Later that afternoon, Cassidy and Aiden worked through his paperwork in a silence that had gotten too loud to ignore.
"So — I know I told you to trust them, back when you were sleep-drunk," Cassidy said finally. "But why do you hate Rune— the third princess, I mean?"
Aiden sighed. "I'm scared, okay? What if my father dies because of her? Ignian historians say Estorans are metal-obsessed, Aethrians are flighty magic-heads with no sense — but Silaxens are the knowledge-hungry, manipulative ones. What if she's the one who put the shadow in him, all those visits to his chambers?"
"And what makes you think that's even possible?" Cassidy shot back. "Do you know a single way to trap a whole shadow inside a body?" Aiden had no answer for that. She pressed on, careful but firm. "I don't expect you to take advice from someone as lowborn as me. But ask yourself — would a manipulative snake save a commoner boy from dying, for nothing? Would she risk her own life running experiments on the shadow herself, instead of sending some commoner to do it for her?" Her deep blue eyes held his. "As far as I've ever seen, royalty sends people like me to do the dangerous work. Princess Rune didn't."
Something in Aiden's expression cracked — shame, quiet and sudden, at how small his thinking had been while a foreign princess bled herself dry trying to save his father.
"Now go to bed," Cassidy added, teasing again. "Wouldn't want you sleep-drunk, spilling kingdom secrets to random commoners."
Aiden glared, unwilling to be sent off like a scolded child with so much work still waiting — but relented anyway. "Fine."
On his way out, he passed the library and found himself drawn in without quite meaning to — he couldn't remember the last time he'd set foot in there since his father had fallen ill. It used to be where he spent most of his hours; easier, always, than dealing with people.
He startled at the dim light glowing from Rune's helmet — she sat curled in the ignian pajamas the maids had given her, entirely unbothered by the late hour. "What are you doing up this late?"
"Night owl, usually. I'd normally be training by now." She didn't look up. "But I still need to find a way to save your father." A pause, half to herself. "Wonder which of the gems irritated the shadow — could build an armor piece around it, force the thing out properly."
"Why are you trying so hard for a foreign kingdom?" Aiden asked, unable to hold the question back.
Rune finally looked up at him. A cloud slid past the moon outside, letting its light spill through the library windows. "Do you wait for a plant to grow before you water it?" That silenced him. "I wasn't joking, when I told you what kind of person I am. I want to explore the world, try new things, meet people — find one good reason not to burn it all down myself. You get to have all of that. Royalty just gets to be a cage." She let that sit a moment. "By the way — Cassidy told me about your gold. Its history." Aiden's head came up sharply. "I'm sorry — however it ended up in Silaxen hands to begin with."
The apology finished what the conversation had already started — the last of his crown prince composure finally gave out.
The following day, Vane eyed Rune's choice of armor with visible concern as she prepared to enter the king's chamber.
"You're sure about this, Knight Vesper?" he asked.
She'd stripped down to her tech-magic gloves and only the barest essential plating — most of her chest armor left behind, her sword traded for a lighter, smaller dagger. "Ran the calculations, Knight Aliester. I'll move faster without the extra layers — easier to maneuver, easier to break free if the shadow gets a grip on me." She shrugged. "Besides. I'm going in to examine it. Not fight it."
"He's got a point though, Grumpy Vesper," Percy added, teasing but with real worry underneath. "It's risky. And I'd like my favorite spell-test subject to stay in one piece."
Rune rolled her eyes. "Just watch closely — tell me if you catch something I miss." She stepped in, tracking the shadow's reaction to the gems laid around the room. Nothing. She nearly took a hit for her trouble. After several days of trial and failure, she finally reached for her gold bracelet instead — and the shadow recoiled, agitated, though still lashing out violently. Her eyes lit with excitement. "Finally. Got it."
Before long, she was standing before the war room, laying it out for the council with barely-contained energy. "Let's get to business. My gold bracelet irritates it — enough to provoke a reaction, not enough yet to draw it out completely. What we need now is to calculate exactly how much gold it'll take to finish the job."
