After meeting Queen Eliza, Aster was brought to Nikolai without delay.
No ceremony this time. No audience. Just a quiet chamber where the air felt heavier than the throne room ever had.
Nikolai was already there.
He turned slowly when Aster entered.
For a moment, he said nothing.
His gaze traced the changes with deliberate precision. The clean lines of white fabric. The satin that caught the light instead of dust. The black emerald brooch resting at his chest like a mark, not an ornament.
Clean.
Prim.
Presentable.
And yet.
Beneath it all, Nikolai could still see it. The roughness that refused to be polished away. The tension in Aster's shoulders, like someone who expected the world to strike first. The way his eyes watched corners and exits instead of decor. Rebel blood, barely contained beneath silk.
"Hm. I'm surprised how easily Mother approved of you," Nikolai said, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
Aster shrugged, tilting his head just slightly. "Well, after hearing about all your previous almost-somethings, I figured approval was the least of your problems." His lips curved. "You do seem to have a talent for driving people off."
Nikolai let out a quiet breath of a laugh. Not offended. If anything, intrigued.
The room went quiet.
Aster broke it.
"Why?"
Nikolai glanced at him. "Pardon?" One brow lifted, faintly amused.
"Why me?" Aster said flatly. "Out of everyone you could've dragged in here." He gestured lazily. "Is it because your famous pheromones don't work on me? Because I didn't melt into a puddle like the rest?"
Nikolai said nothing at first.
He simply watched Aster, eyes narrowing just slightly, as if recalculating something that no longer fit the equation.
"Most people react," Nikolai said eventually. "Instinct does the talking for them."
"Yeah, well," Aster shrugged, "guess mine's broken. You should file a complaint."
Nikolai stepped closer. The pressure in the air thickened, deliberate, oppressive.
Aster didn't move.
He tilted his head instead. "That it?" he asked. "Because I'm still standing."
A flicker of something passed through Nikolai's gaze. Interest, sharpened.
"I don't like people who cower," Nikolai said.
"Good," Aster replied. "I don't like people who rely on biology to feel important."
That earned a pause.
Nikolai's mouth curved, slow and thin. "Bold."
"Unimpressed," Aster corrected. "There's a difference."
Nikolai circled him once, boots quiet against the floor. He said nothing, but his eyes lingered, measuring, dissecting.
"So let me guess," Aster went on, folding his arms. "You picked me because I don't react the way you want. Because I'm inconvenient."
Nikolai stopped in front of him. "Because you don't break."
Aster scoffed. "Trust me. Everyone does. Some just take longer."
Nikolai leaned in slightly. Not threatening. Not gentle. Just close enough to remind Aster who controlled the room.
"Careful," he said. "You're testing patience."
Aster met his gaze, smirk intact. "And you're testing whether titles impress me. Spoiler. They don't."
Silence stretched.
Then Aster added, sharp and final, "You sadist."
Nikolai didn't deny it.
He just smiled
.....
You scumbag! How could you leave Aster behind?" Catherine pleaded.
"They'll kill him!"
"This wasn't part of the plan," she shouted. "You said this was our final deal. You said we'd escape with him."
She grabbed the Mad Dog by the collar and slammed him back with her strength. Her pheromones grew stronger, thick and intimidating, flooding the air.
She can still see the shocked face of Aster after he was thrown off the carriage , the sweet eyes of princess Elodie when she trusted her with her secret .
"You made me betray my friends, you monster!" Catherine screamed, slamming the Mad Dog against the wall with all her strength.
His men rushed in, restraining her. They struck and shoved her, leaving bruises that burned with every heartbeat, then left her broken on the ground.
Later, her uncle found her and carefully patched her up in his shop, tending to her wounds as silence hung heavy in the air.
When Catherine blinked, the world came back in muted colors. She was lying on a narrow cot, her arms wrapped in crisp bandages, the faint sting of ointment still clinging to her skin. The dim light of the patch-up shop cast long shadows across the walls, and in the corner, Eloise stood, her face pale and tight with worry.
Before Eloise could speak, Catherine's chest heaved, and the dam she'd been holding broke. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she buried her face in her hands, trembling.
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed, her voice raw and broken, echoing off the walls.
Eloise's eyes softened, and she stepped closer, resting a gentle hand on Catherine's shoulder, as if to anchor her in the world again.
Catherine's voice trembled as she explained everything that had happened, her hands shaking despite the bandages. Eloise's eyes widened, her face paling, lips parting in horror.
"What will happen to Aster now?" she whispered, voice tight. "Is he hurt? Tortured? Is he even okay?"
Beneath it all, Catherine knew the answer. He still trusted his brother. He still clung to the promise they had made that he would always come back.
Meanwhile, somewhere not so far from danger, Aster's patience was being tested in the cruelest way imaginable.
"This is torture!" Aster shouted, throwing his hands up. "How am I supposed to memorize when to use these spoons, forks, and knives each in some magical, different size? If I could, I would just eat with my hands!"
The instructor's cane cracked against the table as Aster fumbled again.
"Wrong! You use this spoon!" the instructor barked, plucking the tiny soup spoon from the set. "Now, how would you eat this?"
Aster grimaced, spooning the lukewarm soup into his mouth with exaggerated precision. Another sharp smack on the back of his hand made him yelp.
"You are supposed to bring the soup toward you. If you do not, a spill might happen!"
"Ughhh!" Aster groaned, throwing his arms wide. "Somebody! Get me out of here! I am being tortured with cutlery!"
Even as he yelled, a smirk crept across his face, the sarcasm masking the frustration. Every mistake, every spank, only seemed to fuel his chaotic, mischievous energy.