Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 433. Immunity
A long silence followed.
Then Rose stood.
Her voice was calm, but firm. "I'll call for the Seer tomorrow. We need confirmation. If Pontus is hosting something older than politics, we can't treat this like another royal dispute. We need to know what we are walking into."
Angel nodded.
And this time, it felt heavier.
Final.
"Good," he said.
Then—after a moment—he added, quieter, "I won't let Jane go back there blind. So are we."
Rose turned to him, eyes softer. "You care."
He didn't look away. "She reminds me of something."
"What?"
"Someone I used to be."
Rose didn't say anything after that.
She just walked over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't move.
But her touch stayed there. Steady. Warm.
And the fire kept burning.
A moment passed. Then another. The silence was heavy, but not suffocating—just the kind that came from two people thinking the same thing at the same time but choosing different ways to sit with it.
Angel reached up slowly, placing his hand over hers—not gripping, just resting. The weight of it alone was enough to say: Thank you.
Then he exhaled. A long breath, the kind he rarely let anyone hear.
"There's no point in thinking about the past," he said at last, his voice a quiet echo in the firelit room. "All of it's already done."
He pulled his hand away and leaned forward, letting the flickering glow catch on the sharp line of his jaw. "And… I don't think she'll have the same fate as me."
Rose tilted her head slightly. "You mean Jane?"
Angel nodded. "Her family isn't really the enemy here. Not in their hearts. They're just… under her stepmother's influence. That's different from outright hatred."
Rose folded her arms as she leaned against the back of the chair, brows drawn together in thought. "Yes, but that's the part I don't understand."
Angel looked up at her, waiting.
"If this woman can influence people," Rose said slowly, "why didn't she use it on Jane too? She did it to the king. To the brother. The court, maybe. But not her."
That question hung in the air.
Angel's expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he hummed—a low, thoughtful sound in the back of his throat.
"True," he said.
"She was the biggest threat," Rose continued. "Even if she was young at the time. Royal blood. Political value. And yet she got away? That doesn't track."
"Unless…" Angel said, more to himself now, "she couldn't be controlled."
Rose leaned in. "You think Jane has some sort of immunity?"
Angel's gaze drifted to the fire again. "I'm not sure."
There was a beat of silence. His fingers tapped against the carved armrest absently, like he was feeling something that wasn't quite there.
"But I didn't sense much power from her," he added. "Nothing aggressive. Just a faint trace—enough to be above a common citizen, but nowhere near a mage."
Rose raised a brow. "You sure?"
He nodded once. "When she stepped into this castle, I felt it. Subtle, like echo off glass. Old blood, maybe. Inert."
Rose pursed her lips. "Could be a seal. A curse. Or…"
"Or she's something else," Angel finished. "Something dormant."
She crossed the room slowly, heels silent on the rug. The smell of ash and lemonwood lingered in the air as she stood near the hearth, staring down into the embers.
"You're worried," she said after a moment.
Angel didn't deny it.
"You think if Jane was immune, it wasn't because she resisted," Rose continued. "You think… maybe whatever's inside her blocked it."
Angel finally stood, his dark coat shifting with the movement, his presence stretching across the room like shadow cast by will alone.
"She's important, Rose. More than she realizes."
Rose turned to face him. "So what do we do?"
He didn't answer right away. The fire crackled louder now, as if the silence itself demanded to be filled.
"I want to test something," he said finally. "If she is immune—naturally or otherwise—we need to know why. Because that's not a gift people are born with. Not often."
"And if it's not immunity?" Rose asked, folding her arms tighter.
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