Carefully tucking the edges of a thick, feathered comforter beneath the mattress he'd commandeered for the last three evenings, Noah Whitecross found himself counting each second apart as he waited to leave the island of Chiori Faire.

Even limiting his interactions had become challenging as Sorein warmed to his company again.

He expected the guilt to creep in any day now, but nothing managed to keep him awake at night more than the facade.

Noah managed to muster the energy to play young and naive for the sake of his friends, often shoving away minor annoyance for a good laugh. Royals felt comfortable speaking freely with him if he maintained a lopsided grin and recycled the information he was given as if he'd never heard it before.

Iliya seemed to be the only one who'd noticed.

His heart stopped in the meeting earlier when he mentioned her runes.

That had kept him up last night.

But Noah entering Nynoli, not to mention answering a litany of idiotic questions spewed from his cousin's lips and checking Carya's Temple meant a small reprieve before he traveled to Toskapel. Heilos knows he'd leave now if it didn't risk more suspicion than he already felt glued to him.

Sorein wouldn't look away for long enough for a trip down the eastern corridor, let alone some much needed tea.

Exhausting.

His friend was exhausting.

A worrisome, overbearing hen who couldn't find a path out of his own way long enough to read between the lines.

Noah paused to assess the room. He'd strapped his longsword to his belt and hidden a few blades for good measure. The journal Iliya had left with him as a backup plan was under this mattress.

Not that revealing her death sentence to Rhydian was any more comforting than her absence.

He'd shoved the book so far toward the center, lifting wouldn't uncover a thing.

Secrecy wasn't something he missed.

Of his memories from the last civil war, humanity manipulated the truth significantly more than the immortals. Unburdened by agelessness, they'd bear grudges for long lengths of time, as if it were a threat.

Wasting each other's time, that's what the humans did.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

This definitely smelled an awful lot like espionage.

No more slip-ups.

He'd make sure his tongue wouldn't move without him again.

Noah knew he could be careless around Sorein, even Jeremy, but not when it came to those runes. Not when it came to Ezre and his masterful manipulation in hiding every trace of Alette Chakrine from Chiori Faire.

Attlis wouldn't have much to say to him anyway.

He'd spend the night in the old, stone castle in desperate need of repair—fight the urge to comment on a remodel—and quickly board the next ship to Toskapel to check on Iliya.

RIM asked him for relationships.

Solid, concrete relationships between Darkwell and the Wildlands, as they'd never maintained proper representatives from their communities.

Simple. Easy.

He could auto-pilot his way through such a manageable request and still focus on protecting Iliya while Damien trained her.

Noah knew their only hope would be grabbing the King of Zavere's attention, so grab he did. As well as safe passage and a boat.

Now he only needed Iliya to understand Alette's curse before Ezre found her.

He threw a pack of clothes on his back and stalked out of the room, making sure every single item he'd touched was in place.

There were forty stairs between him and the exit.

A landing broke them apart, leading to the foyer where Jeremy leaned against a polished side table.

He'd never thought about how right Iliya had been, asking if he'd acquired any other gifts from his predicament with Taranis.

A vaulted memory, his fast travel, and a strange temporal influence of temperature he couldn't control.

Noah had never considered to check if any other abilities presented besides an eternal lifespan.

He'd simply let hate win him over until he left Nynoli.

Now he struggled to pull himself out of it.

"You're early," Jeremy stated, staring at him. "Bored?"

If only Azuris' Captain knew how preoccupied he was.

"Yeah," Noah answered, giving him a lazy smile. "Might as well get on the road, right? What's with the wait, anyway?"

Jeremy shrugged.

He seemed to drop it, until his eyes narrowed.

"I need to ask you something."

Noah's brow raised. He was used to the Captain's questions coming in the form of commands, Jeremy was built for the role Andrin offered him. But this felt different. Personal.

"Were you always planning to join RIM?"

He groaned internally.

Enough of this, he thought, sighing.

"No," Noah admitted, holding his friend's gaze. Despite their sharp banter, he respected the realms out of Jeremy. "I saw an opportunity and I took it."

The Captain shot a glance behind him, before nodding. "An opportunity that protected both Sorein and Iliya, am I right?"

Noah frowned. "Are you accusing me of knowing where she is? I already told Sorein—"

"No, I'm not," Jeremy said, crossing his arms. He pushed off the table. "But I need to know if you're putting him through this for good reason."

Noah counted to three, took a deep breath and glanced around the foyer. Not even a Priestess shared breath with them.

He watched the concern softening Jeremy's dark eyes. Nothing ever broke the surface like that.

"I am," Noah agreed quietly. "You know that, though."

"I just needed to be sure."

"Are you going to tell—"

"Whitecross. Tattone. Good," Ezre interrupted from the staircase. "Are you ready for Torchkye?"

Noah grumbled under his breath. Certainly he'd be able to finish a sentence sooner or later.

