New Ram City, Aries 

― death?

Olive woke up gagging on nothing, gripping his left hand as if it were on the trigger of a gun, and blinking away nonexistent tears from his eyes. He shot up only to double over and empty his stomach over the side of the bed. Or at least he tried to. Nothing came out.

Had he been poisoned…?

No—

The fire!

No.

What?

He winced and grabbed his shoulder. He winced even harder at the dull pain that followed the touch. Right. The arrow. He’d been shot by an arrow with vitae flames. He glanced down and found the area wrapped in bandages. It looked as if they’d gotten him to a medical Conductor.

He blinked blearily around the room.

Scarlet drapes hung from the window that opened to his left. The light falling in from the sun graced the large, oaken closet on the opposite side of the room but did not manage to reach the desk at the left corner. The item that received the full brunt of the sun was the birdcage that stood tall at the room’s center, right in front of his bed. Inside it fluttered a blackbird which turned its neck to him and tweeted.

He glared at it in turn. “What do you think you’re looking at?”

A chiming laugh rang out to his right, startling him. There she was, propped up on her elbows near his head. Her dark hair formed a halo across his blanket.

He sighed. “That’s some way to greet your brother who nearly got impaled by an arrow, Lavi.”

“You didn’t nearly get impaled by an arrow,” Lavi returned. “You were impaled by one.”

“That makes your reaction much, much worse.”

They stared at each other for a long minute before an expression of relief broke across her face. The expression was followed by an eruption of tears, cascading down her flushed cheeks like a waterfall.

“I’m glad you’re okay!” she cried as she threw her arms around him. “Don’t you get shot again, do you hear me? You idiot!”

Olive stiffened in her hold before he returned the hug and patted her head. “It’s not like I chose to get shot, Lavi. Jeez, were you always such a crybaby?”

Lavi pulled back with a glare. Before she could snap at him, the oak doors next to his closet swung open. At the threshold stood a man and woman wrapped in royal red garments interlaced with twisting gold thread.

“Uncle! Auntie!” Lavi piped as she pulled away from him.

“Olive!” the woman cried. In an instant, she closed the distance between them. She threw her arms around Olive’s neck before pulling back to examine his face. She turned his face over with her calloused fingers before hesitantly reaching for his bandaged shoulder. “The medical Conductor said you’d make a fast recovery, but… how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

He studied his aunt as she studied him. Her dark hair was entwined with braids woven in with crystalline beads. The years had creased wrinkles at the corner of her drooping green eyes—unnervingly greener than his own—and just beneath those eyes were deep and dark circles. The sight of them made his stomach churn.

His uncle approached him next and looked him over with scrutiny. His narrow, gray eyes were also accented by dark circles, while his dark hair was peppered with gray and silver. His long face was gaunt and hollowed out by stress and time.

“We’ll double the security around the mansion and quadruple security around your quarters,” he finally said. “The Investigation Bureau is mobilized as we speak. I just requested Ophiuchus’s assistance as well. Until we find out the culprit, I want you to stay within the estate. I told your professors at the university that you’ll be taking a leave of absence until you recover.”

Olive opened his mouth to protest but realized nothing would come of it and instead offered a nod. His uncle studied him for a long moment before resting his hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Terra, can I speak to Olive alone for a moment?” his uncle pressed in a quiet voice.

Terra’s brow furrowed, and her eyes narrowed. Olive recalled stories regaling her as ‘The Blaze of the North.’ Terra Nova. There were legends about her time on the battlefield during the war. She had been younger then. Lively—at least until the Tragedy—scorching everything with a flick of her conductor. Briefly, Olive wondered if she’d do the same to him. But then she released him from her hold, placing one last hand at his cheek before pulling back and heading out the door.

That left the three of them. 

Great. 

Olive side-glanced at his sister, who shrugged at him while biting her lower lip.

“The guards told me it looked like you saw the arrow coming.” His uncle sat down at his bedside. “The arrow—it’s the only lead we have.”

It took all of Olive’s willpower not to bury his head into his blankets.

“Olivier, I would’ve rather had you burn that arrow to a crisp and be unharmed and with nothing to investigate than to have you hurt.”

His uncle didn’t understand at all.

Olive stared into the birdcage in front of him. The blackbird hopped around and fluttered its wings, the sheen of its feathers catching the sunlight in a way that made it look ablaze. Like a phoenix, came the thought. If only.

“And your behavior at the university is…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Olive could see his uncle reach for him. Olive turned to face him fully and watched as the man retracted his hand. If Olive would’ve cared enough, he would’ve laughed. Instead, he held his uncle’s gaze and watched as the man gave a nod and departed from the room—

“Rest well.”

And that left the two of them.

“They’re worried about you, Ollie,” Lavi said from beside him as she pulled closer. “You have to talk to them.”