The cheer that had started died instantly into muttering.
"I knew it! Silaxens only ever wanted our gold," one adviser hissed, and the whispers spread from there. Rune didn't so much as flinch — she'd expected this. But Vane drove the point of his obsidian sword into the floor hard enough to rattle the walls like a small tremor, and the room went silent.
"I can't believe you people," Cassidy snapped. The council's fury only sharpened at that, and the same guards who'd spent two weeks looking after her and her siblings had no choice but to seize her arms — she was only a commoner, after all, not a fighter like Vane or Rune, not an unpredictable mage like Percy. Cassidy's shock was written plain across her face; she'd thought she'd built something real with those guards.
"How dare a lowly commoner raise her voice to this council," one adviser spat. "Know your place, peasant. Spending all that time alone with His Majesty in his office — who knows what you've been doing in there."
The guards' jaws tightened, but they had no authority to disobey. Cassidy wanted to scream back, but Rune stopped her with a look.
"You're right," Rune said instead, addressing the whole room. "Miss Auram should know her place. Bitter truth." She lifted her chin. "But you know what's more bitter? That you don't hold yourselves to that same standard." A shrug. "Funny thing — royal councils are apparently the same in every kingdom. Dismiss anyone with sharper insight, just because they're younger. Age was never wisdom. But sure — you're right about one thing. We are after your gold." She turned to one adviser directly. "Though who am I to talk? Twenty-five-year-old foreign, fallen princess — what would I know about how you treat your own crown prince like his word means nothing? About as much as you just treated a commoner of your own."
"Your point being?" one adviser said, dripping arrogance.
"Only that it'll be your loss if something happens to your king," Rune said evenly.
Another adviser smirked, something colder behind it. "It's not as though our people would listen to an intruder like you regardless."
Every eye turned to Rune. Her expression gave nothing away. "You're right," she said. Then her gloves flared to life, holograms unfurling into the air. "So we could just show them how arrogant you've all been instead."
"Is that a threat?"
"'Threat' is a strong word." Her tone turned dry. "Here's the actual choice. Risk your king's life and lose your people's trust completely. Or swallow your pride and let us do what needs doing. Either way, someone in this room risks feeling betrayed. That's just the shape of it." She held the challenge steady, ready for however they wanted to take it.
Before another adviser could speak, Aiden finally cut in. "Did I authorize anyone to lay hands on Miss Cassidy? Release her." The guards let go, visibly relieved to have the excuse. "What does Ignia need to provide, Knight Vesper? How much gold does the blacksmith need to prepare?"
"Your Majesty—" one adviser started.
"If you value your position here, you'll respect my judgment," Aiden said, cutting him off cold, before turning fully to the four of them.
Rune's eyes sparked, letting go of the small stress toy she kept clipped to her belt. "We'll need gold placed around the perimeter, to keep the shadow from spreading once it's drawn out. And enough on the king himself to actually pull it free, and—"
Vane's hand landed firm on her shoulder, cutting through the momentum before it ran away with her. "We'll have you a full list of everything required," he said. Then, with a small, respectful bow toward the throne: "And we're grateful for your trust in this, Your Majesty."
"Just hand it to Cassidy," Aiden said. "She'll pass it along to me."
The room went still. "What?" Cassidy breathed.
As they filed out, Cassidy glanced back before the doors shut — catching one last look at Aiden squaring off against all five advisers, bracing for the argument none of them wanted witnessed. Cassidy, the commoner. Vane, Rune, and Percy, the foreigners — all of them, for one strange moment, standing on the same side of the room.
Later that afternoon, Cassidy made her way to Aiden's office, heart hammering as she stepped inside. "Your Majesty." She caught her breath. "Here's the plan — everything Knight Vesper, Sir Aliester, and Master Cinder will need for the operation."
"Thanks, Cassidy," Aiden said, not looking up. "Put it on the table — I'll review it in a moment." The gratitude in his voice was real.