The king was trotting down the stairs before they responded, his attention drawn toward Rhydian emerging from the Grand Archive. Chiori's Captain hadn't even stopped to grace them with a cursory glance, stalking through the halls with a clouded expression.

You didn't drug him too, did you? Noah clamped his mouth shut, ensuring he didn't piss off his escape plan.

Rhydian wouldn't be so foolish, anyway.

Not when the Captain was the one who'd found out.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Noah replied. "Not sure why Attlis prefers I take a ship though..."

"Isn't Wyving against Nynoli culture?" a warmer voice asked from the front door. Sorein pushed into the Foyer from outside. "I'd imagine it's because they don't want more mana in the city than the Aphyre already allowed."

Noah rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

The prince was right, of course, but he'd hated boats from a very early age.

Whoever decided to travel by rocking constantly over the most lethal, unruly substance known to soulkind and egging on waves of nausea was no friend of his.

Even if it meant breaking free from this roll a heartbeat faster.

"Let's go then," Ezre said. "I'll see you off."

Noah sighed with relief as they funneled out of the estate, but Jeremy caught his arm. He waited until no one could hear.

"You should know, he's spent every night in Aida's Temple. Praying. Make sure it's worth it."

There it was.

The tiniest thread of guilt weaving through his chest.

Noah nodded again, certain.

If this wasn't worth it, nothing was.

~ 🔮 ~

"Would you look at that!" Attlis Gothalis announced from the courtyard, waving. "You know, when they told me Noah Whitecross was coming back to Wheldon, I damn near bet my best horse you'd find a way out of it. Only to find out you were here of your own accord? On RIM business, no less! Wow, Noah, you could've sent an owl or something, you know I would've—"

Noah dismounted his horse after two hours, ignoring the overgrown cypress trees losing their shape and wilting with autumn's turn. The sprawling lawns stretched for acres in every direction, still well maintained and cropped short.

Quaint.

Human.

His cousin had continued to drone on for the last three minutes but with the nausea still threatening him, Noah could barely concentrate.

Horseback hadn't helped.

"Yes, yes, Attlis, it's good to see you," he interrupted him, stepping into a stiff hug. "Please tell me there's a spare room where I can wait out this awful sickness."

The king's eyes flashed with recognition.

"Right! So sorry cousin, I forgot about your ailments with the sea, please allow me to show you—"

Noah would never get used to such nonsense again.

The formalities, the polite crap spewing from Attlis' lips while he pretended it hadn't been a decade since they'd been alone together.

While Noah hadn't changed an ounce, Attlis was now a man. A crowned man. He'd filled out up top, honed muscles he'd never seen, and even grown facial hair.

"Thank you," Noah intoned, attempting to recall his foreign manners. The Fae seldom bothered with them. Respect was unspoken, inherent. Not announced with banners and horses. "I'm sorry for not reaching out sooner."

"No need, no need," Attlis dismissed, waving his hand again. "I know how challenging things have been between you and Brandon. Thankfully he's taken to Luverie for the next moon."

He fought to mask his gratitude. Both for not having to ask his fathers whereabouts or witness the old man at all.

That was a fight for later.

"Let's get you settled, then."

Noah knew the castle by heart. As they passed old oil paintings which had chipped and cracked in his time, he noted the newer additions like a piano forte in the sitting room to their left and a nursery across the hall.

It had once been a chapel within the castle itself.

Nothing made him feel older than coming home.

Noah sighed with relief when Attlis pointed to an all-too-familiar suite.

"They assigned you to sway Damian Ravellier's opinion on treaties, yes? Dangerous that," Attlis mused, speaking with the energy and attitude of an excited younger brother. "I've heard he only entertains RIM to appease the Wildlands and collect resources. Be careful who you find in those estates. You know, Brandon once told me they're a breed all of their own."

He found himself smiling at Attlis, nodding every so often. Too exhausted to care or stop him.

"How do you mean?" Noah asked, encouraging him.

"Well, he mentioned their bloodlines have meshed into an entirely new species. Not Therian, Human, or Fae. Have you met anyone like that? I think it's lunacy."

"I've never heard of such a species. You certainly don't think it's a Dynali continent, do you?"

"Oh no, no, it's just something Brandon told me before I took the crown. Fascinating though."

"Definitely," Noah agreed, chuckling.

He'd been in the room when Attlis was born, even teaching him how to properly wield a sword and steady his breath.

Still, anxiety filled his chest within these walls. Inside this castle. He already wanted out.

Even with Attlis, a grown man who viewed him as an older brother with none of the stigma the rest of his family bore.

"I'll find you for dinner," he said, patting Attlis' shoulder. "Thank you again for entertaining me on such short notice.

"Of course, we will catch up after some rest. You go, I've got plenty of time to talk your ear off."

At least he knows, Noah swallowed those words too.

The plan could continue after some much needed rest.