Chapter 46

There is a path to be found within books.

Kosha was currently carving the ancient maxim into the deepest chambers of his soul.

Lucien had graciously cleared one corner of his immense mahogany desk and provided him with a velvet-cushioned chair, so Kosha had spent the entire day anchored there.

The glowing green lizard had brought him eight heavy tomes, every one of them essential. Although Kosha had studied ancient languages as a child, years of disuse had left him painfully rusty, turning the work of translation into an agonizing crawl.

I must remain calm, he reminded himself, rubbing his burning eyes. If I rush through the magical theory and mishandle the treatment, I could kill the prince.

He glanced down at the lizard, which lay sprawled across the polished wood like a deflated balloon. For a creature composed entirely of mana, it looked far more exhausted than the man performing the actual research.

Kosha plucked a plump, dewy grape from the silver fruit basket, one of the luxurious refreshments Lucien ensured was constantly replenished. Having spent most of his life in profound poverty, Kosha remained deeply moved by the prince’s boundless generosity. He offered the grape to the creature.

The lizard immediately perked up and snapped its jaws around the fruit. Since it possessed no physical digestive tract, it simply absorbed the grape’s essence, causing the flesh to shrivel at once into a dry gray husk.

Strangely, each time the lizard fed, revitalizing energy washed through Kosha’s veins. He gave it three more grapes before tossing two into his own mouth and contemplating whether he should attempt an orange next.

Without warning, the heavy office doors swung inward.

“Your Highness, here is the…” The knight stopped in the middle of the sentence.

The lizard instantly dove beneath a stack of ledgers.

Kosha spun in his chair, his eyes widening. “Sir Eydric!”

He sprang to his feet. Eydric appeared equally startled and took one slow step backward before bowing his head.

“…Mage.”

Kosha hurriedly bowed in return. “It is s-so good to see you, Sir Eydric! Have you been well?”

He had not seen the knight since the disastrous incident in the East Wing library. Lucien aggressively changed the subject whenever anyone mentioned it, while Gosrick fled the room at the mere suggestion of discussing what had happened. As a result, Kosha had been consumed by guilt, terrified that Eydric had suffered severe punishment for saving his life.

Clad in battered leather armor and a mud-spattered dark cloak devoid of royal insignia, Eydric resembled a wandering mercenary rather than an elite member of the royal guard. He hesitated before answering in his usual measured cadence.

“I have only just returned from an extended assignment given to me by His Highness.”

“But where is His Highness?” Kosha asked, peering into the empty corridor behind him.

“He departed early this morning and has not yet returned.”

“Maybe he will be back before dinner.” Kosha gestured toward his chair. “Would you like to wait? Please, take my seat.”

Within the palace’s rigid hierarchy, even seating arrangements were governed by unforgiving protocol. Afraid the knight might be punished for standing idle, Kosha offered him his own chair.

Eydric, well acquainted with the brutal realities of court politics, did not argue. He drew a secondary chair closer to the desk and lowered himself heavily into it.

A suffocating silence settled between them.

Kosha was not naturally shy, but he possessed no conversational ability whatsoever, and the gulf between a rural mage and a royal assassin was vast.

“How is your health?” Eydric finally asked. “Have you recovered?”

“Yes! I am completely well now.”

The conversation promptly died again.

Eydric looked utterly exhausted. A fresh, jagged scratch traced his jaw, blood still welling from the broken skin. Kosha felt an immediate and irrepressible urge to intervene.

He saved my life. I have not even thanked him properly.

“Sir,” Kosha murmured.

When Eydric looked up, Kosha reached toward him. To a human incapable of seeing the flow of mana, the sudden motion might have appeared threatening, but Kosha acted entirely on instinct. Eydric could have broken the mage’s wrist in a heartbeat. Instead, he remained perfectly still as Kosha’s cool fingertips brushed his jaw.

Pale green light washed across the wound. The jagged scratch sealed beneath Kosha’s touch, leaving smooth, unblemished skin behind.

“A small token of my gratitude,” Kosha mumbled, abruptly aware of how pitifully inadequate a minor healing spell seemed in exchange for his life.

His restless gaze drifted to Eydric’s hands, which rested upon the desk. A dark, necrotic residue of death clung to the knight’s calloused knuckles. Beneath the desk, the lizard flicked its tongue, eagerly tasting the ambient violence radiating from the man.

Eydric had clearly slaughtered someone very recently.

The mage’s instincts flared again, wild and beyond restraint. Kosha snatched another grape from the basket and thrust it directly toward Eydric’s mouth.

