Chapter 216: His Anger
Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose.
The two of them were still exchanging blows.
Hamilton had wandered over at some point and now stood faithfully beside Theron’s boots, hopping up every few seconds in a desperate attempt to be noticed. He wanted his "snack".
But alas! Theron remained completely oblivious.
Apparently defeating Aelion had become more important than acknowledging anything else.
Aveline sighed.
She walked to the mirror and calmly began brushing her hair.
Behind her...
Thud.
Shuffle.
Another fist swung through the air.
She ignored it.
"If either of you scratches my furniture..." she warned without even turning around, "...I’ll personally make you regret it."
Silence.
A glance over her shoulder revealed both men immediately adjusting their footing, suddenly taking great care not to bump into the table beside them.
They continued fighting. Just... More carefully.
Aveline stared. Incredible. They were actually listening.
A knock sounded at the door. "Ava?" Lydia called from outside.
Aveline closed her eyes.
That was it.
She marched straight between the two men just as they were about to throw another punch. Both fists stopped inches from her shoulders.
She grabbed one collar with each hand.
"Out."
Neither moved.
"Now."
Theron looked down at her. His expression shifted into something almost... disappointed, like a puppy being told to leave.
She nearly laughed. Nearly.
A louder knock came from the door. "Ava?"
"Go," Aveline repeated firmly.
Theron glanced at Aelion before giving him a smug smile. "You heard her."
"She was talking to both of us," Aelion shot back.
"Exactly."
Aveline tightened her grip on both collars. "Which is why both of you are leaving."
Before either could protest, she marched them toward the open window. "Fight somewhere else."
With one final shove...
The Crown Prince and the strongest of House Sylvarien disappeared out the window together. The room finally fell silent.
Hamilton looked at the empty window. Then at Aveline. He gave a disappointed whine and dragged himself to her bed, as if he had lost something.
Aveline opened the door to find Lydia standing outside.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Lydia looked pale, as though all the color had been drained from her face. Dark shadows lingered beneath her eyes, and despite her neat uniform, she looked exhausted. Her shoulders drooped ever so slightly, and her fingers twisted nervously around the strap of her satchel.
"Are you ill?" Aveline asked, concern immediately filling her voice.
Lydia blinked before forcing a faint smile.
"You don’t look very well either."
Aveline let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of her neck. "I haven’t been sleeping much."
"Neither have I," Lydia admitted quietly.
They walked together toward the academy buildings, as Lydia talked about ordinary things—their morning classes, the professors, and the endless assignments that seemed determined to rob every student of sleep.
The conversation drifted easily, but Aveline couldn’t shake the feeling that something weighed heavily on Lydia’s mind.
As they reached the crossroads where their schedules would separate them, Aveline gently rested a hand on Lydia’s shoulder.
"If something’s bothering you..." she said softly, "...or if someone is bothering you, you’ll tell me, won’t you?"
Lydia froze.
The words nearly escaped her lips.
She wanted to tell Aveline about the strange feeling that someone was always watching her, about the unsettling incidents that seemed too deliberate to be a coincidence... about the growing fear she couldn’t explain.
But then she looked at Aveline.
She looked exhausted.
The past few days had already demanded so much of her.
Aveline had given her far more kindness than Lydia had ever expected to receive. She had offered her a part of the corner room, shared her meals without hesitation, welcomed her company, and, perhaps most precious of all, insisted Lydia call her simply by her name instead of treating her like an untouchable noble.
Lydia had been a nobody. Aveline had never once treated her as one.
How could she burden her even more?
She forced another smile.
"I’ll be fine."
Aveline searched her face for another moment before giving a reluctant nod. "All right. But if that ever changes, you know where to find me."
"I do."
They parted ways.
As Lydia disappeared into the eastern corridor, Aveline turned toward the laboratories. Lucien had scarcely emerged from his workshop for days.
If anyone in the Arcanum could help address the growing lawlessness—and the alarming lack of safety for its female students—it was probably him.
Whether he would listen...
That was another matter entirely.
-----
On her way to the laboratories, Aveline spotted Aelion waiting beside one of the large pillars. Without a word, he fell into step beside her. He was unusually quiet.
She glanced at him once or twice, but he never met her eyes. Something was weighing on him.
The cotton, perhaps.
She had expected this conversation sooner or later.
They made their way to their usual secluded spot before either of them spoke. Aveline turned to face him. Aelion looked furious. His jaw was clenched so tightly she wondered if it hurt.
Well...
If he believed she had stolen the cotton, he had every right to be upset.
Technically...
She had.
"Do you have any idea what you’re doing, Ava?"
She blinked. His voice carried an anger that seemed far too deep for missing cotton.
Before she could answer, he spoke again.
"The Crown Prince." His blue eyes locked onto hers. "Is he the man you told me about?"
Aveline hesitated. "...Yes."
She couldn’t understand why that answer made his expression darken even further.
His composure shattered.
"How can you be this reckless?" he demanded. "Do you have any idea what you’re risking by trusting him?"
Aveline frowned.
"Why?"
"Why?" Aelion echoed incredulously.
He stepped forward and caught her shoulders before he seemed to realize what he was doing. His fingers loosened immediately, but the frustration remained written across every line of his face.
"Why?" he repeated, almost laughing at the absurdity of the question.
Aveline only looked at him. She had never seen him like this. The whites of his eyes had turned red, thin veins spreading through them from the force of everything he was trying to hold back.
He wasn’t simply angry. He looked frightened.
"Why?" she asked again, more softly this time. Aelion closed his eyes.
When he spoke again, his voice had lost its sharpness. It only sounded tired. He took a slow step backward.
"Look at me."
His hand rose to his long silver hair.
"Do you think my mother wasn’t once where you are now?"
Aveline’s brows slowly knitted together.
"She trusted an heir too."
He gave a hollow laugh.
"Look where it left her."
His fingers tightened around a strand of his own hair.
"Look where it left me."
Silence settled between them.
Aveline’s smile faded.
"And before you say the crown prince is not my father... I’ll tell you something, Ava. All men are the same. They all sound sincere in the beginning," he said. "but when it becomes real... They choose their family and their traditions over "love"."
Aveline stared at Aelion for some time. And then... she chuckled.
Aelion raised his brows.
Was she... laughing?