Chapter 86: The truth hidden behind lies
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The morning after the final festival dawned bright and impossibly clear, as if the sky itself had chosen to wash away the shadows of recent days and leave only light behind, and the floating carriages lined up outside the palace gates shimmered softly beneath the rising sun, their enchanted wheels hovering inches above the ground while faint currents of magic pulsed beneath them like a quiet heartbeat.
Students climbed aboard in groups, their laughter louder than usual, their faces flushed with leftover excitement from the celebration, and even the air seemed lighter, filled with chatter about fireworks, dances, confessions, and the sight of nobles mingling freely with commoners beneath lantern-lit trees.
Elara settled into her seat beside Seraphina, her fingers still faintly dusted with golden powder from the night before, her heart strangely full as the carriage lifted smoothly into the air and drifted forward with effortless grace, and when she glanced across at Varian seated opposite them, she caught him watching the horizon with his usual composed detachment, as though he were physically present but emotionally somewhere far beyond reach.
Aurelius, however, leaned back lazily with a grin that had not left his face since the festival ended, his mood bright enough to rival the sun itself, and as the carriages soared above rolling fields and distant forests, he began recounting exaggerated versions of the previous night’s events to anyone willing to listen, turning even the smallest moments into grand heroic tales that made Seraphina laugh and lightly swat his arm in mock protest.
Varian said nothing.
He simply watched.
He watched Elara’s smile when she tried to deny that she had forced him to dance.
He watched the way Aurelius leaned closer to Seraphina when she blushed.
He watched the joy radiating from all of them as if it were something foreign, something fragile that could disappear the moment he reached for it.
He did not understand why it unsettled him.
The carriages descended slowly as the towering gates of the academy came into view, their spires gleaming under the morning light while banners bearing each noble house’s crest fluttered proudly along the walls, and the courtyard below buzzed with activity as dozens of other floating carriages arrived at the same time, lowering gently onto cobblestone paths where students eagerly disembarked.
The moment Elara’s feet touched the ground, she inhaled deeply, smiling at the familiar sight of the academy gardens and fountains, while Seraphina immediately grabbed her wrist with excitement shining in her eyes.
“We have so much to do,” Seraphina declared breathlessly, already tugging her toward the dormitory wing. “Our room is probably a disaster after we left in such a hurry, and I need to reorganize everything before classes resume.”
Elara barely had time to wave goodbye before she was dragged away, laughing as Seraphina pulled her along through clusters of students who were still arriving and greeting one another with dramatic hugs and animated storytelling.
Aurelius watched them go with amusement before casually stepping closer to Varian and wrapping an arm around his shoulders in an exaggerated display of familiarity.
“You look like you swallowed a storm cloud,” Aurelius said lightly, leaning his weight against him.
Varian immediately stiffened.
“Remove your arm,” he replied flatly.
Aurelius ignored him entirely and tightened his hold just enough to be irritating, grinning when Varian’s jaw clenched visibly.
Around them, several students slowed their steps, whispering in disbelief as they took in the sight of someone standing so close to Varian without being thrown across the courtyard or frozen solid by his glare.
“Is that… are they friends?” one girl whispered excitedly.
“They look kind of cute,” another murmured, clutching her books to her chest. “I didn’t know Varian could tolerate anyone touching him.”
“They should be best friends,” someone else gushed, eyes sparkling.
Aurelius’s grin widened dangerously as he leaned closer to Varian’s ear.
“Did you hear that?” he asked in a low teasing voice. “They think we’re adorable.”
Varian slowly turned his head, his expression so unimpressed that it bordered on lethal.
“They are fools,” he said calmly, rolling his eyes as if the entire courtyard were beneath him.
Aurelius laughed openly, finally removing his arm but only because he was satisfied with the reaction he had provoked, and the students continued whispering long after Varian began walking away toward the private wing reserved for royal heirs.
The academy halls felt quieter in this section, the marble floors polished to perfection and the stained-glass windows casting fractured colors along the corridor walls, and when Varian reached his chamber door and pushed it open without knocking, he immediately sensed that he was not alone.
King Vyrian stood near the tall window, his once imposing figure now appearing thinner, weaker, as though sleep had abandoned him entirely, dark circles shadowing his eyes while his posture slumped in a way that did not suit a king.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Vyrian turned slowly, desperation flickering across his tired face.
“Varian,” he said hoarsely, stepping forward as though afraid his son might vanish if he moved too quickly. “You must tell me where she is.”
Varian did not need clarification.
His expression hardened instantly.
“I will not,” he replied without hesitation.
Vyrian’s hands trembled slightly as he clasped them together, pride forgotten in the face of longing.
“I have not seen Azania in days,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I need to see her. I need to speak with her. I need to make things right.”
Varian’s gaze turned cold.
“You forfeited that right long ago.”
“I was wrong,” Vyrian insisted, taking another step closer. “I was blinded by fear, by pressure from the court, by my own weakness. I know that now. I have changed. I would make her queen, Varian. I would declare her the true queen before the entire kingdom if she would only return.”
Varian’s jaw tightened at the sound of those words, not with temptation but with something darker.
“You would make her queen now,” he said quietly, “after allowing her to be cast aside, after permitting others to question her worth, after choosing politics over love.”
Vyrian flinched as if struck.
“I regret it every day,” he whispered.
Regret meant nothing.
Varian stepped back, creating distance not just physically but emotionally, his voice steady and unyielding.
“You will not see her,” he said firmly. “You will not speak to her. And you will not drag her back into this palace to satisfy your conscience.”
Vyrian’s shoulders sagged.
“She deserves better,” Varian continued. “And I will not allow you to hurt her again.”
Outside the partially closed door, Valerian stood frozen, having arrived moments earlier but stopping when he heard his father’s broken tone, and as he listened to Vyrian beg for another woman, another mother, another son, something inside him twisted violently.
He had never heard that voice directed at him.
He had never seen such desperation for his own mother.
His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as jealousy burned through him like poison.
“So that is how it is,” Valerian muttered under his breath, fury simmering beneath every word. “He would beg for her. He would change for her. But not for us.”
Inside the room, Vyrian made one last attempt.
“I am still your father,” he said weakly.
Varian’s expression did not change.
“Then act like it,” he replied coldly. “Leave me alone.”
The finality in his tone left no room for argument.
Vyrian lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking away, his steps heavy, defeated, while Varian remained standing in the center of the room, unmoved and unshaken, though something restless flickered deep in his eyes.
Valerian stepped back into the shadows before the door fully opened, ensuring he would not be seen, his breathing uneven as rage consumed every rational thought.
“If he wants Azania so badly,” Valerian whispered darkly, “then I will find her first.”
His lips curled into something that was not quite a smile.
“And when I do,” he continued, “I will destroy her… just as I will destroy that his son.”
With that, he stormed down the corridor, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the vast stone halls, leaving behind a silence that felt far too fragile to last.
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