Chapter 4 -Avianna-
\-Avianna-
The moment we step inside the palace corridor, the noise from the courtyard dulls into something distant and manageable.
“Avi,” Caylix says quietly behind me. “A moment...”
I slow without thinking, letting the others move ahead of us. The corridor shifts around their absence, the space settling into something quieter, less watched. I smooth my hands over the fabric of my gown, drawing in a steady breath.
“Witty comments aside,” he says, voice lower now, “you’re alright?”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “I’m about to meet the man I’m supposed to marry. I think ‘alright’ might be setting the bar a little high.”
His gaze stays on me, steady without pressing.
“I’m just… a little nervous,” I add, softer this time. “But I’m fine.”
Another moment passes.
“If you’re sure…” he says.. Then, as the last of the footsteps ahead fade, “We should catch up. Before you decide to make a run for it.”
I turn forward again, something easing in my chest despite my nerves. “I wouldn’t run.”
“Of course not.”
“I would walk away with purpose.”
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Much harder to stop.”
I can’t help the smile that follows.
The doors ahead open and the courtyard comes into view, bright and expansive, filled with people who have already decided this moment is important. So I make it look effortless. We step into the light, and the shift is immediate. Conversation softens. Attention narrows. The space reorganizes itself around expectation.
My father moves forward first, composed and assured. I follow just behind him, every movement measured, every expression controlled. Caylix settles into place at my back, close enough that I don’t need to look. I feel him there as clearly as I feel my own breath. The Veylan party waits at the center of the courtyard, their formation deliberate without appearing rigid. Prince Rhydon steps forward. Up close, he is striking in a way that feels carefully maintained. Every detail is intentional. Nothing left to chance.
“Your Majesty,” he says, bowing with precise ease. “It is an honor to stand in Caelthar.”
My father inclines his head. “Prince Rhydon. You are most welcome here.”
King Erik steps forward beside him, and the difference is immediate.There is a confidence to him, something steady and unforced, something that does not need to prove itself.
“Alexander,” Erik says, clasping my father’s forearm.
“Erik.”
The exchange is brief, but it carries familiarity. Then Erik’s attention shifts to me.
“Princess Avianna.”
I curtsy, smooth and composed. “Your Majesty. It is an honor to receive you.”
When I rise, Rhydon’s attention is already on me.
“I was told you were beautiful,” he says, stepping just close enough to feel intentional without being intrusive, “but that doesn’t quite cover it. You are… considerably more than that.”
I dip into a second curtsy. “You flatter me, my prince.”
We begin moving then, the transition seamless as both courts shift toward the palace. Rhydon falls into step beside me. Charlotte joins us moments later, her presence immediate and deliberate. Rhydon notices her, his gaze lingering as Charlotte catches it and smiles like she’s just been invited into something unspoken.
“I’ve heard you’re deeply loved by your people,” he says as we walk, his gaze sliding back to me. “That you spend time among them.”
“I make it a priority to know them,” I reply.
He nods slightly.
“It shows,” he says. “Word of your closeness with them, and your fair judgment, has reached even us in Veylan.”
Beside me, Caylix grows still. The tether shifts. It is not the sharp clarity that comes with danger. This is quieter, but it settles into something I cannot ignore, a low tension beneath the surface..
Caylix feels it too. It holds between us, shared and unspoken. Rhydon’s attention moves past me.
“Your guard is attentive,” he says. “It’s reassuring to see such focus.”
“He is very good at his job,” I reply.
Caylix does not react. But I feel the way his awareness sharpens. We continue forward. Everything appears exactly as it should. And then, the tether pulls so tight I can hardly breathe.
Caylix moves before I can form the thought. His hand closes around my waist and he turns, pulling me with him in one decisive motion, shifting me out of the path of something breaking toward us. A man pushes through the edge of the crowd. His movement is uneven, driven more by urgency than control, but his direction is clear.
Toward me.
Caylix steps between us as his sword clears its sheath in the same breath. King Erik moves at once. His blade is drawn as he advances, closing the distance with the same unhesitating force. The man lunges and Caylix intercepts him.
A sharp twist of the wrist. The weapon falls from the man’s hand and strikes stone. Caylix redirects the momentum, forcing him down hard, controlling the fall before it can turn unpredictable. He follows through, driving him to the ground, securing his arms behind him with precise, unyielding force. Erik arrives a moment later, blade ready, only to find the outcome already decided.
The courtyard breaks into motion. Guards surge forward. Voices rise. Rhydon steps back, positioning himself near me, one arm slightly extended as if to shield without stepping into the conflict itself. My father does not move immediately. He watches. The man struggles beneath Caylix, but there is no strategy in it. The movement lacks direction, as though whatever drove him forward has not fully settled into his body.
“Hold still,” Caylix says, his voice low and controlled.
Pinned beneath Caylix, the man goes still. And then the laughter spills out of him. Too...loud. Too...wrong. Like it doesn’t belong to him at all. The tether tightens. Not from Caylix, but from something deeper. A guard grabs the man. He doesn’t resist, he just keeps looking at me. Guards pull him up and away, already speaking over one another, already reducing the moment into something manageable. But the feeling doesn’t leave. Caylix rises beside me, his presence immediate again, grounding.
King Erik lowers his blade slowly. His gaze shifts to Caylix and lingers. Caylix meets his gaze without reaction. My father steps forward at last, his attention moving across the space with quiet precision.
“What happened?” he asks.
“A disturbance,” Rhydon answers smoothly before anyone else can. “The situation is contained.”
He says it like he helped contain it.
My father’s gaze flicks to Caylix. A single look. A question without words.
“He was not a trained threat,” Caylix says evenly. “But his direction was intentional.”
My father holds his gaze a moment longer, then nods once. King Erik is still watching Caylix. The courtyard settles. Voices return. Order folds back into place as though nothing ever happened. Guards move. Explanations follow. The moment reshapes itself into something manageable. Nothing to be concerned about. That’s what they’ll say. I almost believe it. Until the man's laughter cuts back through it in my mind.
I try to dismiss it, but I can’t.
It felt like something was laughing through him.
I glance at Caylix. He doesn’t look at me. And in that silence, I know… He felt it too.