"Are you alright?" Sylvan asked, noting how Magnus still remained in his bed even though the sun had risen hours ago.

Magnus didn't respond, staring blankly at the wall ahead of him. A few days had passed since the banquet, and he hadn't left his room since. He barely slept, barely ate, barely done much more than sit around in silence. He had tried to work on one of his unfinished paintings to distract himself, but he struggled to create anything he deemed worth keeping.

"Still worried about that night?" Sylvan asked, taking a seat in front of him. "Hey, you did what you could for everyone. They're going to be okay."

Magnus slowly raised his eyes to look at him. "Is Mina alright? No one's touched her?"

"She's fine. Looks rather beat up, but that's expected."

"And Kydia?"

"She and Lord Finley left yesterday. She was looking for you, but I told her that you didn't want to be bothered."

Magnus sighed, shifting onto his back. "Probably for the best. And...my father? Has he asked for me?"

Sylvan shifted in his seat. "Not yet." He sighed. "Look, you can't go do something good and then hide in your room out of fear of your father every time."

Sylvan was right, of course, but nothing Magnus did could suppress the ice cold terror that filled his veins whenever he had to face his father, especially if he did something that displeased him. More than anything, Magnus wanted to be strong, but he never could quite keep his composure, never could stand up straight or keep his voice steady in the presence of the king.

Magnus gritted his teeth. "You think I don't know that? And I thought you disapproved of me sticking my neck out for other people."

"It depends on the situation. When someone is obviously planning to stick a knife in your back like Cleo, I'm less sympathetic. In this case, it's good that you're fighting for these people who are powerless to defend themselves, but you can't stop there if you're ever going to be a leader people can look to."

"Believe me, I want to," Magnus shot back. "But I can't do more. Not here, not now, not until my father is gone."

"Do you think all your problems will be solved once the king dies? You don't think there will be others who will try to control you once you take power? Hurt you in the same way or worse?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Will you still cower then?"
"No, no, of course not, but I'll have people on my side to back me up. I won't be as alone as I am now."

"How do you know that? Who's to say they'll listen to you or show you any respect? How do you know they won't cower in fear as well? You can't just expect loyalty, Magnus. You have to earn it."

Sylvan's words hit him like a bucket of cold water. It was true. There still remained people who opposed the king, but no one was powerful or brave enough to outwardly oppose him. Sure, the sparse groups of rebels tried, but they were just that: scattered, disorganized bands of goons with no real leader to unite them. The people needed a leader that they could rally behind, someone to reignite that dying spark of courage and allow the flame spread. But that couldn't be him. How could he if he was trapped within these walls? How could he if he himself lacked the courage to face the tyrant?

"Forgive me," Sylvan murmured, rising from his seat. "I spoke out of turn." Magnus didn't respond, so Sylvan headed for the door. "I'll get a maid to come bring you food. Try to eat a little, please."

Magnus didn't move until he heard the door shut. Covering his face with his hands, he let out a loud groan of frustration. Weak, that's what he was. Nothing but a weak, helpless boy.

***

Sylvan trudged through the halls after sending Ivy to attend to the prince, figuring he should give Magnus some space after their earlier exchange. Sylvan knew Magnus was kind hearted and compassionate, but that could only get him so far. He had no clue of what life was like outside his little bubble, and a narrow perspective like that would not make for a strong leader. Most of the other guards viewed the prince as a spineless coward, but Sylvan still held on to the faintest hope that Magnus could become something greater. That hope, that desperate unsaid prayer, was the only real thing keeping him going.

Sylvan slowed his pace when he noticed a familiar auburn-haired guard ahead of him, peaking into a room.

"Rook," he called, causing the other guard to startle. Whipping around, Rook's blue eyes widened when he saw Sylvan approaching.

"Ah, Sylvan," Rook greeted.

"What are you doing here?" Sylvan asked. Peering into the room, he found Lord Victon sound asleep on the bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. Raising his eyebrows, Sylvan glanced back at Rook. "Explain."

"I just...I..." Rook stammered, feeling put on the spot. "Nothing. Just checking up on him."

"I know you're lying, so I'm going to ask again nicely. What are you doing? Or rather, what are you planning to do?"

