Wayfinding | Aaravos x Reader |

CHAPTER 43

"You're what?!"

"I know, I know. Magic was never your thing but-"

"Why would I be against magic when the High Mage is my closest advisor?" The noble chortled, folding his arms behind his back.

For an instant, he followed a passing courtier with his eyes and nodded to them in greeting. But when he restored his focus on you, his mirth flitted away. You plucked at your bottom lip - a habit he had only seen when you mused woefully. It did not take him long to know what you were thinking and, honestly, his heart burst at the seams when he realized how much he had hurt you.

"Ah, right . . . about that thing I said in the past . . . it was terribly malicious of me. And I know that this may not amount to much, but I really didn't mean it."

This was all meant to be a performance - a way to throw the high-blood off the scent of your hidden objectives. It was no different than the one you had for your betrothed. But, like the evening prior, honest feelings were added into the blend. And that was a messy, messy road to be down.

"(Y/n)?" Harrow called pleadingly, snapping you back to reality. The sunken look in your eyes left him stirring with remorse. "I'm sorry. I really am. I do care about your magic. About you and the Ivory Paladin. As terrifying and dangerous as those were - they brightened my youth in ways that I still can't fathom. Please . . . believe me."

A beat passed. Your cheeks dimpled. "Fine. But know that I can't keep forgiving you this easily."

"Oh, of course. Duly noted." The male grinned toothily, squaring his shoulders as more bodies paced by in the corridors. "Viren must be thrilled to hear about your change of heart-"

"Actually . . . he doesn't know yet."

When your companion shifted his gaze sharply towards you, you wondered why you hadn't just sealed your mouth shut. "Are you not apprenticing for him?"

And there it was. Another fib. Another tiresome story to keep up. "I'm teaching myself."

"Ah, miss independent I see," he smirtled. "Be careful is all I ask."

As the conversation rang with a note of finality, you were prepared to set out to the study with satchel and tomes hugged to your chest. But Harrow's sincerity roped you down to your spot while he spun on his heels and headed to his bedchamber. With every stride he took, the air from your lungs gradually depleted. It prompted your frankness.

"The truth is-" you called out with an uncalculated, boisterous volume. You lowered your hues as the King, and others in the vicinity, gawked at you. The stiffness in your neck slackened as Harrow stepped towards you again. "I think we should be wary of how we talk to each other."

"Sorry?"

"Viren has been getting a very wrong impression about us-"

"I've known you since we were children. He knows that."

"Aye, but he learned about our jaunt to the river and . . . well . . ."

Ashamed of your disclosure and the particles of secrecy that accompanied it, you dimmed your voice to a whisper. There was no affair in the working, but it felt like you were protecting just that. The high-blood felt no different. And although it pricked his veins, the male swallowed his pride. "I understand. We'll limit ourselves to the public eye to . . . fight shy of his mistrust. But please assure him that my vows are with Sarai. And that I'll stand by her till my last breath."

You blinked owlishly at the male. He, simultaneously, sounded both hollow and genuine. Along with that, he sounded like he was attempting to persuade himself in the process. But you thought not to dwell on it. You delivered your message, your fiance was happy, and - despite the catered feeling in your breast - were back to good terms with Harrow. That was more than enough for you.