The chatter of preparations for Nicasia Night still clung to the grove. Ribbons of silver fabric hung from branches, and students practiced steps of the ritual dance in clusters, their laughter tumbling through the air. Aria trailed behind Sira and her friends, her eyes catching on every detail—the shimmer of beads sewn into gowns, the flicker of torches already being tested for the night, the way even the air seemed charged with anticipation.
But her steps slowed when her gaze drifted toward the far side of the clearing.
There, beneath one of the vast glowing roots of the Tree of Life, sat Xyren.
He leaned against the bark as if he had grown from it, silent and utterly still. Two boys hovered near him—one pale-haired, his expression unreadable, the other broader, his arms crossed with a kind of guarded defiance. They spoke occasionally, their voices low, but Xyren didn't answer. His head tilted slightly toward the ground, his eyes tracing the veins of light that pulsed faintly through the root at his back.
Aria's chest tightened. She didn't know why she noticed him so sharply, why her stomach knotted when she saw how apart he looked from the others. The students around them buzzed like a hive—laughing, gossiping, moving—but Xyren might as well have been carved from stone.
She slowed enough for Sira to notice.
"What is it?" Sira asked, brushing a strand of black hair from her face.
"That boy," Aria said, nodding discreetly. "The one by the roots."
Sira followed her gaze, and her smile faltered. She exchanged a glance with her friends before leaning closer. "You mean Xyren."
"Yes, I know his name," Aria said quickly. "But who is he?"
Leira, the sharp-eyed one, smirked. "Haven't they told you? He's no ordinary student."
Miren, softer in voice, added, "He's a prince."
Aria blinked. "A prince?"
Sira nodded slowly. "Prince Xyren Almoth. Third son of King Julian."
The words struck like a sudden gust of cold wind. Aria stared at the silent boy again, trying to fit the title onto him. A prince. Not a prisoner. Not just another Quartie face in the crowd. Royal blood.
"But—" she hesitated, her voice low. "If he's a prince, why does he… why does he sit like that? Alone?"
Leira let out a dry laugh. "Because his father barely acknowledges him."
Miren elbowed her sharply, but the words were already out.
Sira sighed. "It's true. His bond with the king is… distant. He is not the favored child."
"And his mother," Miren whispered, glancing at the tree as though it might overhear. "His mother was swallowed by the roots."
Aria froze. "Swallowed?"
The girls leaned closer, their voices dropping.
"She walked into the tree during a storm," Leira said matter-of-factly. "The sky was full of lightning, and the branches were burning with light. She stepped inside the roots and never came back."
"Some say it was punishment," Miren added quickly. "That she defied the king in some way."
"Others claim the tree chose her as sacrifice," Sira murmured, almost unwilling to repeat the rumor.
Aria's throat tightened. The idea of that glowing bark opening to take a living woman was unbearable. She looked again at Xyren, her chest aching unexpectedly.
"And he was just a child when it happened," Miren whispered. "Too young to understand, too old to forget."
Aria wrapped her arms around herself. "And no one… no one helped him?"
Silence stretched before Sira answered softly. "Lirien did."
Aria's head snapped toward her. "Lirien?"
"Yes. After his mother's disappearance, it was Lirien who kept him close. Taught him, guided him."
Leira snorted. "Or chained him."
Aria frowned. "Chained?"
The girl's smirk sharpened. "You've seen how he obeys, haven't you? How he never protests, never resists? That's not devotion, that's an oath."
Sira shot her a warning look, but Aria leaned forward. "An oath?"
"Some say he swore loyalty to Lirien," Leira went on, her voice pitched low with excitement. "Others whisper it was survival—Lirien was the only one who cared for him when the king turned away. Whatever the truth, the oath binds him. He cannot refuse Lirien. Not in word, not in action."
Aria's stomach twisted. She remembered the way Xyren had stood silent in the council, the way he bore Lirien's commands without flinching. She had thought it strange pride or stubbornness. But chains—invisible chains—that was different.
Her gaze returned to him, and her breath caught at the sight of his face in profile. The set of his jaw was strong, but there was no arrogance. Only quiet endurance.
"Does he never fight back?" she asked softly.
"Not once," Miren whispered. "At least, not that anyone has seen."
Leira leaned close, her grin fading to seriousness. "Be careful, Aria. A prince bound by silence is still a prince. And silence hides sharper blades than words."
Aria swallowed hard. The voices of students swelled around them, laughter rising, a song breaking out somewhere by the fountain. But her world had narrowed to the boy beneath the tree.
A prince. A prisoner. A shadow.
And for reasons she could not explain, she could not look away.