Chapter 28 -Rhydon/King Alexander-
\-Rhydon-
The storm clouds hanging over Caelthar have turned the corridors dim and gray, torchlight reflecting gold against wet stone while servants move quietly through the halls with lowered voices. The entire castle feels tense somehow. I notice it immediately the second I step into the eastern corridor. Servants lower their voices when I pass. Guards straighten faster than usual. Something restless hangs beneath the surface of the castle now.
I round the corner toward Avianna’s wing just as two maids step out carrying empty breakfast trays between them.
“She only ate because he stayed,” one whispers softly.
The second girl sighs dreamily. “Gods, I would too if Caylix brought me food looking like that.”
Both girls laugh under their breath. Neither of them have noticed me yet.
“I heard he barely left her chambers all night.”
Another quiet laugh. Something unpleasant twists beneath my ribs. The girls finally glance up and nearly drop the trays when they see me standing there.
“Your Highness,” they stammer together, lowering quickly into curtsies.
I smile smoothly.
“You seem very interested in the princess’s guard.”
Both maids pale.
“No, Your Highness, we only meant…”
“It’s alright,” I interrupt lightly. “You may go.”
They hurry away immediately afterward. I watch them disappear down the corridor as my smile fades. The princess’s guard. Not me, her future husband. Him. My jaw tightens hard enough to ache. I’m sure the gossip means nothing. Avianna has been ill for days. Naturally her guard would remain close while she recovers. Servants would exaggerate the situation into something more interesting to keep themselves entertained, surely.
And yet…
I cannot stop hearing his name everywhere lately. Caylix. He has somehow become the center of every conversation inside this palace.
Steel cracks violently against steel somewhere ahead. The training courtyard. I step outside into the rain. And immediately understand why the servants stare at him. Caylix moves through combat like he was born for it.
Rain pours across the courtyard hard enough to soak through clothing and slick the stone beneath their boots, but he barely seems affected by it. Two royal guards circle him carefully with practice blades raised while Caylix stands loose and calm between them, dark hair dripping against his forehead.
One lunges first. Caylix sidesteps smoothly, catches the man’s wrist, twists hard enough to disarm him instantly, then drives him flat into the mud. The second attacks immediately afterward. Three strikes. That is all it takes. The guard is on his back gasping for air before I fully process what happened. The courtyard falls silent afterward. Caylix lowers the practice sword slowly. The man fights like he is constantly holding himself back from something far worse.
One of the guards mutters nearby, “Gods help anyone stupid enough to threaten the princess.”
Several others nod. I watch Caylix more carefully now and finally he notices me standing there. His expression does not change at all.
“Your Highness.”
I descend the steps slowly into the rain and study him carefully.
“How is the princess?”
Something shifts in him so quickly most people would miss it entirely.
“She is recovering.”
“You’ve remained very close to her lately.”
Silence stretches briefly between us while rain crashes against stone around the courtyard.
“The king ordered constant protection,” he says finally.
I almost wish he would challenge me outright. At least then I would know what to do with this feeling crawling beneath my skin. Instead, he simply stands there looking entirely too composed and perfectly respectful.
“How long have you served her?” I ask.
“Thirteen years.”
Thirteen. Long enough to know every expression on her face, every habit, every weakness. And long enough for her to trust him instinctively. Something twists inside my chest before I force it back down. Not jealousy, no, it’s something else. Irritation, perhaps.
The growing awareness that this man’s place beside Avianna feels far too natural to everyone around them. Including her.
I smile thinly.
“You are clearly very skilled,” I say lightly. “But try not to forget your place, guard.”
Caylix does not react at all. “Yes, Your Highness.”
That calm obedience irritates me more than anger would have. Because there is nothing openly wrong here, nothing inappropriate. And I cannot shake the growing feeling that Caylix occupies a place in this kingdom no ordinary guard ever should.
_____________________________
\-King Alexander-
I stand beside the fire while rain taps steadily against the windows of my study. Across from me, Agameus closes another ancient text with visible frustration.
“Nothing?” I ask quietly.
The elder exhales heavily. “Nothing useful.”
That answer unsettles me more than I care to admit. Agameus has spent years studying the magic living inside Caylix, and every answer only seems to lead to more questions.
“The resistance he displayed during the hex should not have been possible,” Agameus says carefully, adjusting his spectacles. “Not to that extent.”
My gaze shifts toward the fire. No, it should not have been. A lust hex erodes discipline first. Desire clouds judgment, weakens restraint and eventually instinct overwhelms control entirely. Yet somehow Caylix endured the physical effects, the nightmares, the repeated psychological assaults… and emerged more stable afterward instead of less.
“And before you ask,” Agameus continues slowly, “no, that resistance did not come from the tether magic I placed on him as a boy.”
My attention sharpens immediately.
“I reviewed every binding from thirteen years ago,” he says. “None of them explain this.”
Silence settles between us.
“So what does?” I ask finally.
Agameus hesitates.
“That,” he says quietly, “is the problem.”
The fire crackles softly.
“The tether was never meant to behave this way. Protection and awareness, yes. Emotional connection, certainly. But this…” His brow furrows deeply. “Something inside Caylix has been interacting with the tether from the beginning. I simply failed to recognize it.”
My jaw tightens because I have begun suspecting the same thing.
“His instincts are unnatural,” Agameus continues. “The speed at which he senses danger alone should be impossible.”
Every time danger appears, Caylix reacts first. And yet despite all of it, truth magic has never once shown me doubt in him. Only loyalty, only devotion, only restraint strong enough to border on self-destruction.
Agameus sinks slowly into the chair across from me. “I wish I knew what he was.”
“So do I.”
The admission leaves quietly.
Because every investigation into Caylix’s past has failed. There’s no records, no family, no explanation for the runes hidden beneath his skin or the instincts he should not possess.
The fire shifts softly. My thoughts drift back toward the hex, toward Avianna.
Dark magic fed upon the strongest emotions it could find and discovered something neither of them has admitted aloud yet.
I exhale slowly through my nose.
Eventually they will realize it themselves. They will have to. The hex will continue escalating until the truth beneath it is acknowledged. It keeps rejecting separation because separation itself is not the problem.
Denial is.
But they must arrive there on their own. Forced truth is not truth at all.
I only hope they recognize what lives between them before the hex turns their denial into something neither of them can survive intact.