Eydric recoiled, his hand shooting up to close around Kosha’s wrist like an iron shackle. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Protective magic,” Kosha lied smoothly, utterly unconcerned by the mortal’s crushing grip.

Like one of the sorcerers from ancient myth who bewitched men with poisoned fruit, Kosha leaned closer, his green eyes glowing like polished jade. “Eat it. It is harmless.”

The mage’s gaze was so intense and otherworldly that it completely stripped the knight of his defenses. Gradually, the tension left Eydric’s arm, and his lips parted almost without him realizing it. The grape rolled onto his tongue, and he bit down, releasing a burst of sweetness against his teeth.

Suddenly, a massive gloved hand lunged from the shadows and clamped brutally over Kosha’s eyes.

The room froze.

A sound like shattering glass exploded through Kosha’s skull as the spell was violently severed. He was wrenched backward, his head striking a chest as unyielding as granite. Dark musk and crushed leather overwhelmed his senses in a suffocating wave.

Panic surged through him, and Kosha clawed at the hand covering his eyes.

“You are losing your focus, Eydric.”

The low, guttural snarl reverberated through Kosha’s bones.

Lucien.

“Your Highness.” Eydric’s voice tightened with sudden dread. “It is… fortunate that you arrived so promptly. This is a missive from the tail of Seodin. It appears our position has been compromised.”

“We shall discuss that later,” Lucien snapped.

A sharp, venomous click of his tongue cut through the silence.

“You…”

The hand disappeared.

Kosha blinked against the sudden glare, feeling long fingers press against his forehead and gently tilt his head back. From this upside-down view, he gazed up at Lucien’s face. The prince appeared as a terrifying, godlike figure, adorned in midnight velvet and shimmering sapphires. Kosha’s mouth dropped open in helpless awe.

“Stop blinking so much.” Lucien poked his cheek.

Despite the fury in his voice, the touch was surprisingly gentle, almost teasing.

Kosha hurried to close his mouth, but Lucien’s eyes had already darkened dangerously. He tipped his chin toward the knight. “You. Go see Renata first. We shall finish the rest of our conversation later.”

Eydric needed no further instruction. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a vacuum of oppressive silence.

Kosha attempted to pull away, but Lucien’s arm tightened around his waist, holding him firmly against his chest. Before Kosha could comprehend the confinement, Lucien leaned down and seized his lips. It was an awkward and brutal encounter. Kosha’s nose smashed into the prince’s sharply defined jaw, leaving him unable to breathe. Every coherent thought disappeared from his mind.

How is he so natural at this?

Lucien merely caught Kosha’s plush lower lip between his teeth, delivering a casual, predatory bite before pulling away. His expression remained perfectly blank.

“Have you already forgotten why you are here?”

“W-what?”

“You feed people strange things without the slightest fear. What is this? Are you planning to ‘treat’ them if the side effects appear again?”

Jealousy radiated from him so strongly that it was almost tangible.

“It was not strange magic!” Kosha protested, waving his hands wildly. “It was only a protection spell! Just… something to keep him from catching a cold, or something!”

“A protection spell,” Lucien repeated, his voice sinking into a dangerous, silken purr. “And the one you fed me, I suppose that was ‘only’ a love potion?”

“Ah, no!”

Well, perhaps, but that was different!

Kosha’s thoughts raced. Human vocabulary was hopelessly inadequate for explaining complex magical theory. In a moment of blind panic, he chose the worst defense imaginable.

“It is the same magic I cast on my geese!”

A lethal silence stretched between them.

Lucien looked as though he might genuinely murder someone.

Desperate to defuse the brewing disaster, Kosha seized an orange from the basket. A flick of his wrist sent the fruit floating, and a razor-thin line of mana sliced through the rind. The magic divided the orange into six perfectly equal segments that dropped neatly into his cupped palms.

“Would you like some? They’re quite sweet.” Kosha held out the fruit, hoping this timid display of talent and a taste of sugar might soften the royal’s temper.

Naturally, Lucien was hardly simple enough to fall for such a clumsy little ploy. He stared at the six orange wedges hovering above Kosha’s palms, parting his lips as though a thought had just occurred to him.

“That reminds me. There was something I wanted to ask.”

He certainly had not returned to his office in his formal attire merely to dazzle a mage with his appearance. Truly.

“The Tower Master of Gaecrux visited today,” Lucien added lightly, watching Kosha’s expression. “We meet from time to time.”

The mage merely blinked, waiting in silence.

He did not appear to conceal any prior acquaintance with the Tower Master, yet recalling their earlier conversation, Lucien found the notion of them being complete strangers deeply suspicious.