with his arms crossed his face neutral.
And in a chair to Marius's left, an unfamiliar man sat and next to him a familiar woman. She was older than the girl in his memories, her hair was dark, her face sharp, her posture rigid. She wore the colors of a different house. Her eyes were sharper than he remembered.
Seraphine.
The memories surfaced: a girl of fourteen, laughing as she chased him through the gardens. A girl of sixteen, crying at her mother's funeral. A girl of twenty, her face blank as she was packed into a carriage and sent north to marry a man she had never met.
She had been Caelus's only support in this house.
Now she looked at him like he was a stranger. The original would have not been able to take the blow.
Kaelen stopped at the designated distance and waited.
The silence stretched. Marius let it build, let the weight of it press down.
Then he spoke.
"You look better than I expected."
Kaelen kept his voice soft, deferential. "It's thanks to the healers my brother sent."
Aldric snorted. "I heard you climbed onto a railing like a performing and fell off."
Chuckles were heard, the words were designed to wound and remind everyone in the room that Caelus Verant was a joke.
Kaelen let them land, he let his shoulders slump further and let his eyes drop to the floor.
"Yes, brother. I have learnt from it and will not repeat my mistake."
The words tasted like ash. Ever since he joined the state as a hunter he had never had to bow to anyone.
Marius watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, once, as if confirming something he had already known.
"There is a solution to your… situation."
He gestured, and the representatives lining the walls stepped forward. Two of them a sharp-faced woman in Ashworth colors, a pleasant-smiling man in Duvall blue.
"House Ashworth and House Duvall have expressed interest in an alliance. You will meet their candidates. You will choose one. You will marry before the assessment."
Kaelen blinked. Let his mouth open slightly, let his eyes go wide.
"Marry?"
The confusion was real not at the announcement, which he had expected, but at the timing, before the assessment. Two months from now.
Aldric stepped forward, his sneer widening. "What's the matter, little brother? I thought you learnt, you are not going back on your word are you."
Marius silenced Aldric with a look. Then he turned back to Kaelen, his voice soft, dangerous.
"This is not a request. You will do this. You will be grateful. And you will not embarrass this house again."
It was a dismissal.
"I understand, Father. Thank you for your generosity."
He bowed then turned. He walked back down the long hall, his steps slow, his shoulders bent, the perfect image of the broken son accepting his fate.
Behind him, he heard Aldric laugh.
He did not look back.
Only when he reached the shadowed bend could no longer sense his father's guard did his spine straighten.
The change was slight something he learnt from a friend whose power was controlling human minds. He just had to do things enough that no servant would remark and no guards would notice. His steps found rhythm and he suddenly did not feel like lighting the estate on fire.
Funny how bowing down can breed dirty thoughts like that. He felt the hum again clearly agreeing.
Going back to his room he saw the guards again ten from the great hall to the first pillar, twelve more to the narrow window where torch light flickered and eight to the passage to his room a month was enough for him to learn them both from sight and Rin's words.
He turned to the passage leading to his room, the air felt cooler.
The first lesson he ever learnt as a child who had a lot of power was that the louder the power the more visible it is and the more enemies you get but weakness moved unseen especially in a world where power was everything and even as an S-class he did not show off as much but still that got him killed.
Rin was waiting in his chambers, her face pale.
"Young master—"
"It's done." He shrugged off the formal coat, tossing it aside then slumped on the bed.
Rin's hands twisted in her apron. "Do you have a plan?"
He turned to face her.
"What do you think of me Rin, I do not have power to make drastic changes."
She looked perplexed.
"The money…?"
"That is for a good life after I leave, marriage is not easy.
He had found out that the original owner was also planning to run away that's why Rin had not asked many questions when he had asked her to sell some things. It brought a new perspective of the original owner's personality that he had not thought about.
"But..."
"Rin, I'm tired can you let me rest."
Silence.
"Yes, young master."
That night, Kaelen stood on his balcony and looked out at the capital.
The city sprawled below, a maze of lights and shadows, of towers and slums, of power and desperation. Somewhere in those streets, the protagonist of the novel was probably living their ordinary life, unaware of the chaos that was coming. Somewhere in those mansions, the families were gathering their forces, preparing for the assessment that would reshape the kingdom.
He closed his eyes and let the hum fill him he had started using the feeling as away to relax.
For a moment, just a moment, he saw something behind his closed eyes.
A presence. Cold and vast, like the darkness between stars. A consciousness that turned toward him, curious, hungry, patient.
Then it was gone, and he was alone on his balcony once more.
In a manor on the other side of the city, a man suddenly opened his eyes, cold and detached.
The pen in his hand had snapped. Ink stained his fingers, black and wet, but he did not seem to care. His attention was elsewhere, drawn by something new he could not name, a thread that had brushed against his consciousness had vanished.
He rose from his desk and moved to the window. The Verant estate was not visible from here but he looked in that direction anyway.
For the first time in years, the Duke of Valtor felt something that might have been curiosity.
He touched his chest, where the strange sensation had originated. His heartbeat was beating fast.
What are you?
The question hung in the cold air, unanswered.
But somewhere across the city, in a shabby room at the edge of the Verant estate, a boy who should have been dead opened his eyes.
The hum pulsed once.