Without thinking, Cassidy set a small clock for fifteen minutes and moved a water bottle into his line of sight — small reminders to drink, to stretch, to breathe — clearing away whatever clutter might overwhelm him next. It had become a rhythm between them these past weeks, one neither of them noticed anymore until it was already happening.
Finally, she couldn't hold the question in. "Why did you have me bring you the plan, instead of hearing it directly — or having someone else do it?"
"If you didn't want to, you could've said no." He still hadn't looked up from his papers. "Besides — you understand our guests better than I do."
"That's not what I meant!" Her voice rose before she caught it.
That got his attention. He looked up, dark eyes puzzled, a strand of dark orange hair falling loose over his forehead.
"I didn't mean to make you feel like some commoner doing my dirty work," he said, flustered.
Cassidy's expression stayed unreadable for a moment. "It's not that. If Ignia's nobles — or the commoners — find out you're trusting a lowborn girl with the kingdom's fate, they could turn on you. You could lose the throne over this." Tears slipped down before she could stop them.
"You're right," Aiden said quietly. "But you're wrong about one thing." He rose from his chair, and the air in the room shifted. "Let's be honest about the timeline. These past weeks, you've given me more loyalty, more solid ground, more genuine help with Ignia's affairs — more insight into what my people actually need — than any of those old advisers ever have." He crossed to pick up Rune's list. "More respect, too, frankly." A pause. "Besides — I can hardly let the one person who's seen me without the crown prince mask just wander the kingdom unsupervised, can I?" A teasing edge crept into his voice.
"What are you two doing up this late?" Rune's voice came from the window, startling them both.
"What are you doing up this late?!" Aiden shot back, defensive.
"It's midnight. I'm always up at this hour." She shrugged. "Beautiful night, though. Couldn't help myself. Been prepping for tomorrow's operation."
By the fourth week, Rune had all but moved into Ignia's blacksmith forge, working alongside Percy's magic, testing and retesting whether the gold would be enough to force the shadow from the king's body. With every passing hour toward the deadline, Vane's unease had only sharpened — some part of him already bracing for how this might end.
He found her there again, late, running the same numbers for the third time that night.
"You've redone that number four times," he said, arms crossed. "It hasn't changed."
"I want to be sure."
"You want an excuse not to sleep." When she didn't answer, he stepped closer. "Rune. You've bled for Aethria Isles. For Estora. For a kingdom that's actively hunting you. If this goes wrong, you're the one standing closest to the king when the shadow breaks loose. I've watched you run this math on your own life three times now, and it's always the same answer — you go first."
"Someone has to."
"Not always you."
Her hands stilled over the ledger. "If not me — who? You? Percy? I know exactly what I can survive. I don't know what either of you can."
"That's not an answer. That's a habit." His voice stayed level, no anger in it, just tired certainty. "I'm not telling you to stop because I don't trust you. I'm telling you because I've seen this exact thing end badly before, and I'd rather argue with you now than bury you later."
Rune closed the ledger. "Noted. We move in five days, once the gold's confirmed." She walked past him without another word — then paused at the doorway. "And I'd rather you bury me than watch me survive in a world that only ever knew how to break me."
She was gone before he could answer. Vane exhaled hard, one hand dragging through his hair.
Is he serious? Does he think we can't protect everyone? Inser's voice roared, Hart's fury rising right alongside it.
Enough, both of you. Avery's voice cut through — logic, steady as ever, drawing on Reverie's authority to keep the others in check. There has to be a tactical reason for this.
What reason, Avery? What?! Hart snapped, already reaching for Reverie's permission to cage Avery in turn.
Avery didn't flinch. "We don't know what's in anyone else's head — what strategy they're running. But we're a team. And a team trusts each other." A pause. "If he ever betrays that trust, we end it, quickly. Until then—" Reverie withheld permission. Hart's protest went nowhere.
How long are we supposed to just sit here and take it?! Inser burst out, impatient. We've been silenced for years, punished for speaking up, and now Vane thinks he gets to overrule us too?!
The others shut him down fast, and he was pushed back behind the bars.
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