The gardens lay quiet beneath the gray veil of morning. Mist curled low along the ground, coiling between the roots of old trees and spilling over the edges of the stone path. The air was cool and wet, carrying the sharp, clean scent of last night's rain. Somewhere, water dripped steadily from the leaves, tiny drops gathering before falling with soft plinks into the grass.
The pond reflected the sky like tarnished silver, its surface broken only by the lazy ripple of koi just beneath. Every breath was filled with damp earth, crushed petals, and the faint metallic tang of dew on stone.
Vaelen stood at the edge of the pond, hands shoved in his pockets, and nudged a small rock with the tip of his boot until it splashed into the water. Concentric ripples spread outward, warping the reflection of the clouds overhead.
"So," he said at last, his voice carrying easily in the still air, "as promised, I'll answer your questions."
Velza stood a pace behind him, her breath misting faintly in the cool air.
This is what I was forgetting, she thought, scratching her chin absently.
"I want to know about magic," she said finally, her voice calm but steady.
Vaelen glanced over his shoulder, surprised despite himself. That's what you ask? He'd been half-expecting her first question to be about the carriage, about that day, about everything he wasn't ready to say out loud.
Good for me, he thought with a small sigh.
"Oh, so you want to know about magic?" he said, raising a brow. "But aren't you a royal guard? Shouldn't you already—"
He caught himself, waved a hand as though brushing the question aside.
"Never mind. Before you answer, let's sit somewhere. This feels like a talk we shouldn't rush."
"How about there?" Vaelen pointed toward a marble structure ahead — a domed pavilion supported by black pillars laced with veins of gold.
Inside sat a stone arrangement: a wide, circular table surrounded by five short stools, all carved from pale, smooth stone that seemed to glow faintly in the gray morning light. The entire setup rested on a raised platform, its edges still dark with rainwater. Drops clung to the table's surface, catching and scattering the soft daylight like tiny shards of glass.
Mist curled lazily around the base of the platform, shrouding the steps that led up to it. The air felt cooler here, sharper, carrying the smell of damp stone and wet leaves.
"It's quiet," Vaelen said, stepping onto the platform. His fingers trailed over the rain-slick surface of one of the stools, leaving faint streaks. "Perfect for a talk no one's supposed to overhear."
He sat, leaning one elbow on the cold table — then noticed Velza still standing across from him, her shadow stretching long in the gray light.
Vaelen pinched the bridge of his nose with a faint sigh. "When I said 'let's sit somewhere,' that meant you too, you know."
Her mouth opened — just enough to form a protest — but he cut her off with a lazy wave of his hand.
"I know what you're about to say. Just sit."
Velza's lips pressed into a thin line, but the edge of her shoulders softened ever so slightly. "As you say, your highness."
She stepped forward, her boots scuffing softly against the wet stone. Her fingers brushed the table's edge first, testing its chill, before she lowered herself onto the stool with a motion that was less rigid than usual.
Vaelen caught it — that tiny shift. A fraction of trust, or maybe just fatigue.
Either way, it tugged something at the corner of his mouth before he leaned back, folding his arms casually.
"Do you mind if I answer your question later?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost careful.
Velza shook her head once. "No, I wouldn't mind, your highness."
Vaelen tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly. "You're a royal guard, right? And you don't know about magic? How's that even possible?"
Velza's gaze didn't waver, but there was the faintest flicker of hesitation. "They never taught me how magic works."
Vaelen froze mid-breath.
That's… something new.
His first instinct was to scoff — another secret kept, another piece of ignorance shoved onto someone meant to protect him. But the thought curdled before it reached his lips.
No… not ignorance. They kept her blind on purpose.
He looked away, thumb tapping idly against the table's edge. If he asked her why, she'd only give the same answer he'd been fed his whole life — orders are orders.
The silence stretched, heavy enough to press against his ribs.
"Alright," he said finally, exhaling through his nose. "Let's start with magic." He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the cold stone. "How much do you actually know about it?"
Velza's lips pressed together before she answered. "I know it exists. And that it's…" She trailed off, brows furrowing. "Dangerous. That's all they ever told me."
Vaelen's jaw clenched, but not in anger — more like the words scraped against an old bruise inside him.
Dangerous.
That's what they'd always said about him, too.
For a moment, he almost wanted to tell her everything. To rip open the curtain, show her what they'd hidden from both of them.
But the words wouldn't come — not yet.
Well, this is… something.
There had to be a word for it — this act of playing dumb so she wouldn't catch my secrets.
Because she already knew too much.
She knew my magic was different.
Different from the tidy little spells the Academy drilled into their apprentices.
I don't use a wand.
I don't need a staff.
Half the time, I don't even bother with an incantation — and when I do, it's only because I choose to.
No. If I'm going to answer her, I'll give her what they'd teach in the academies.
The clean, polished version.
Even if I never set foot in one.
Vaelen's lips twitched faintly — almost a smirk before he smoothed it away.
But Velza caught it.
Her eyes narrowed just slightly, reading something in his face — suspicion? amusement? — but she said nothing, her posture as still as carved stone.
"So," Vaelen said at last, leaning back, letting the marble's coolness seep into his spine, "before I start telling you about magic… there's actually a more proper word for it. Kryth. But people just call it 'magic' because it's easier."
"As if… like Kaithryn," Velza murmured under her breath.
Vaelen tilted his head. "That's your name, isn't it?"
"Yes."
He rolled the word on his tongue, slow, deliberate. "Velza Kaithryn… Kaithryn…" He said it again, softer this time, almost tasting the sound of it. "This really is your name?"
"Yes."
Vaelen exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes narrowing faintly. I'm going to get a surprise by the end of this conversation, aren't I?
"Kaithryn," he repeated, almost thoughtfully.
Velza's lips curved the faintest fraction. "But you can call me—"
"So," Vaelen cut in lightly, straightening just a little, "where was I? Right. Kryth—" He gestured vaguely with one hand. "You said something?"
Velza blinked once, the moment gone. "No."
Vaelen watched her for a beat longer before letting out a low hum, leaning back again.