Auther sat on the edge of the bed with his shirt open while the healer prodded the faint scar on his neck, sunlight slanting across the room too bright for how fragile he still felt, and when the man finally bowed and left Viola stayed exactly where she was, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, watching the door close as if she expected the healer to turn back into a threat the moment he thought she wasn't looking.
Silence settled, thick and warm from the herbs still hanging in the air, and Auther rubbed the spot on his neck absently before the words slipped out quiet and honest, "I almost died," he said, the confession heavier than he expected because it hadn't come from battle or magic or any mistake he could fight, just a butler, a smile, a single second where nothing felt wrong until everything was.
Viola's jaw tightened as she looked away, not from him but from the memory of how close it had come, and she answered without turning, "You trusted too easily," the words soft but carrying the weight of someone who had spent her life learning exactly how dangerous trust could be.
Auther met her eyes anyway, breath shallow now, "I don't want to be untouchable," he said, "I just don't want to die because I trusted the wrong silence," and the room felt smaller the moment he finished, like the sentence had pulled them both closer without either of them moving.
Viola pushed off the wall then, crossing the space with her long strides until she stood right in front of him, tall enough that he had to tilt his head up to hold her gaze, and she spoke almost to herself while staring past him instead of at him, "One day you won't need my blade anymore, and I don't know who I am then," the confession slipping out before she could cage it, raw and unguarded in a way that made her immediately regret saying it aloud.
Auther reached for her hand slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, and when she didn't he brushed his thumb across her knuckles, voice light like it wasn't a confession at all and didn't matter at all, "You're beautiful when you worry."
Viola's eyes narrowed but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, dangerous and reluctant, "Say that again and I'll throw you off the balcony," she warned, though the threat came out softer than she meant, almost fond.
He grinned, small and real, "Promise?"
For one heartbeat the air thinned between them, charged and almost intimate, her fingers tightening around his, his pulse jumping under her thumb, and neither of them moved to close the last inch or to step back, letting the moment stretch until it hurt in the sweetest way.
Then she released him, stepping away with a quiet exhale, "Get dressed. Training yard. Now."
She turned for the door but paused at the threshold, voice low enough that only he would hear it, "And Auther… I'm still faster than you."
The door closed softly behind her.
He sat there a moment longer, heart pounding harder than any poison ever had, already missing the warmth of her hand.
Word of the antidote spread faster than the poison itself, and by midday the alchemy wing buzzed with it, the pink-haired apprentice had saved the prince alone without Neon Gold, and Lana kept her head down while she cleaned glassware, pretending not to hear the whispers that followed her every step.
Neon Gold heard everything.
He found her in the storeroom stacking vials, his smile thin and venomous, and he said in that silk-over-steel voice he used when he wanted someone to feel small, "Talent without obedience is just a liability."
His hand rose out of habit, the same slap he had delivered a hundred times before, but Lana caught his wrist mid-air, fingers locking before she even had time to think, and the room went silent around them as if the world itself had noticed.
Neon's eyes widened—shock first, then fury—because no one touched him, no one stopped him, but Lana's grip stayed steady and her voice came out quiet, almost tired, "I'm tired."
She released him.
Neon flexed his fingers, smile returning colder than before, and he told her without raising his voice, "You're done here. Pack your things."
No shouting. No scene.
Just dismissal.
By evening Lana stood outside the wing with a single satchel containing everything she owned, no master, no lab, no protection, and the corridor felt longer than it ever had while she walked it alone with her head high and her cheeks burning.
Later, in an empty storage room she had claimed as temporary shelter, she sat on a crate and stared at her hands, whispering to the dark, "I didn't break the rules. I just forgot who owned her."
Lana found the training yard by following the sound of steel on steel, and she had come to thank Auther properly this time and maybe warn him about the things she had overheard, but Auther wasn't alone.
Viola was driving him back across the sand with relentless precision, rapier flashing while he parried desperately, sweat flying, though she was always a step ahead—taller, faster, merciless—and when the bout ended with her blade at his throat he laughed breathless and she lowered the rapier, but her eyes flicked to Lana immediately, sharp and assessing.
Auther noticed and grinned, "Lana! Perfect timing—"
Viola cut in, voice cool, "Give us a moment."
Auther raised a brow but obeyed, heading for water, and Viola turned to Lana without circling because she didn't need to, her height and presence doing the work already.
"Why do you care about him?" she asked, direct.
Lana met her gaze unflinching, "I don't. I respect him. There's a difference."
Viola's eyes narrowed, "He trusts you."
"He should trust someone," Lana said quietly, "not everyone wants something from him."
The words landed harder than intended, and Viola's jaw tightened while something raw and uncertain flickered across her face for just a moment, jealousy yes but not of Lana, of what Lana represented—something uncomplicated, something Auther might one day choose over the storm that was Viola.
Lana adjusted her satchel, "I'm not here to compete for people. I decide my place."
She turned to leave.
Viola's voice stopped her, low and almost reluctant, "He's… important."
Lana looked back, "I know."
She walked away.
Viola watched her go, rapier loose in her hand.
Auther returned wiping sweat from his brow, "Everything okay?"
Viola sheathed her blade, "Fine."
She didn't look at him when she said it.
But her grip on the hilt was tighter than before.