Rook held his gaze for a few moments, contemplating what to do. Everyone knew Sylvan was the prince's loyal protector. Hell, he was the sole reason that boy was even still alive. But he kept quiet on his opinions about the king and other nobles, which left Rook and some others wondering if he would protect them too if it came down to it.

Sighing, Rook rubbed the back of his neck. "What are we doing here, Sylvan? Protecting him of all people?"

Sylvan's body tensed. "We don't have much of a choice."

"Come on, you know that's not true."

Sylvan's eyes narrowed, and he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "You think you could just get away with killing him? Have you lost your mind?"

"It could be easy. Just slip something into his drink and there. Everyone would assume that he just succumbed to his injuries."

Sylvan shook his head incredulously. "Look, I hate what he did just as much as you, but if he dies, they'll kill that poor girl he tried to touch. They haven't hurt her yet, but they certainly will if you go and do that."

"Then I'll slay him in his sleep. Right here, right now."

"You'd never get away with it."

"What, are you going to report me?"

Sylvan shifted in his spot. "Don't put me in this position."

Rook held his hands up. "Too late. You know what I'm planning to do, and you can't stop me."

"Rook, please, just...just think this through for a moment. You don't have to do this."

"What other choice do I have? To let him go free and keep doing exactly what he's been doing?"

"Well, no, but..." Sylvan sighed. "This is not the way to go about this. You'd be throwing your life away."

"It wouldn't be throwing it away if it means that prick won't be around anymore." Rook frowned, searching Sylvan's gaze. "Why are you fighting me if you agree?"

"I can't take the risk."

"Why? Because no one will be around to protect your dear prince?"

Sylvan's jaw tightened. "Exactly that."

Rook rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Why does he matter to you so much anyway?"

"He's not like the rest of them, and you know this."

"But why prioritize him over everyone else? Why let more people suffer at his expense?"

"Because he's the future of our kingdom. He's our last hope."

Rook shook his head again. "If he's the future of this kingdom, then I don't want to be around to see it."

Before Sylvan could protest any further, Rook turned and burst into the room, sword drawn. Lord Victon startled awake from the commotion, but he couldn't even let out a squeak of surprise before Rook speared him through the heart, twisting the blade deeper until the light faded from the vile man's eyes. The whole thing happened in what felt like less than a minute, and Sylvan remained speechless and frozen at the door, his eyes fixed on Rook as he pulled his sword out, the end now coated in blood. Rook turned back to face Sylvan again, a grim but determined expression on his face.

"At least give me a head start," he mumbled, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he stalked over.

Sylvan stared at him for a moment, but then backed away from the doorway. "Go," he ordered with a jerk of his head.

Rook nodded, pausing just a second to touch Sylvan's shoulder in gratitude before disappearing down the hall. As his heavy footsteps faded away, Sylvan turned to look back at the bloodied corpse on the bed. Lord Victon's hands lay limply across his gaping chest, never to touch anyone ever again, and his glassy eyes stared emptily up at the painted ceiling, never to look at anyone ever again. A life for a life, that's what this was. A trade off of one wicked man at the expense of a good one. Rook's chances of making it out alive weren't high, but he could at least try. It was a pity; he was one of the few other guards Sylvan trusted and now he too was gone. With each passing day, it felt that any goodness was slowly being purged from the palace, leaving nothing by darkness and rot behind.

Exhaling slowly, Sylvan peeled his eyes away from the scene and started slowly down the hall in the opposite direction of Rook. He wouldn't say anything. Someone else could find what happened and they could put the pieces together on their own. He'd be with the prince, attending to him as usual, now and until the day he died, and no one would know any better.

***

"Not now, Ivy," Magnus said gently. "Thank you for the soup."

He couldn't help but shift uncomfortably when she knelt down next to him at the edge of the bed. "Anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?"

He shook his head. "No, I'll be alright..." his voice trailed off when he noticed her eyes fixed on his exposed hands and arms and the various scars that littered his pale skin. She moved to touch his hand, but he pulled away, hurriedly moving to slide down his sleeves as far as they would go and tucking his hands into the crooks of his arms. "Just...don't."

Her pretty hazel eyes widened, and she immediately bowed her head and averted her gaze. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I just worry for you sometimes."

He offered her a slight smile. "I appreciate it, but there's no need. I've had these for years, and there's just no getting rid of them I suppose." She looked as if she wanted to ask more, but he changed the subject before she could attempt. "If you please, run me a bath quickly and then you can go. I'm sure you have many other things to attend to."

