Page 53 of Sundered By Fate

"Solarian," one of them said in a clipped voice. "We were hoping to have a word."

The speaker was Lord Tavian, one of the more vocal Pureblade supporters Aric had encountered during his time in the palace. The others were familiar faces as well—Lord Marchand, Lady Elira, and a few others Aric couldn't name. Their presence sent a shiver down Aric's spine; he envisioned their disdain like a physical weight pressing down on him.

"Of course," Aric replied with a careful smile. "Though I can't imagine what we might have to discuss."

"Oh, don't be coy." Tavian gestured for Aric to join them in a nearby alcove, away from the music and chatter of the ballroom. "You're the talk of the palace these days. We've been quite curious about your . . . loyalties."

Aric forced himself to remain still even as his skin itched with anticipation. This was dangerous territory; one misstep here, and the Pureblades would have all the ammunition they needed against him.

"My loyalties are with Astaria," he said carefully. "I am a mage of the Silver Tower, sworn to protect our people from any threat."

Tavian made a dismissive noise. "That's not what we've heard." He leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with malice."We've heard you've been keeping rather...interesting company as of late."

Aric's heart skipped again, memories of Valerian's touch too fresh in his mind. Did they know about his dance with the Lord Regent? Or was this something else—Sylthris's shadow lingering around him wherever he went?

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," Aric said, keeping his voice steady.

"Don't play games with us." Marchand's voice was rougher than Tavian's, and his stare even more unnerving. "We're aware there are those who wish to see our dear kingdom torn apart from within—and it's our job to root out all traitors and dissenters before they can do any harm."

"Is that so." Aric met Marchand's stare head-on, refusing to let himself be intimidated by whatever power play this was supposed to be. "I assure you I have no desire to harm my home?—"

"I'm glad to hear it." Marchand's lips curled into an oily smile. "Because rumors have reached us that some at court may feel differently—and I'm sure we'd hate for anything unpleasant to happen on account of such divisive attitudes taking root among our leaders..."

Suddenly, a commotion erupted near the balcony. Aric rushed to investigate, pushing through the startled crowd. He discovered a nobleman collapsed on the ground, babbling incoherently about shadows and whispers.

"What's going on?" Aric demanded, kneeling beside the fallen man. "Sir, can you hear me?"

The nobleman let out a strangled cry, his eyes rolling back in his head. "The shadows . . . they're everywhere . . . Can't escape . . ."

As Aric reached out to steady him, he noticed a faint, shimmering distortion in the air nearby. His breath caught. He'd seen this before, back in Thornhaven.

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd as they noticed the distortion too. Fear and confusion painted their faces, and whispers of dark magic and assassins filled the air.

Aric knew he needed to act fast before panic set in. "Everyone, please remain calm," he said, trying to inject authority into his voice. "I'm a mage of the Silver Tower. I'll handle this."

He focused his senses on the distortion, trying to ascertain its nature. It felt like a tear in reality itself, a portal to something dark and twisted that shouldn't exist in their world.

The distortion slowly shrank and faded from view—but not before leaving behind an oily residue on the very fabric of reality itself. Aric's mind was already working furiously to determine what it could mean when someone else stepped forward through the throng of onlookers gathered around them.

"What happened here?" Lord Regent Valerian demanded, pushing through the crowd.

Aric felt himself tense involuntarily as Valerian approached; his head still spun from their earlier dance together that evening—but now there was no room left for distraction or personal feelings when something so dire was unfolding right before them all.

Valerian's blue eyes snapped over to Aric, assessing him with that same unnerving intensity as earlier in their dance.

"What do you make of this, Solarian?" he asked. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"

Aric hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing in this world, my lord."

Valerian's frown deepened, and he seemed to be measuring his next words carefully.

"This is a matter for the Pureblades," Cyrus announced as he and his men pushed their way forward. "Step aside."

Aric bit back a retort, but Valerian caught his arm, giving him a quick shake of his head. "Let them have their investigation," Valerian murmured. "It's better we have them distracted by shadowy threats than turning their attention back on us."

Reluctantly, Aric nodded and stepped away from the nobleman as the Pureblades began their examination.

He felt Valerian's eyes on him as he turned away.

---