Chapter 213: To Take Credit
Aveline’s thoughts drifted back to the people she had met inside the abandoned warehouse.
The rebels.
They were rough around the edges. Some carried scars that ran deeper than the ones visible on their skin. They had every reason to resent the nobles who had abandoned them, and hatred had found a place inside many of their hearts. Yet beneath that anger, she had seen something else.
Compassion.
Every one of them had risked their lives tonight for people they did not even know.
"They won’t mind," she said quietly.
Theron looked down at her.
"Hm?"
"I don’t think they’ll care who delivers the cotton." She rested her chin upon her folded arms, watching the first streaks of dawn stretch across the eastern sky. "As long as it reaches the people who need it."
Her voice was gentle, but there was not the slightest hesitation in it.
"For the mother trying to keep her child warm this winter, it won’t matter whether the cotton comes from the Crown Prince or from the rebels. She won’t be thinking about politics." A small smile touched her lips. "She’ll only be grateful that her child doesn’t freeze."
Theron studied her in silence.
Was she truly that naïve?
The rebels had risked everything. Many of them hated the noble houses with a passion he could scarcely imagine. Surely they would want the people to know who had stolen the cotton, who had defied the Chancellor, who had become their heroes.
Wouldn’t they?
His gaze lingered on Aveline.
She wasn’t saying it because she expected anyone to agree.
She simply... believed it.
Then another thought quietly settled over him.
Perhaps she never considered who received the praise.
Perhaps that was why she had been able to lift an entire warehouse without stopping to wonder whether anyone would remember her name afterward.
She simply saw something that needed to be done...and did it. The realization left him both humbled and a little afraid.
If someone with a selfish heart possessed power like hers...
He didn’t want to imagine what the world would become.
"Still," he said at last, his voice softer than before, "be careful around them."
"I will."
She shifted closer until her head rested comfortably against his chest. One hand settled over his abdomen, her fingertips absently tracing slow circles through the fabric of his shirt.
The simple, unconscious gesture nearly made him forget they had spent the night fighting for their lives.
After a comfortable silence, she spoke again.
"What are you planning to do about the Chancellor?" she asked. "I heard he’s also your father’s..."
Her voice faltered. Perhaps she shouldn’t mention the King’s mistress. She searched for another way to phrase it.
"...favorite minister?"
A quiet laugh escaped Theron.
"You don’t have to dance around it." His smile held little amusement. "The Chancellor is the grandfather of my father’s bastard son."
Aveline’s fingers paused.
There was no bitterness in his voice.
Only exhaustion.
She couldn’t help wondering how much that must have hurt him. To know the King had built another family while Theron, the Crown Prince, had spent his life trying to earn a father who always seemed just beyond reach.
"What are you going to do?" she asked softly.
His expression grew thoughtful.
"I have a plan."
His hand continued its slow path along her back, gentle enough that she almost missed the way his jaw tightened.
"He’s remained in that position for far too long."
Images from the warehouse flashed through his mind.
The messenger.
The order.
Burn the cotton.
The Chancellor had been willing to sacrifice an entire winter’s supply rather than allow Theron a single victory.
A man capable of such cruelty had no place standing beside the throne.
"Get the cotton to the people first," Aveline murmured.
She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes.
"The rest can wait."
Her priorities were always so simple.
So clear.
And somehow...
Always right.
Theron smiled.
"I promise."
The word carried more weight than she realized.
She had risked her life to place that mountain of cotton into his hands. He would see every last bale delivered personally if he had to.
The wind whispered gently through the pines, carrying away the lingering scent of smoke from the distant battlefield. Above them, the stars faded one by one as dawn slowly claimed the sky.
Neither of them spoke again.
Nestled against him, Aveline’s breathing gradually slowed until it settled into a peaceful rhythm.
Theron glanced down.
She had fallen asleep.
A smile found him before he knew it.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, he brushed a loose strand of golden-blonde hair away from her face. The early morning light painted her features with a quiet softness that made her seem almost unreal.
He bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Aveline’s lips curved into the faintest smile in her sleep.
His own smile deepened.
For the first time in weeks, the impossible no longer felt impossible.
With Aveline beside him, he could almost believe that he would overcome the Chancellor...
Defy his father...
And perhaps, one day...
Find the pieces of himself that had been lost.
But first, he needed to return her to her dormitory. If anyone discovered she had slipped beyond the Arcanum’s walls, punishment would surely follow.
The problem was that Aveline had fallen fast asleep against him, her breathing slow and even, utterly oblivious to the dilemma she had left him with.
Theron’s gaze lingered on her peaceful face as an impossible thought surfaced.
Could he take her with him?
He had attempted it once before—with a stray dog that had wandered into the palace gardens. The moment he teleported, the animal had been left exactly where it stood, while he had arrived alone.
Since then, he had accepted it as one of the unbreakable limits of his magic. He could never transport another living being alongside himself.
Yet this was Aveline.
Somehow, the certainty he had relied upon no longer felt quite so certain.
------
Back in the warehouse, Aelion moved among the rebels, making certain everyone had been accounted for.
The raid had not been without sacrifice. Two of their own had fallen, and several others bore fresh wounds, their clothes stained with blood and ash. Yet considering the Chancellor had intended to bury them beneath a building of burning cotton, it was nothing short of a miracle that so many had survived.
No one spoke much. Those who did exchanged bewildered glances, their voices hushed with disbelief.
An entire section of the earth had risen into the sky... By a single woman.
A woman who, at first glance, looked far too slight to command such overwhelming power.
Aelion found his uncle already surrounded by several rebels, listening as they recounted everything that had happened. By the time Aelion approached, Hadrian Sylvarien dismissed the others with a quiet nod.
His piercing blue eyes settled on Aelion.
"Where’s the cotton?"
Aelion swallowed.
"I’ll find out."
Hadrian studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"The invisible man..." His voice remained calm, but there was unmistakable gravity beneath it. "Do you know who he is?"
Aelion moistened his lips.
"I believe it could be the Crown Prince."
The admission only deepened the silence between them.
If it truly had been Vaelor Blackwyre... then why had he been protecting Aveline?
How did the two of them know each other?
"I’ll ask her," Aelion said at last.
Hadrian’s gaze didn’t waver.
"The cotton belongs to us."
There was no anger in his voice—only the weight of a leader responsible for feeding countless people who had placed their hopes in him.
Aelion paused.
"I know."
With that, he turned and left.
He needed to find Aveline.