"As you wish," she responded, rising to her feet and disappearing into the adjacent washroom.

Letting out a puff of air, Magnus dragged himself out of bed and forced his feet to move as he padded over to his wardrobe to look for something to wear after he took his bath. As his fingers paged through the fabrics of satin and silk, he heard the sounds of a muffled commotion on the other side of the door. Peeking out into the sitting room, he found Sylvan standing at the outer door, talking with Orenn as other knights and guards raced by.

"What's going on?" Magnus asked, feeling his heart beat faster.

"There's a murderer on the loose. Stay inside and lock your doors," Orenn ordered. "Sylvan—"

"I know," the guard interrupted, his voice strong and cold. Orenn gave him one last nod before Sylvan shut the door and the lock clicked closed.

"A murderer? In the palace?" Magnus questioned. "Who was killed?"

"Lord Victon," Sylvan replied. His face was blank aside from that darkened gaze he got whenever there was a possible sign of danger.

Magnus's mouth fell open, but no words aside from incomprehensible stuttering came out. "What? When?" he finally managed to sputter.

"Quite recently. Crio apparently found him stabbed to death when he came to check up on him."

Amid Magnus's whirlwind of thoughts, one seized him with worry. "Mina..." he breathed.

Sylvan shook his head. "It was a sword wound. Most likely from a guard."

Magnus nodded slowly, still seemingly unconvinced. "Who would do such a thing? Someone with a personal vendetta?"

"Or someone especially bold," Sylvan commented, still pretending not to know. He was lucky that Magnus trusted him so much, because the prince did not seem to suspect anything.

Magnus frowned, wringing his hands as he started to pace. A lord murdered in broad daylight in his own castle? As evil as Victon's acts were, he never expected retaliation as brutal as this. Who could have done such a thing and would they be found? Who would be next if this person still lurked in the halls?

"Your Highness?" a small voice peeped from his room.

Turning, he saw Ivy, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Your...your bath is ready."

Out of the corner of his eye, Magnus saw Sylvan rise to his feet, his guard's uneasiness instinctively putting him on edge as well. Ivy looked back and forth between the two of them, her hand clenching at the wooden door. "What is it?"

"Lord Victon was murdered," Magnus explained softly. "And his killer is still out there."

Ivy's face grew visibly pale.

"You should go," Sylvan stated, stepping forward. "Go back to the maids' quarters and wait there with the others."

"Actually, no," Magnus asserted. "We can let her just wander out there alone."

"She'll be fine—"

"No, she stays here until this issue passes. She was with me for the past hour or so, so she couldn't have done it if that's what you're worried about."

Sylvan frowned. He wanted to remind him that anyone could be a threat at any time, but he opted not to say it out loud. Silently, he backed off and let Magnus usher the girl back into the room.

"Hey, it's alright," Magnus reassured, seeing how the girl trembled. "You're safe here."

She nodded, but he could tell from her gaze that she was still unsure. Wanting to do whatever he could to alleviate her worry, he opened his arms to her and pulled her into a hug. Truthfully, he was a little cautious of Ivy, given how much she reminded him of Cleo with the way she acted around him, but he couldn't just ignore her distress. That was his biggest weakness, and he knew it. He sorely wanted to believe that there were still good people out there who cared for more than just their personal goals. He'd been proven wrong on many occasions, but he still held onto hope. Besides, he had no real evidence that Ivy was hiding anything nefarious under her usual flirtatious behavior. And right here and now, it just seemed like she needed someone to provide her some sort of comfort, and he was doing just that. Ivy latched onto him tightly, and he felt her tears wet the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind. If she was lying or hiding something, she was damn good at it.

Magnus left Ivy to wander his room until the issue outside had passed. After taking his time in the bath, he dressed up in one of his simple black suits with minor gold embroidery, hiding his scarred hands under his white gloves as always. Ivy continued to be especially touchy with him, but he tried not to think about it too much. After a few hours, Sylvan entered the room. Both rose to their feet, hoping for good news, but Magnus's face fell when he saw the guard's grim expression.

"What is it? Have they found the person who did it?"

"No, but..." Sylvan hesitated. "Your father wishes to see you now."