CHAPTER 64: A LITTLE NOISE

As Levan left Melyn to tend to his wife, he made his way back to the Dawn Gallery, where the priest and wardens were already assembled.

It was a ritual he had witnessed countless times to the point that the rhythm of it had long ceased to move him; the chants, the faint scent of incense, the low murmur of prayer. It was all so familiar that they blurred into one indistinguishable sound.

Still, he stood there, arms crossed, and watched everything. The light that filtered through the stained glass scattered over the floor in fractured hues, painting his boots in shifting gold and red. Somewhere within that calm, he thought of her again.

The way she looked so scared as she watched her darkened veins; the way she fumbled nervously when their eyes met.

Now that he thought about it... perhaps he should have simply asked her to remain in his chamber, or brought her along to the solarium. It was not that her praying had been wrong, it was her impulsive decision to answer the whispers that unsettled him.

But considering the blood she carried, her condition was not nearly as dire as those without lineage to shield them — those ordinary people. What made it worse was the fact that she was his wife. That alone made the weight of responsibility sit heavier on his shoulders than he cared to admit.

He should not have felt this worried, but the thought of her alone in the dark lingered stubbornly in his mind. He knew she hated it. He remembered that night after the family dinner, when she had followed him through the corridors because the palace had been ’empty.’ He had been colder then, far less patient. And still, she had not complained.

He exhaled quietly, the memory slipping deeper into his thoughts. Perhaps that was why it bothered him so much. Not the danger itself, but the fact that he knew exactly how frightened she must have been.

As the ritual neared its end, the priests’ chanting softened into murmurs and the wardens began to trace the final sigils across the marble floor. Levan lingered for a moment longer before turning away. His steps echoed faintly through the corridor as he made his way toward her chamber.

Once he reached there, he did not hesitate to step inside. Everything was as it should be, except it was empty of her presence. His eyes immediately traced the familiar lines of the furnitures. Her bed remained untouched; the lanterns still glowed.

Suddenly, he remembered Melyn’s words from days ago, about how Ilaria had been disturbed in the morning. It had been unusual, alarming even. The Blithe’s influence should have waited until dusk when shadows deepened and the wards weakened. And now, it happened again.

His jaw tightened, the memory twisting in his chest like a cold knot. How had he been so blind, or so stubborn? She had followed him willingly despite her fear, she had trusted him to keep her safe, and he... he had brushed past her trepidation while muttering something cold and dismissive.

He could still see her small hands gripping the hem of his cloak that night, hear the quiet shiver in her voice, and feel the weight of her trust pressing against the wall of his indifference. She had been nothing but brave, and he had been... cruel, in his own way.

He exhaled, closing his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead.

Just when he thought he would dwell in the guilt again, his instincts — honed over years of guarding the kingdom — bristled.

There was something off.

He swept his gaze across the chamber like a predator snapped into action upon noticing its prey. Slowly, he walked over the center of the room. The sensation was faint at first, like the whisper of a shadow brushing against the edges of his mind, but it grew with each heartbeat.

He frowned, the memory of his past negligence gnawing at him again. He had thought he already rechecked the ward that night, certain that no trace of the Blithe could linger within her personal chambers. But the truth pressed cold against his chest that something had persisted.

Had he overlooked? Had he been too careless? Or had it just happened recently?

He did not allow the questions to linger long. Thinking without actions will not solve anything. "Summon the priest and wardens," he ordered curtly to the nearest attendant.

It did not take long for them to return, their robes whispering against the marble as they entered the chamber. The scent of myrrh and sage filled the air once more as the warding circle was drawn. Levan stood watch throughout, silent but unwavering, his gaze tracking every motion and every symbol etched into the air.

He oversaw every part of it until he felt the faint ripple of energy shift and the pressure of the Blithe’s residue finally disperse. Only then did he allow himself to look away. Even so, he could not tell if it had truly vanished or merely retreated, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

He knew the nature of the corruption well enough by now. He had studied it, measured it, and calculated its behaviour for years. And yet lately, the recent subtle distortions had unsettled him, as if the phenomenon itself had begun to adapt, bending around the laws he once thought immutable.

By the time the ritual ended, the sun had climbed higher, casting soft rays through the lattice of the window. Almost afternoon, he realized. She had probably finished with her bath long ago, perhaps resting now. The thought tugged at him quietly, that weird mix of concern and relief clouding his mind again.

He straightened, brushing faint dust from his sleeve as his attention shifted to the matter at hand. One of the captains stationed at the northern wall had sent word that morning — something about an irregularity in the wardstones near the outer perimeter.

Normally, he would have delegated it to the overseers, but after what had happened these past days, he could not bring himself to ignore it. Levan turned toward the corridor, already running through what he needed to inspect first when a familiar figure fell into step beside him.

"Your Highness."

Leroy’s tone was cautious in sound if not in spirit. After all, the boy never could keep his curiosity buried for long. His eyes darted between the priests and wardens’ backs as they walk in the other direction, and the prince beside him, and then, inevitably, back again.

"Soooo..." He dragged the word, watching the priest for a beat longer before looking back at him, a brow raising in wonder. "Are they finally done purging ghosts out of the marble or should I fetch more incense?" He asked eagerly.

Levan gave him a flat look. "They’re sealing the remnants of corruption, not ghosts."

"Mm," Leroy hummed thoughtfully. "Still smells like ghosts."

The prince’s silence was unimpressed enough to make even him falter for half a heartbeat before Leroy grinned again, utterly unbothered. "Anyway, Your Highness, Captain Harken is waiting in the courtyard. Said something about the wardstones acting up. Oh, and..." His voice dropped conspiratorially. "Your brother’s there too."

Levan’s stride did not slow, but the faintest crease forming between his brows was palpable. A single beat of stillness passed before he exhaled through his nose.

"Of course he is," he said dryly.

Leroy’s grin widened like a man who had just lit a match near a powder keg, like he knows just the best solution for the prince’s incoming headache. "Should I prepare the medics in advance?"

"Leroy."

"What? I’m just saying, it’s the first prince. Every time you two meet, someone bleeds. And it’s not even physical!" He clasped his hands dramatically. "We could at least have a healer on standby, maybe a bucket of water too, in case the tension catches fire—"

That earned him a look. The kind that could silence an entire court if he wanted it to. Levan did not stop walking until Leroy made an exaggerated pout behind his back, trailing after him like a sulking cat.

"This is why people misunderstood you, my prince, your unwillingness to accept someone’s generosity," the boy muttered like he just got ignored by his favourite parent. "...I’m just trying to help."

Levan finally halted, turning his head just enough to glance at him, obviously irritated. But in that brief moment, a thought of someone else resurfaced in his mind. The wide eyes, the exaggerated expressions, the endless talking...

The resemblance was uncanny. His wife did the same thing when she wanted him to listen. Like that one back in The Ivory Study when he had no choice but to accompany her back to her chamber.

For a second, his eyes narrowed. Not from annoyance, but something closer to exasperated realization.

"Stop pouting," he said at last, his tone clipped but faintly weary. "You look ridiculous."

Leroy straightened instantly, though his grin returned a heartbeat later. "So that’s a yes on the medics, then?"

Levan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at his insistent nonsense. "Walk."

And so the boy did, whistling cheerfully beside a man visibly reconsidering his life choices. He supposed a little noise was not so unbearable after all.