AN: we're back with the daily updates now!
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The moment was broken by a sharp knock on the door.
Aiden jerked back from Elliott like he'd been caught, stumbling off the bed, smoothing down his clothes. His face was unreadable, except for the faint flush that betrayed him. Elliott, too, straightened, trying to fix his expression into something less drowsy, less vulnerable.
The door clicked open, and Gabriella walked in. Her eyes were sharp at first, scanning Elliott's bandaged hands, his wrapped wrists, his weary eyes. But then her expression softened. She crossed the room slowly, deliberately, and let her hand brush against the uninjured side of Elliott's cheek.
"How are you?" she asked, voice soft now.
"I'm fine," Elliott answered. He gave her a small smile, faint but steady. Gabriella nodded.
"Does it hurt?" she pressed. Despite her resolve to act sharp, to wear her strategist's face, a flicker of motherly concern slipped through.
"A little," Elliott said truthfully. He didn't bother trying to lie—she would know in an instant.
She nodded again, but her attention shifted. Her gaze flicked toward Aiden. "After you left, the temple was in chaos," she said, her tone sliding seamlessly back into the calm sharpness of a strategist. "Half the witnesses still call it a bad omen. The other half are already whispering sabotage."
Aiden exhaled sharply, scoffing. "Sabotage? What could even be sabotaged? The mirrors? The fucking sunbeam crown?"
Gabriella sighed, rubbing her temple. "Well. It's better than people believing Elliott is unworthy. Better than whispers that the heavens disgraced him."
Aiden's jaw clenched. He knew she hadn't meant offense—far from it. But still, the words cut. "He is not."
Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Do you think I don't know that? Neither explanation makes sense. But right now, the sabotage narrative is the one we need to push. Anything to drown out the talk of bad omens."
Aiden didn't argue. As ridiculous as sabotage sounded, it was still the lesser evil.
It was Elliott who spoke next, his voice quiet, strained. "Nobody else got hurt, right? From the shards... or the flames?"
Aiden's gaze flickered, pained. Even now—even now—Elliott was thinking about others. About the same people who whispered behind his back. Gabriella answered for him.
"No," she said. "No injuries. The shards seemed... concentrated. On you. And by extension, Aiden. None hit the onlookers."
Elliott nodded, relief softening his features. He hesitated, then asked again, "About what happened... what did the high priest say? After we left? He was trying to say something. About it not being a sign of disfavor."
Gabriella nodded. "Yes. After you left, he continued. He didn't have a concrete explanation, but he insisted it wasn't disfavor. The earlier rites went perfectly—he argued that alone proved the heavens hadn't withdrawn favor. His words convinced many. And from that came the only other narrative people would accept: sabotage. It's... believable enough to most."
"The high priest also believes it?" Aiden asked. His tone was flat, skeptical.
"Of course not." Gabriella exhaled sharply. "It's a direct attack on the temple's sanctity. Someone managing to sabotage the divine relics—relics that only appear during the ascension— and sabotage them so precisely it endangered the emperor's life? No. He denies it to death."
Aiden nodded. Of course. So the high priest and the temple weren't convinced Elliott was cursed, but neither did they believe sabotage. That meant there had to be... another reason.
"There was also something else," Gabriella said suddenly, remembering. "The eclipse. It set early. As soon as you left with Elliott. Forty minutes early."
Elliott's eyes widened. Aiden, however, dismissed it with a scoff. "Maybe they miscalculated."
Gabriella shook her head. "Not possible. The entire astrologers' council agreed on the timing. All of them, independently. All of them being off by forty minutes? That's more than unlikely. That's impossible."
Aiden looked like he wanted to argue again, to brush it off, but he didn't. He couldn't. Because all fifteen astrologers, all trained, all experienced, calculating the same thing and arriving at the same conclusion—and all of them being wrong, by nearly an hour—was impossible.
These were random fragments of information, scattered. But none of them could shake the feeling that it was all connected. Threads in a web none of them wanted to be part of, but one that was tightening around them, inch by inch.
Gabriella's eyes shifted again. She turned to Aiden, her voice lowering. "The temple aside... there's something else. Something you spoke of with me before. The shadow."
Aiden's shoulders tensed. His expression clearly said, You're saying this in front of Elliott. He'll worry.
Gabriella shrugged, brushing past it. "He deserves to know. All of this— it's connected. We need to be on the same page."
Aiden's jaw flexed. He wasn't thrilled, not at all. The obsessive part of him recoiled, wanting to shield Elliott from worry, wanting to keep him cocooned in silk and ignorance, at least while his body was still battered. But Elliott recognized the look instantly— he knew Aiden too well not to.
And instead of being offended, Elliott understood. He saw the intention behind Aiden's silence. The love in it, the suffocating sort. He knew it came from a good place. Still, he also knew he had to know.
He didn't say anything—just lifted his bandaged hand and placed it gently over Aiden's. A silent, steady reassurance: I'm okay. But I need to know.
The small interaction didn't escape Gabriella's gaze. Her lips curved—not into a smirk or a tease, but into something softer. A genuine smile. Because even through the heaviness in her chest, she couldn't deny the comfort she felt in seeing Aiden's devotion to her son. It reassured her that Elliott wasn't alone. That in a palace filled with vultures eager to tear him apart for their own gain— at least one person would chain himself to Elliott's side, body and soul, to keep him safe.