Sold To The Cruel Prince

Chapter 188: Her Real Name

"They need you, Ava. You could give them hope," Aelion continued. "Let them see you standing beside them, and let them know they have someone powerful in their corner. Let them hope."

For a while, Aveline had been half-listening, more irritated by the persistence in his tone than by the words themselves. He had been pressing at her for some time now, trying to drag her toward some purpose he clearly believed was waiting for her, and she was beginning to feel worn down by it.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked at last, letting out a tired breath. "You have been nagging at me for ages."

Aelion did not seem offended by that, which only made him more frustrating.

"A noble is hoarding cotton," he said. "Almost half of what is needed. We have a plan. I need you with us on the raid."

Aveline stopped walking and turned to look at him properly.

"A raid?" she repeated.

"Yes," Aelion said, already warming to the explanation. "We only need your help getting the cotton out of storage. After that, my uncle and the others can handle the distribution."

Aveline’s brows drew together.

"Isn’t that stealing?" she asked.

Aelion rolled his eyes. "They are hoarding it."

"That does not make it any less stealing, does it?"

To that, he had no immediate answer.

Aveline was not particularly precious about laws, and she was certainly not the sort to defend nobles out of principle, but she still found the whole thing uncomfortable.

A raid was a raid. A storage room was still someone else’s property. She had no desire to be caught in the middle of something that might go very wrong because everyone else had decided that the ends justified the means.

The King paid her a personal visit. Who knew? She might be spied on. She didn’t want to cause trouble for others with good intentions.

Then another concern rose up, more practical than moral.

"Aelion," she said slowly, "are you sure about this? I have no control over my abilities. I can build a wall of fire around myself, and you want me in a cotton storage?"

Aelion hesitated.

For once, he looked as though he was actually weighing her words instead of simply pushing past them.

He tried again, after a moment, to convince her. He spoke of timing, of plans, of how her presence would matter, of how they only needed her for one part of the operation.

But Aveline had already made up her mind. The idea of stepping into a cotton storehouse with unstable fire bending and no clear control over it sounded less like a plan and more like a disaster waiting for a witness.

She shook her head.

"No. I’ll keep this secret. That’s all the help I can do for now."

Aelion’s expression tightened, but he did not argue again. At least not this time.

Aveline gave him a look that made it clear the matter was settled, then turned away and headed back toward the girls’ dormitory without waiting for another round of persuasion. She could feel him watching her go, probably irritated, probably disappointed, maybe even a little offended. She did not care enough to check.

She had already decided.

If they wanted cotton moved, then they would have to find another way. If they wanted hope, they would have to earn it from someone less likely to set half the city on fire by mistake.

-----

Theron returned to his bedchambers with the kind of exhaustion that settled into the body rather than the mind.

By the time he reached the door, his shoulders felt heavy with the weight of the day, and all he wanted was a bath, a little silence, and perhaps a few precious minutes in which no one would demand anything from him.

The chamber was already prepared.

Hot water waited in the bath, steaming gently in the dim light, and just as he preferred, the maids had already withdrawn. He appreciated that more than he would ever admit aloud.

It meant no unnecessary conversation, no hovering eyes, no one pretending not to notice the strain on his face. It meant he could strip away the day as thoroughly as he stripped away his clothes.

He removed each layer slowly, methodically, and stepped into the bath.

The heat spread over him at once, loosening the tension in his muscles, sinking into the ache in his shoulders, coaxing some of the stiffness from his back. Steam gathered against his skin and blurred the edges of the room. For a moment, he allowed himself to lean back and close his eyes, letting the water hold him in a way the rest of the world never did.

And the moment he did, her face came to him.

Ava.

The name surfaced so sharply it almost startled him.

It did not feel quite right. It felt too short, too simple, too easy for someone who had already managed to become lodged so thoroughly in his thoughts.

Her name should have been something else. Something that carried more weight. Something that matched the way she looked at the world as though it were both dangerous and fascinating at once.

What was her real name?

He frowned faintly, though his eyes remained closed. The water around him shifted as bubbles broke at the surface, soft and soothing, but his thoughts had already wandered far from the comfort of the bath.

Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. ƒreewebɳovel.com

"Kael?"

The shadow in the room moved.

From the darker corner near the wall, Kael stepped forward at once, having clearly debated whether to interrupt the prince’s rare moment of rest or let him remain undisturbed a while longer. In the end, duty had won out, as it always did.

Theron did not bother to look irritated. He simply waited.

Kael bowed his head. "Sire."

He hesitated, then began at once, knowing the prince would dislike the delay more than the news itself.

"One of the rebels is being protected by someone powerful," he said. "I searched the likely safe houses in the city and could not find their main hideout. Their leader... he may be a noble, if I had to guess. He understands our methods. He anticipates us several steps ahead."

Theron’s eyes closed again, though this time it was not in relaxation.

The rebels.

They had been a nuisance for far too long, but nuisances became dangerous when they learned how to organize themselves. If their leader was indeed someone with noble knowledge, then the matter was more serious than simple unrest. It meant there was intelligence behind the rebellion, not just anger. Not just desperation.

He let out a slow breath through his nose.

"And?" he asked.

Kael shifted slightly. Theron could hear the uncertainty in the man’s voice before he even spoke the next part.

"And... His Majesty may have recently visited the Arcanum."

Theron opened his eyes at once.

The water around him seemed suddenly colder.

Kael continued before he could interrupt. "There were no clear traces left for me to track, but my family had noticed an unusual sheath or distortion around certain parts of the Arcanum this morning. Around the girls’ dormitory in particular."

Theron stared at him.

"And they did not investigate further?" he asked, his voice sharpening. "Not even your father?"

The spymasters recorded everything. That was their job. That was the whole point of their existence. If there had been an unusual magical trace near the dormitory, it should have been documented, examined, and passed upward without delay. The fact that it had not reached him sooner irritated him more than it should have.

Kael rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly reluctant.

"My father was extremely secretive about it," he said. "Perhaps..."

He stopped.