Page 194 of The Ascended
I scrunched my eyebrows, confused. "What do you mean? You brought me there after the banquet."
He stared at me blankly, as if struggling to recall something just beyond his grasp. He shook his head slowly. "Gods, I feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes."
He stood abruptly, moving to the window. How could he not remember? We'd spent hours there.
Had it been some kind of test? Or was something wrong with Chavore?
"I know it may seem unfair for a prince to complain about much," he said after a long silence, his back still to me. "But my father and I have a unique relationship." He turned, his expression oddly vulnerable. "You have your father and your sister. And sure, I've never been alone, but I don't think it's anywhere near the kind of relationship you have with them."
The raw honesty in his voice caught me off guard. I found myself responding in kind before I could think better of it.
"When Thais and I were brought to the Trials, the priests killed our father," I said, the admission burning my throat. "Because he was housing us."
Chavore's face crumpled slightly. "I'm so sorry. That is such a tragedy." He crossed back to his chair, leaning forward earnestly. "I do wish there were better ways to go about it. But it's dangerous for the blessed to be around the masses."
The words came out sounding rehearsed, as if they'd been drilled into him since childhood. Anger bubbled up in my chest—not just at him, but at the entire system that had cost Sulien his life. When I looked at Chavore, at the sincere distress in his eyes, I realized with a jolt that this was just how he'd been raised. What he'd been taught to believe.
And I couldn't risk showing too much of how I actually felt.
"My father never once told me he wanted me to stay in Sundralis with him," Chavore said quietly, staring into his glass. "It was decided I would pledge to Bellarium from the start. It's not like I even had another sibling to compete with, but I still always felt second best. Like I was never enough."
He’d never asked his legitimate heir. But he’d asked me.
We fell into silence. I found myself understanding that feeling more than I wanted to admit. Not to the same degree, perhaps. Thais was a cherished piece of me, my twin, my other half. But there had been times when I felt second best to her. Her powers presenting early had shifted both Sulien's and my existence around her, reorganizing our lives to protect her. It was no one's fault, but Sulien and Thais had always been closer in some ways.
Still, I couldn't imagine feeling second best to someone who wasn't even there—to a realm, to a throne, to expectations that could never be fulfilled.
I looked over at Chavore, my brother who didn't know we were brothers, and for some reason, I felt hurt for him.
Maybe in another life we could have acknowledged each other in that way. In another world.
But not this one. In this one, I would have to remember that no matter how genuine his pain seemed, he was still Olinthar's son. Still part of the system that had destroyed everything I loved.
And no amount of shared understanding could change that.
Chapter 47
Inevitabilities
I allowedmyself one night to wallow. One night to lie curled beneath my blankets, replaying every humiliating moment of the trial, every shameful confession the phantom Xül had drawn from me. One night to feel the burn of mortification as I remembered Voldaris watching me.
But when dawn broke, I forced myself out of bed.
I took extra care with my appearance that morning, crafting an image of perfect indifference. My hands barely trembled as I combed my long black waves, practicing the mask I would wear—slightly bored, mildly amused, utterly unconcerned with whatever anyone might have heard.
I stared at my reflection, forcing my jaw to unclench. "Just get through today," I whispered to myself.
What did it matter if everyone had heard my pathetic desires? What did it matter if Xül knew I wanted him? I was here to kill Olinthar. Everything else was secondary.
By the time I'd finished preparing, I had my emotions firmly under control. But instead of heading to the dining hall as I normally would, I found myself drawn to the eastern exit of the Bone Spire. Ineeded air. Space. And perhaps most of all, I needed someone who wouldn't look at me with pity. Judgement, sure. But never pity.
I slipped through the lesser-used corridors, avoiding the main hallways where I might encounter any servants or, worse, Xül himself. The morning air kissed my skin as I emerged from the Spire.
The walk to the other side of the island wasn’t long—it wound through groves of bone-white trees whose branches rattled in the constant wind. By the time I reached the smaller spire, my cheeks were flushed from the brisk air.
I found Marx in one of the small training yards behind the building, practicing forms with a throwing knife. A cursed one, evident from the swirls of black energy that circled it. She moved with such feline grace, each strike lethal and on target. For a moment, I simply watched, admiring her control.
"Are you going to stand there all day, or did you actually want something?" Marx called without breaking her rhythm.
