Chapter 214: Pushing The Limit
Theron gathered Aveline into his arms.
Since he wanted to carry her, he might as well stop pretending otherwise.
She nestled against his chest without stirring, her golden hair spilling over his arm as though she trusted him completely, even in sleep. He studied her face, wondering if he should wake her first.
If whatever he was about to attempt went wrong, perhaps being awake would give her a better chance to react.
He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She only sighed softly in her sleep and leaned a fraction closer.
The exhaustion etched into her peaceful expression made his heart soften. She must not have slept properly in days. He couldn’t bring himself to wake her.
Holding her like this filled him with a strange, quiet contentment—a sense of completeness he had never known how to name.
Then reality intruded.
His hands were occupied.
He couldn’t draw a rune.
His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon. Dawn had begun to paint the mountains in pale gold. Walking back to the capital would take hours, and if Aveline resorted to carrying them through the sky again, half the kingdom would witness another miracle before breakfast.
He almost laughed.
Earth wasn’t meant to fly. At least... that was what every earthbender had been taught.
Perhaps Aveline had been right.
People spent their entire lives learning what bending could do until they stopped wondering what it couldn’t.
The thought lingered.
What if his own limits were no different?
He drew a slow breath.
Pressed against his chest, he could hear her heartbeat.
His own had been racing ever since he’d lifted her into his arms, but with every measured breath, it gradually settled.
Until...
Beat.
Beat.
Their heartbeats found the same rhythm.
Something inside him grew astonishingly calm.
He closed his eyes.
He pictured her dormitory exactly as he remembered it. Normally, he would carve a teleportation rune into the air.
This time... He carved it only in his mind.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Silence.
On the third attempt... Something answered.
The familiar pull of space wrapped around him—not wild or violent, but gentle, as though reality itself had accepted the impossible.
When Theron opened his eyes...
The familiar dormitory greeted him.
For one suspended heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then he looked down.
Aveline was still sleeping peacefully in his arms.
A slow smile found its way onto his face.
She had come with him.
-----
Aelion made his way toward the Arcanum, his uncle’s parting words still weighing on his mind.
He understood Hadrian’s concern. They had lost good people for that cotton, and it had been stolen for the sake of the common folk. It was only right that the rebels distributed it themselves. They couldn’t afford to trust anyone else.
Yet one question refused to leave him alone.
Why had the Crown Prince been there?
More importantly... why had he remained by Ava’s side, shielding her as though protecting her had been his only concern?
Granted, what she had accomplished was nothing short of impossible. She had lifted an entire underground warehouse from the earth and carried it through the sky. Perhaps anyone witnessing such a miracle would have wanted to protect her.
But something about the way the invisible man had stood beside her unsettled him.
It hadn’t looked like the instinct of a prince protecting a powerful bender.
It had looked... personal.
She had once told him she already had someone.
Could it be...the Crown Prince?
Aelion shut his eyes and gave his head a firm shake.
No.
That couldn’t be right.
Before the thought had fully left him, he walked straight into something solid.
Someone.
"Going for a walk so early in the morning, son?"
Even before opening his eyes, Aelion clenched his jaw so tightly it made his temples ache.
His father.
Hector Sylvarien.
"Students aren’t permitted beyond the Arcanum walls before dawn, are they?" Hector asked, his voice rough and utterly devoid of warmth.
Aelion slowly lifted his gaze.
Silver hair.
Blue eyes.
A sharp jaw.
A straight nose.
With every passing year, he resembled Hector more and more.
Except for his short hair.
His fingers unconsciously brushed his long strands.
Because of this man, he had never been allowed to cut it short like the legitimate heirs of House Sylvarien. His long hair branded him a bastard before anyone even asked his name, inviting ridicule wherever he went. Worse still, Hector had never once stopped his other sons from tormenting him for it.
What right did this man have to call himself his father?
Without answering, Aelion stepped aside to continue walking.
"Is the girl enjoying her corner room?"
Aelion stopped.
The girl?
Was he talking about Ava?
"I heard you wished to leave your night robe with her," Hector continued evenly. "If you’re serious about her, I could speak to Lucien about arranging a cloaking ceremony. The Caelvaris family owes ours enough favors."
For a moment, Aelion’s heart forgot how to beat.
He was talking about Ava.
He had been keeping tabs on her.
"Marry her?" Aelion turned to face him, his expression stripped of every trace of warmth. "Why would she marry a bastard?"
His laugh was quiet and utterly devoid of humor.
"And even if she did... would our sons be allowed to wear their hair short? Or would they inherit their father’s shame as well?"
Hector merely looked at him.
Hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, his hand slowly curled into a fist.
"Marriage?" Aelion gave a mocking bow. "I don’t indulge in dreams so extravagant, Father. You can rest easy."
He straightened.
"So, if you’ll excuse me."
He turned and walked away.
"I see you’ve inherited your uncle’s tongue," Hector said behind him.
Aelion’s shoulders stiffened, but he kept walking.
"Be careful on your little excursions, son," Hector added casually. "I’ve heard the rebels have been rather active in the city."
Aelion nearly stopped.
His uncle.
The rebels.
Had his father simply made conversation...
Or had that been a warning?
He never looked back.
Hector watched until Aelion disappeared around the corner before quietly turning and walking away himself.
-----
Aelion slipped back into the Arcanum unnoticed, though his hands had yet to stop trembling from his encounter with his father.
Hector’s words refused to leave him.
Why had his father arranged for Ava to have the best room in the girls’ dormitory?
Lucien.
His father.
The royal family.
Somehow, they all seemed to know far more about Aveline than they should.
How were they connected to her?
Lost in thought, Aelion didn’t realize where his feet had carried him until the girls’ dormitory came into view.
Was she even back yet?
He wasn’t sure.
After making certain the corridor and courtyard were deserted, he scaled the stone wall with practiced ease until he reached the window of her corner room.
He cautiously peered inside.
The bed sat directly opposite the window.
And the moment his eyes landed on it... His breath caught. His fingers slipped against the stone, and for a terrifying instant, he nearly lost his footing.
What...
What was he looking at?