“I don’t have to. It’s not like talking will do anything.” Olive grunted, swung his legs over his bed, and stared at the dirt floor that was dusted with gravel and slick with rain.

Wait—dirt floor? Rain?

He blinked.

The normal wooden floorboards of his room stared back at him.

He shook his head.

Raising a brow at his sister, he swept past the cage and made his way to the door. He cracked it open and peered around the hall. He only just managed to throw a glance to the right when the door was yanked open and he found himself face-to-face with a bulging set of bare arms and a pair of piercing blue eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going, Prince?”

It was Alexander Charming, dressed in the red uniform of a royal guard—minus, the sleeves. How he managed to pass royal guard inspection, Olive didn’t know. Probably because of how meticulously he polished his golden buttons or how pristinely shined he kept the medals that gleamed at his chest.

That aside, Charming was someone who lived up to his name. Spiked blonde-hair, dimpled cheeks, broad shoulders, etcetera. A cylindrical, black conductor hung with grandiosity at his waist for all to see. A melee-class conductor, probably. Charming always did enjoy facing things head-on. Usually, hot-blooded people like him irritated Olive, but Olive thought Alexander was a decent human being. More decent than a lot of the people around the mansion. Still, he loathed Alexander’s name. No, he felt pity for Alexander’s name. ‘Charming’? Really? It was a lot to live up to—that name.

“Look, if they really wanted to kill me, they would’ve used a better weapon than a bow conductor.” Olive sighed.

“If they didn’t want to kill you, they wouldn’t have tried to shoot you in the first place,” Alexander returned. There was guilt lining the corners of his false smile.

Olive didn’t quite understand it. It wasn’t Alexander’s fault. Sure, he’d been the one stationed to guard Olive at the time, but Olive had given him the slip. Really, Olive thought, people who cared too much just had to be masochists. There was no other explanation for them to put all their eggs into one basket, even with the knowledge that the basket might be smashed to a yolky pulp in one go.

Olive frowned at the odd line of thought. Where had that come from?

Shaking it off, Olive opened his mouth to retort but stopped short when he noticed there was an unannounced man standing just behind Alexander. The man had on a thick coat which obscured much of his tanned skin. Even so, Olive could tell that the man was rather lean. His hair was dark and jagged, his eyes a bright hazel. At his waist hung what appeared to be two pairs of curved conductors. What kind they were and what conducting type the man wielded—Olive did not know. The man looked young though. Maybe a year or two older than Olive himself.

“Oh, right,” Alexander said, inclining his head. “This is Trystan Carter. He was just indoctrinated into the royal army from the academy.”

Trystan stepped forward. Stiff, proper. He gave a deep bow. Stiff and proper. Olive hated these types, too. Behind the professionalism, there was deep-rooted two-facedness and desperation. Desperation to rise in the ranks, desperation to please.

Olive glanced at Alexander.

“He passed his State Conductor Exam with flying colors,” Alexander explained. “Top ten from the pool of those completing it this month. He interviewed well too, despite his strong opinions on the Ariesian government… so now he’ll be serving as royal guar—”

“Oh.” Olive hummed. “Couldn’t make it into the top five, huh?”

Trystan bristled. His head snapped up, his lips forming the beginning of what would probably be a profane shout. But then his eyes widened, and he cleared his throat before giving a curt nod. “Yes, unfortunately not, sir.”

Olive was disappointed at the response. Alexander looked exasperated.

“Don’t mind him, Trystan,” Alexander said. “Prince Chance enjoys testing newcomers. His bark is worse than his bite.” A laugh. “Actually, I don’t think he can even bite!”

Olive resisted rolling his eyes and stared down the opposite end of the hall.

“Anyways,” Alexander continued. “You should be resting, Your Highness—”

Olive didn’t listen to the rest because something else caught his attention. Distantly, he heard an odd sound he couldn’t quite place. A click-clacking that rang in his ears. Paired with it was a low rumbling that was finished off with a low, bellowing groan.

What?

Olive frowned, trained his ears. 

Was that…. a train horn?

 “I’m worried about you, Jericho—”  

Huh?

Olive startled and turned. Both Alexander and Trystan stared back at him. The two royal guards exchanged looks.

“Is everything all right, sir?” Trystan asked. “You’re being quiet.”

Olive felt himself frown. “What do you mean? That sound—”

Alexander stared at him. “What sound?”

Olive prepared to retort but thought better of it. It didn’t really matter, did it?

“Never mind. I’ll be in bed then,” he said, slipping back into his room.

He closed the door behind him before either man could respond and headed to his closet. He threw it open and changed out of his sleepwear into casual clothing. A loose shirt, a loose pair of shorts. Over this, he threw on a cloak and pulled the hood of it over his head.

“What are you doing, Ollie?” Lavi asked.

“Leaving.”

“But—”

He sighed. “I’ll come back before they notice I’m even gone.” Like always.

Before she could say another word, he was climbing out the window.