Given stood leaning against the pillar , his eyes fixed on Leroy , who sat alone , his shoulders heavy with unseen burdens . Leroy seemed lost in a storm of his own thoughts, unaware of the gaze fixed on him from across the space
Given's hands twitched instinctively when he felt the familiar presence approaching.
"Don't worry , I come in peace ," His father said , his tone casual but laced with a familiar weight as he stopped beside him .
Given's jaw tightened as he turned his head slightly, his fists clenching to still the trembling in his hands. He refused to look at the man fully ."Don't you always," he retorted , his voice carrying an edge sharp enough to cut.
Lord Cade let out a quiet chuckle ,shaking his head,though it was hard to tell if it was in amusement or resignation. His hands rested on the railing, scarred and weathered from years of battle , both magical and personal. Given's eyes betrayed him as they darted toward those hands, his stomach twisting at the sight of the fresh cuts and bruises.
"Why don't you heal them ," Given muttered , his voice quieter now , almost bitter .
Cade glanced at him, then followed his son's gaze to his own hands. A faint, emotionless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "We mages do not heal ourselves, Given. I thought you'd learned that by now."
"I was hoping you'd be changed by now" Given said, leaning away from the pillar as if distancing himself from the man. He straightened, his dark eyes hard. "But clearly, you're the same. And since you're here with the same tired 'quest' as always, I don't need to stick around to hear it again."
He turned sharply , his boots echoing against the marble floor, but Cade's next words froze him mid-step.
---
The memory played on repeat in his mind as Given walked briskly down the dimly lit corridor toward Lyric's chambers. His father's words still echoed in his ears, each syllable digging under his skin like a splinter.
'Every day ! Every single fcken' day!' Given thought bitterly, his fists clenching at his sides. He never changes. The same questions, the same expectations, and now… now he's struck where it hurts.
Unable to contain his frustration, he slammed his fist against the wall beside him, the impact jarring through his arm as his head bowed forward. His chest heaved, his breath escaping in ragged bursts. His mind churned with possibilities, every potential outcome of his father's latest revelation.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down. With deliberate effort, he adjusted his attire and straightened, ignoring the ache in his still-recovering body. He strode forward, determined to push everything else aside for the moment.
The door to Lyric's chambers creaked softly as he pushed it open.
Lyric, lying still on the bed, turned her head weakly toward the sound. Her tired eyes landed on him, recognition flashing before she quickly looked away, her lids fluttering closed. Her guilt was as palpable as the tension in the air, and it gnawed at her even as she tried to shield herself.
Given's footsteps were slow and deliberate as he crossed the room. Her breath hitched at the sound, and a tear slipped down from the corner of her right eye, landing softly on the pillow beneath her.
He reached her side and sank onto the stool beside her bed. He sat in silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily between them as he stared at her with a mixture of exhaustion and resolve.
"I know you aren't asleep, Lyric," Given said, his voice low but firm. "Your breaths are shallow and fast. Your nose is moving, and your lashes are fluttering." He sighed, the sound heavy with weariness. "Open your eyes. We need to talk."
Lyric hesitated but finally opened her eyes. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him. Her heart sank as she took in the sight of him. Given sat slouched in the chair like a man who had been through too many battles. His light green eyes were half-closed, and his arm hung limply at his side. If she didn't know better, she would've thought he was injured or worse.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, breaking the silence.
The words seemed to spark something in him. His eyes opened fully, meeting hers. The guilt and pain in her gaze were unmistakable, and for a moment, they stared at each other in shared torment.
"I truly am," she added, her voice raspy and weak. She coughed, the effort painful, and lifted a trembling hand to cover her mouth. Before she could hide it, a dark crimson stain bloomed on her palm.
Given shot up from his seat, his exhaustion forgotten. He grabbed the handkerchief and a glass of water from the side table and rushed to her side.
"No," Lyric protested weakly, turning her head away from the glass he held to her lips. "That's not water. It's bitter."
"Aren't you supposed to drink it?" His voice was gentle now, almost coaxing, and for a fleeting moment, she felt a sliver of comfort. But the bitter taste of the medicine and what she had done loomed, and she shook her head.
He didn't relent, though, his gaze sharp and knowing. She had seen that look too many times before—it was the look of someone who saw through every lie, every hesitation. With no strength left to argue, she gave in, grimacing as the bitter liquid touched her tongue.
The medicine, a concoction crafted by Mage Cade, wasn't a cure. Nothing could truly heal a wound as grave as the one she bore—a sword through her stomach. But it was meant to slow the blood loss, bolster her strength, and keep her alive long enough for the Queen of Lunareth to perform the full healing.
Given sat back down, and as he did, Lyric's eyes caught something she hadn't noticed before. He was hurt.
"You're hurt," she murmured, her voice trembling.
Given raised a hand, silencing her before she could say more. "Stop. Let's focus on the matter at hand."
His eyes flicked toward her stomach, though the blanket draped over her hid the damage from view. Lyric was grateful for that. She didn't want him to see what had been done to her.
"Are you pregnant?" he asked abruptly, his voice quiet but steady."By me?" he added, finally turning to face her. His piercing gaze cut through her, and the weight of it made her heart sink.
"No," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I lied. I'm sorry."
Her voice cracked, the tears spilling over. If she had the strength, she would've lowered her head in shame. "I lied, and now look where it's gotten us. They just needed Evelyn to snap, and when she did, they used her to their advantage. I don't understand how a father could do that to his own children." Her voice broke again, but she pressed on. "But… this isn't about us. I'm sorry for ruining your life, the Queen's life, and everyone's in the kingdom. I truly am."