Rubezza walked through the corridors of the castle. Her steps were steady, but if one looked closely, her feet carried a sense of urgency as if she wanted to break into a run, unable to hide her bubbling happiness.
Behind her, Delis followed at the same pace, though her mood was in stark contrast with her lady. Any trace of happiness was stripped off from her face.
Once Rubezza reached the end of the corridor, where no guards or servants were in sight, her lips stretched into a wide grin. She tossed a large violet pouch in her hands, the coins inside jingling with each playful throw.
To Rubezza, that sound was pure melody.
"Princess, aren't you worried about what the king will say if you don't marry the prince?" Delis asked in a hushed voice, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
This was the kingdom of vultures and caracaras, predators waiting to feast on flesh. She couldn't risk her lady's safety.
Rubezza waved her hand dismissively. "Why would he care? Your small brain still hasn't figured out my father's schemes."
She tucked the pouch securely into the pocket of her gown and turned to face her maid, who looked utterly bewildered.
Rubezza chuckled and patted her shoulder.
"Poor Delis. Do you think with Prince Zekheran's personality, he wouldn't confess to my father that he already had a woman by his side when he visited Noctara?" She scoffed. "My father clearly knew he would reject the marriage."
Delis looked even more confused. "But Princess… then what was the point of sending you here if the marriage was never going to happen?"
Rubezza's face tightened, the smile on her lips vanishing instantly. Her hands clenched at her sides as she stared into the distance. "Father is trying to protect me," she said quietly. "If that damn duke finds out about this failed marriage alliance, he'll come knocking on our doorstep asking for my hand."
Delis's mouth fell open in sudden realization. "So the king is just stalling for time!"
"Exactly." Rubezza smiled sweetly, clearly pleased with her maid's rare moment of insight.
Meanwhile, Delis mentally scolded herself.
Who said her lady lacked wisdom? Even though she was born human and without an avian spirit, wasn't this the cunningness of a crow—the kind that drops stones into a pot just to raise the water and drink from it?"
"I just hope my brother wakes up soon," Rubezza whispered, staring at the dark clouds outside.
Delis could understand her lady's sadness.
The crown prince had been a brave man, fighting on the front lines when war threatened and ruling the court with sharp intelligence. But not long after he returned from the Midnight Hunt, he had fallen ill and hadn't opened his eyes since.
One might have mistaken him for dead, if not for the faint rise and fall of his chest, the only sign that life lingered within him.
To this day, no one knew exactly what had happened.
The Aethercloak of Noctara had identified the cause as Drownbelle, a deadly poison from bellflower. Once inhaled, it sent a person into an endless sleep.
The most terrifying truth? No remedy had ever been discovered for this poison.
Because of this, King Avenar Duscarrow, Rubezza's father and the current ruler of Noctara, had ordered every belle flower in the kingdom to be burned to ash.
And yet, no one knew how or where the crown prince had come into contact with the poison.
Rubezza sighed. "Let's go, we've got packing to do," she said, urging her maid forward.
Delis nodded and followed behind.
On the other side of the castle, just as Zekheran and Esmeray left the chamber, a large vulture perched high upon the stone wall, spread its wings and took flight. With a sharp gaze and powerful wingbeats, it soared across the castle grounds, gliding toward a solitary room hidden deep within the east wing.
The window was open, curtains fluttering in the cold breeze. The vulture flew straight in and then, in mid-air, it transformed swiftly.
A dark blur of feathers twisted into flesh. With a smooth landing, a man's feet touched the floor.
Tharuz, the youngest brother of Zekheran and the third prince of Vulkaris.
He dusted off his shirt and straightened his collar. Behind him, the fluttering curtain now blocked out what little light remained, casting the room in a deeper shadow.
A slow smile curled his lips as his gaze settled on the figure lying on the grand bed.
He made his way to the table nearby, pouring himself a cup of water. Hot steam rose, misting around his fingers. As he walked toward the bed, some of the scalding water trickled down his arm and spilled onto the frail man beneath the quilt.
The person on the bed flinched violently.
It was a wonder he could move at all.
The man lay shriveled, only the upper half of his body visible beneath the blanket. His skin clung to his bones like wet parchment. His face, once regal, was sunken and gaunt. Hair that was once the color of coal had turned a ghostly white.
His collarbones jutted out like sharp ridges beneath paper-thin flesh. Each inhale, a sound of a dying deer.
Once, he was Orakzin Tharek, the magnificent vulture king of Vulkaris, but now, he was nothing more than the last withered leaf clinging to a dying tree.
Tharuz watched the man's burning skin bubble faintly under the boiling water without flinching. Instead, his smile widened with sweet happiness.
"Good morning, Father," he said sweetly, lifting the cup, drinking water from it, ignoring the red burn trailing down his own throat.
"I heard you were feeling cold. Your dutiful son came to warm you." His voice dripped with mock concern.
"Feeling better now?"
......
*Aethercloak- Magicians similar to witches.