As the group advanced, Astor couldn't stop reflecting on Selene's words. She had been sincere in her rejection of Edmund, but the second reason—the one she had chosen to keep to herself—unsettled him, though he had his suspicions.
Selene still saw him as an enigma, someone "too clumsy" to be real. While his performance had worked to some extent, she didn't seem entirely convinced. That worried him but also intrigued him. Selene wasn't someone easy to deceive, and he knew he would have to be even more cautious moving forward.
Finally, night fell softly over the group, as the sky deepened to a rich blue. The night breeze carried the fresh scent of pine, and the sound of insects filled the air as the soldiers dismounted to set up camp. The process was quick and efficient, a result of years of experience in similar situations.
Within minutes, the tents were being erected, and a crackling campfire illuminated the improvised campsite. The smoke mingled with the cool night air, carrying the tempting aroma of food being prepared. Astor, however, stayed on the sidelines, feigning nervousness as he fumbled with his own tent.
Selene's men seemed ready to intervene, watching his clumsiness, but she stopped them with a firm gesture.
"Leave him," she ordered, her voice steady as she observed the scene intently. "I want to see what he does."
Astor continued his act. Each time it seemed he was making progress, he made a deliberate mistake: placing the poles in the wrong direction, dropping the ropes, or pulling them too tight, causing the whole structure to collapse. After several failed attempts, he let his arms fall with an apparent sigh of resignation.
Finally, he sat on the ground, deciding to spend the night outdoors, leaning against a tree. The scene fit perfectly into the image of a useless and helpless young man.
Selene understood that Astor might be less favored than Edmund, but the soldiers' treatment of him surprised her. They were supposed to be loyal to the Valenford family, and Astor was still a Valenford, useless or not. She felt something strange about that family dynamic.
Soon, the food was ready, and while the others gathered around the fire to eat, Astor stayed apart, silently observing. The contrast between Selene and Edmund was impossible to ignore.
Selene, though she was the undisputed leader of the group, didn't act as if she were above her men. She shared her meal with them, spoke casually, and even laughed at the occasional joke. Although she lacked the typical manners of a noble, it was evident that her relationship with her soldiers was built on mutual respect and camaraderie.
Edmund, on the other hand, maintained a rigid and authoritarian posture. He ate apart from the others, allowing only his closest guards to approach him, and his conversations were more commands than genuine exchanges. For him, hierarchy was something that had to be constantly reinforced.
Astor took note of it all as he ate quietly, maintaining his docile expression. He had learned to observe people from a safe distance, analyzing their behaviors and looking for weaknesses. He knew Selene's bond with her men was a strength, but also something he could use if the time came.
When Edmund finished his meal, he stood and approached Astor, flanked by two of his guards. His expression was stern, and the tension in his movements betrayed the pent-up rage he had been holding back all day.
"Astor," he said in an authoritative tone, not bothering to hide his contempt. "Come with me."
Astor raised his head slowly, feigning uncertainty.
"What is it, brother?" he asked timidly, though he already knew what was coming.
"Just follow me," Edmund ordered, his words leaving no room for refusal.
Astor had no choice. He knew Edmund was looking for any excuse to vent his frustration, and refusing would only make it worse. Slowly, he stood and walked behind him, flanked by the two guards.
They ventured into the forest, far enough that the camp was out of sight. When Edmund stopped, he turned sharply, his fury barely contained.
"Who do you think you are?" Edmund spat, stepping toward Astor. "Do you think I don't see what's happening? Do you think you can humiliate me in front of Selene? Didn't you hear mother? Selene is mine."
"I didn't—" Astor began, but he didn't get to finish the sentence.
The first punch came fast, landing directly in his stomach. Astor doubled over, struggling to catch his breath. The next blows struck his torso, ribs, and back, each one harder than the last. Edmund, careful not to leave visible marks, avoided hitting his face, but the force of the punches was enough to send Astor to his knees.
"You're a waste, a useless fool," Edmund snarled, his voice dripping with hatred as he continued the assault. "I don't know why mother let you come, but I swear you'll regret being here."
Astor spat blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth. It had been a while since he'd taken a beating like this, but it wasn't new to him. In his youth, Edmund had regularly used him as a punching bag, venting his frustrations on his "weak" younger brother.
