CHAPTER 127: CHAPTER 122: PHEROMONES (2)

The medical wing was quiet, with a faint hum of stabilizers and the sterile odor of alchemical salves. Astana stood beside the bed, his gaze fixed on the unconscious form of Lalisa Arquette. Her skin, still faintly glowing from residual ether, revealed just how close they had come to disaster.

Ether overload. Violent. Unstable. And without explanation.

She had collapsed in the ballroom, and within seconds, the energy spiraling out of her had become enough to cause mass detonation. Had Gabriel von Jaunez and Prince Christian not intervened, the explosion would have been inevitable. Then came Damian, who absorbed the rest into his own core, burning out the last of the unstable ether before the room was torn apart.

They had saved everyone, but Astana now needed to manage resources in order to learn more about the woman who had come before him. He sighed as he turned away from the bed to look out the window, frowning. Several royal guards were waiting outside in navy blue uniforms; they were from Prince Christian’s Investigation Division.

The door opened behind Astana.

He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Prince Christian Lyon stepped into the room, his presence quiet but sharp. He wore his formal coat, the Lyon crest fastened neatly at his collar, and two guards followed behind him. He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to.

Astana glanced over his shoulder, masking his discomfort beneath formality. "Your Highness." His mind was racing with Edward’s words; without his warning, he would still have lingering pheromones on him. A shiver ran down his spine; he never imagined he would be in this much danger.

He began to wonder if his father’s words that he was in a dangerous situation were more than just parental concern.

Christian gave a polite nod. "Secretary. I see you’ve reviewed her condition."

Astana looked back toward Lalisa. "Yes. But there’s nothing new. The healers can’t explain why she overloaded. No magical artifacts, no active runes, no records of suppressed spellwork."

Christian stepped forward, his gaze falling on the young woman’s still face. "I’ve read the reports. She was stable until the moment she stepped into the ballroom. No warning signs, no deviation in magical readings. But the moment she crossed the threshold..."

"She became a conduit," Astana finished, voice low. "A fuse."

Christian’s expression remained neutral. "I’ve been ordered by the Emperor to oversee the investigation. I’ll need full access to the incident logs, including any cross-records from the Paisian Convoy. She appeared on both the guest and greeting lists, but her family hasn’t been in the Capital for years."

Astana’s posture stiffened. "You’ll have them by this evening."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Astana could feel Christian’s presence weighing down the air around them, but it was not oppressive or forceful. Just... inescapable.

He hated the feeling.

Clearing his throat, Astana stepped back. "If you’ll excuse me, I’ll consult with the doctors. There are still some details I need to confirm." He didn’t wait for a reply before slipping past Christian and exiting the room.

Only once the door closed behind him did Astana allow himself to exhale. His fingers clenched briefly at his side, then released. His position as the Emperor personal secretary was becoming more dangerous than he ever imagined. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

’Maybe I should have kept moving papers around.’ He considered, but quickly dismissed, that if Christian had his eyes on him, he would be interested, even if he was useless.

Astana made his way to the side wing, where a junior healer in pale robes was preparing vials. The woman glanced up, startled to see him.

"I need something," Astana said quietly. "For pheromone exposure. I was exposed the other night, and I want to make certain that nothing happens."

The healer blinked, surprised. "Of course, sir. But first, you should conduct a panel of lab tests to ensure that nothing occurred prior to the administration."

Astana closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering if it was necessary, but one of the benefits of being near the Emperor was access to premium medical care, which he should take advantage of. "Sure, better safe than sorry." He said this while placing his clipboard on the nearest free table and undoing the buttons on his blazer.

"Discretely, please," he added.

She nodded without question and began setting up a chair to take his blood samples.

Back in the room, Christian had stayed behind without Astana’s knowledge.

He hadn’t moved from the bedside, his gaze steady on Lalisa, even as the echo of Astana’s request drifted through the slightly cracked door, soft enough for no one to notice, except someone with perfect control and heightened awareness.

’Something for pheromone exposure...’

He exhaled as he attempted to reread the chart of the woman in front of him. Christian knew he should not have done what he did the other night, but the pheromones Gabriel left behind in his attempt to clam Lalisa were taking their toll on him. He pheromone marked Astana unintentionally, but now that he heard him ask for medication for it, he was becoming irritated.

Christian was ready to do his duty by marrying for political reasons and having that stupid princess as his wife, but his feelings for his brother’s secretary were nagging at him.

His expression didn’t shift, but his silver eyes darkened, just slightly.

A shadow of something sharper passed beneath the calm.

But something had shifted in him now.

Astana was a beta; he possessed no other characteristics; Christian was certain of this after observing him on the evenings of the ball; Astana never reacted to the pheromones of those around him. He was blissfully unaware of omegas and alphas attempting to seduce him.

He had seen the wariness in Astana’s posture, the hesitation that hadn’t been there before. And now, precaution for exposure?

Christian didn’t believe in coincidence.

He reached out, almost absentmindedly, to adjust the monitoring crystal beside Lalisa’s bed. Then he turned, coat rustling, and strode toward the exit, the echo of his footsteps falling into rhythm with the thoughts now weaving quietly in his mind.