Episode 6 + 3 - Or What, Aiden?
518 Words
Elowyn stayed on her feet.
She stood at the head of the table like a blade sunk into rock. No seat. No comfort. Torchlight slipped over her crown and dulled it to iron.
“There’s news,” she said. Quiet. But it carried across the hall and landed on every plate. “A miracle healer is coming.”
The hall moved. Outlanders whispered behind hands. Forks paused mid-air. Hope drifted through like smoke from the breakfast fires, thin and desperate.
“From the border cliffs,” she added.
“He mends what no herb can. Or so I was told."
I should’ve felt relief. A healer meant Father might stand again. My hands stayed under the table. Still shaking. Still human. No wind at my wrist. No sigil to lie for me.
Oliver wasn’t watching the queen. He was watching me.
“Convenient,” he said. Dislike thick in his throat, oily and cold. “A miracle, right when you go missing. All night.”
He shoved his plate back. It scraped across wood. Loud. Heads turned.
“You don’t care anyway,” he said. Louder now. “Do you? The kingdom burns and you’re here. Breathing.”
The hall went quiet again. Even Flora stopped chewing. The smoke kept rising, indifferent.
Anger rose. Hot. Old. Familiar. The grumpy prince I used to be. The one who didn’t explain. The one who ended things with a word and a wall of wind.
I stood. Forgot.
Forgot the stone under my boots. Forgot the hollow in my chest where power used to sit. Forgot I had no sigil to answer with, no element to make them flinch.
“I’ll settle this,” I said. My voice came out flat. Hard. The way it used to before the fall. Before the tether snapped. “If you want to pursue the matter, Oliver—try.”
The threat left my mouth before sense could catch it.
Oliver’s chair did not move. He did.
Incredible speed. A blur. Air cut between us and died. One moment he was seated, bored, blade-cold. The next he was before me. Close. Too close. Breath warm against my face.
“Or what?” he said.
The word hung. A hook in the air.
The hall held its breath. Icelynn’s hand went to her mouth. Levi’s smirk vanished, replaced by something careful. Ralph’s head lifted. That secret smile was gone. Replaced with something sharper. Watching. Calculating.
Elowyn’s gaze cut across the table. Not at Oliver. At me. Measuring. Finding the c***k and pressing.
The necklace burned under my cloak. Once. Hard. A warning I could not answer. No wind to send. No stone to raise.
I had no wind to push him back. No earth to root me. No flame to threaten. Only a prince’s name. Only shame under silk. Only the memory of power in my bones.
My throat closed.
Father was sick. The healer was coming. And I, the heir, had just stepped forward with empty hands and an old temper. I’d drawn a line I couldn’t hold.
Oliver did not blink. "Or what, Aiden?"
- Writer