Finally, when Astor could no longer stand, Edmund stopped. He wiped his hands with disdain and turned to the guards.
"Let's go," he ordered, leaving Astor lying on the ground.
Astor remained on the forest floor, unable to move from the pain. He didn't bother returning to the camp; he knew he couldn't stand without staggering, and any attempt to do so would only fuel more mockery.
The dark sky and the pine branches were his only companions until the sound of a twig snapping broke the silence. Astor turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing from the pain.
Selene emerged from the shadows, her tall and stoic figure illuminated by the moonlight.
"That was... pathetic," she said, her tone showing neither surprise nor indifference.
Astor didn't respond immediately. He wasn't sure if he should act as though he didn't understand what she meant or admit that she had seen everything. Finally, he simply lowered his gaze, feigning shame.
"It's nothing new," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I'm used to it."
Selene crossed her arms, watching him in silence for a long moment. Her gray eyes seemed to analyze every inch of him, as though searching for something beyond the visible injuries.
"Why do you put up with it?" she asked finally, her tone softer but laced with curiosity.
Astor gave a faint, bitter smile, barely lifting his head.
"What else can I do?" he replied, a hint of resignation in his voice. "It's how it's always been."
Selene said nothing more. She simply stepped closer and offered him a hand, helping him up with a firm yet careful motion. The strength in her grip contrasted with the gentleness with which she avoided causing him further pain. When Astor managed to stand, swaying slightly, Selene didn't let go of his hand immediately.
"Astor," she said quietly, her tone unusually soft.
Astor looked up, meeting Selene's gray eyes as they bore into him. There was something in her expression that unsettled him—a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn't identify. Selene was standing too close, and for a moment, Astor didn't know how to look away.
The silence between them stretched, the air growing heavier. Finally, Selene spoke.
"You have lovely eyes," she murmured, her voice neutral but charged with an intent Astor couldn't decipher.
Before he could respond, Selene turned and began walking toward the camp.
"Come," she said without looking back. "It's time to return."
Astor followed Selene with difficulty, each step sending sharp pain through his body. When they reached the camp, the soldiers' eyes turned to him immediately.
Astor's condition wasn't hard to interpret. His hunched posture, the dirt stains on his clothes, and his pale face told a story no one needed to hear aloud. No one said a word, but the murmurs among the soldiers were inevitable.
Edmund, seated by the fire, barely glanced up when he saw Astor return. His expression showed no trace of remorse; instead, a slight smile of satisfaction played on his lips. To him, this was merely a reminder of his dominant position.
However, Selene didn't let the opportunity pass. With determined steps, she approached Edmund, who watched her with his usual arrogance.
"Lord Edmund," Selene said, her tone cold and direct. "I don't care what happens between you and your brother. Your lives don't interest me."
Edmund raised an eyebrow, surprised by the lack of moral judgment in her words. But before he could respond, Selene continued:
"But let me be clear." Her voice hardened, and her gaze bore into Edmund. "Don't do anything that causes delays. We still have many days of travel ahead, and I don't have time to waste on the squabbles of children."
Edmund's face visibly tensed. The way Selene dismissed him without even raising her voice was a direct blow to his ego. He wasn't used to being treated with such indifference, especially not by someone like Selene, whom he was trying to win over.
"Is that all?" Edmund replied with a crooked smile, though there was a dangerous edge to his voice.
"That's all," Selene responded with the same unyielding calm, turning to return to her place among the soldiers.
Before Selene could walk away, Edmund stood, blocking her path. The fire cast his elongated shadow, making him seem even more imposing.
"I have a warning for you as well, Lady Selene," he said, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
Selene looked at him impassively, waiting in silence.
"The next time you lay a hand on Astor," Edmund continued, his tone dripping with menace, "the only one who will suffer will be him. If you don't want delays, keep your distance from that trash I have for a brother."
Selene didn't react immediately. Her gray eyes remained fixed on Edmund for a moment, but there was no trace of fear or anger in her expression. She simply looked at him as if he were insignificant—a minor obstacle in her path.
Finally, Selene averted her gaze, walking around him without a word. Her silence spoke louder than any verbal response, a reminder that she wouldn't stoop to unnecessary confrontation.
Edmund clenched his fists but didn't stop her. He knew that confronting Selene openly would be a mistake. However, his gaze remained dark and filled with resentment.