Lord Kaelen Thorne, after the ignominious incident within the Obsidian Vaults, had shed any pretense of courtesy. His animosity toward me became a visible brand, an open, cold disdain. Simultaneously, the polished veneer he once presented to his family, a facade of dutiful expectation, fractured completely.
Rhys Silvanus now occupied the privileged seat beside Kaelen, a constant, silent testament to my displacement.
I prided myself on a certain guardedness, a capacity for dissembling my true sentiments. Yet, I possessed no talent for brazen ignorance, for feigning indifference while the weight of my altered standing pressed down. To appear a pathetic, cowering thing was unthinkable. But the courage to approach Kaelen, to converse as if nothing had changed, eluded me entirely.
A melancholic current began to pull at my days, laced with a dull ennui. Occasionally, a spark of petty vengeance would ignite within me, quickly smothered by the necessity of endurance.
Kaelen, that volatile lordling, now seethed with an almost childish envy and resentment directed solely at me. The source was clear, stark as a winter tree against the sky: Rhys Silvanus.
My loathing for Rhys deepened with each passing day. He was never mine to claim, yet not content with merely capturing Kaelen’s attention, he had seemingly poisoned Kaelen’s very perception of me. A vicious schemer, I often thought.
Whether his actions were intentional mattered little. Emotions, I knew, often defied logic. To cast blame upon Rhys was, in part, a desperate means of finding a scapegoat, a way to navigate this increasingly unbearable reality.
My intellect, however, demanded rational choices. I understood, with an unwelcome clarity, that Rhys was likely little more than a pawn, swept along by Kaelen’s mercurial whims. This awareness prevented any outward display of animosity towards him.
Partially, this restraint stemmed from an acute embarrassment, a visceral refusal to expose the raw nerve of my jealousy. And partly, it was the chilling certainty that any outburst against Rhys would only paint me as a fool. Such a spectacle would undoubtedly cement Kaelen’s disdain and invite the damning whispers of ‘degenerate’ from the other noble youths.
“This… is insufferable.”
The words were barely a breath, choked off by the knot of disgust tightening in my chest. I loathed this situation. I loathed it more than Kaelen’s hatred. I wished for a cessation of it all.
Then, for reasons I could not immediately articulate, Lord Veridian’s blunt visage came to mind. Perhaps it was simply his recent, irritating proximity. If he were to discover the true nature of my innermost thoughts, what would he say? His voice, in my imagination, held a cruel lilt: ‘So Elian is naught but a tainted deviant, after all?’
The image of Veridian’s eyes, alight with disdain, made my hands clench into tight fists. The horror of it was almost physical, a wave of nausea. I would sooner cease breathing than allow such a secret to become public knowledge.
Noble associations, I found, were often as shallow as a spring puddle. As soon as Kaelen and I were demonstrably estranged, my standing with his former coterie naturally suffered. Amusingly, Seraphin, a quiet aide often relegated to the periphery of Veridian’s more boisterous circle, had initiated a strangely pointless conversation just yesterday.
“Elian. Lord Veridian sought your presence earlier.”
“Indeed? For what purpose?”
“Unknown. He simply requested you.”
Such exchanges were always thus—lacking clear purpose, drifting on an aimless tide. It had become apparent that my social position had shifted. People now perceived me as an associate of Lord Veridian’s faction rather than Kaelen’s.
However, the ties to Kaelen’s former companions were not entirely severed. Occasionally, during the drills in the training yard or by chance in the morning, polite greetings would be exchanged. Though this was primarily limited to Torvin Blackwood, a minor noble.
“Elian. A good morning to you.”
“...And to you, Torvin.”
I recalled one particularly awkward encounter, when Torvin had murmured something beneath his breath.
‘Kaelen has been most peculiar lately. His manner with Rhys… is it not rather unsettling?’
My expression must have betrayed my unpleasant thoughts, for he seemed to interpret it as agreement. He continued, detailing Kaelen’s possessive insistence that Rhys remain by his side, his arm often seized, an unwavering grip.
I gritted my teeth, my fists tightening at my sides, before offering a cool response.
‘That particular aspect holds no interest for me.’
The words cut him short, stifling his confidences immediately.
Lately, Torvin Blackwood had been observed attempting to ingratiate himself with Veridian’s associates. He seemed to be a man quietly seeking an exit from Kaelen’s lengthening shadow. Perhaps his overtures to me were merely a calculated maneuver to secure closer ties.
Today, as was often the case, only Lord Veridian and I remained within the private study alcove, apart from the other scholars.
Leaning against the chamber’s paneled wall, Veridian gazed down at me. Whether his intent was dismissal or assessment, I could not discern. Annoyed, I averted my gaze, electing to ignore him in kind.
“Elian.”
“My lord?”
“Let us acquire some of that sugared ginger confection after our lessons. The batch from last week possessed a rather agreeable piquancy.”
Veridian disregarded my attempt to ignore him. As he spoke, he idly tossed a polished malachite orb across the chamber. The sphere bounced erratically, threatening to strike a nearby tome or a servant, yet no one dared to voice a protest.
He possessed an utter disregard for the prevailing atmosphere. Indifferent, profoundly selfish. I watched the orb’s erratic path with a frown, finally breaking my silence. My irritation at his blatant disregard sharpened my tone.
“You refer to the confection you consumed entirely yourself? Did you not purchase it solely for your own enjoyment, my lord?”
“Hardly. I simply preferred the green variety.”
“So my preference was not considered in the slightest?”
“How was I to divine your wishes? You offered no counsel.”
The malachite orb, by then, had rolled to rest near a young acolyte. Veridian extended a hand, a silent command for its return. The acolyte, after a moment’s hesitation, awkwardly retrieved the orb and placed it into Veridian’s open palm. Veridian casually spun the orb, addressing the retreating figure.
“My thanks, lackey.”
Such an abrasive temperament.
‘Lackey this, drudge that.’ Every utterance from his lips grated on my nerves.
In truth, it defied all reason that someone as openly obnoxious as Lord Veridian now sought my company over Kaelen’s. He dined with me, sat with me during lectures, attended assemblies with me. Certainly, Kaelen was often absent, yet Veridian could easily dispatch a missive or arrange a meeting if he desired.
The thought struck me with sudden force, and I posed the question without much forethought.
“Why do you not frequent Lord Kaelen’s company these days?”
Veridian, in the midst of idly tossing the malachite orb against the wall, froze. He then turned to me, his expression momentarily puzzled.
“You quarrelled with him,” he stated.
“I?”
“Indeed. You and Kaelen Thorne.”
“I am aware. It was I who had the quarrel. How does that pertain to your current associations, my lord?”
“You articulate the strangest things, Elian. It pertains because you are my associate.”
Veridian subjected me to an oddly blatant scrutiny. Feeling a prickle of unease, I avoided his gaze and countered.
“You were an associate of Lord Kaelen’s, also.”
“Remarkable. You are truly amusing. Are you suggesting you are not my associate, then?”
His tone was now incredulous as he pointed a finger at me.
“No, I am your associate. However, you were equally allied with Kaelen Thorne. Why then do you align with my current standing?”
“Because I have known you for a longer span.”
“What nonsense do you utter? We became acquainted through Kaelen Thorne, did we not?”
“Elian. What are these pronouncements? We were familiar in our first term!”
“When was this?”
“Truly, you are a difficult man. Astounding. In the refectory, we exchanged glances with marked frequency!”
“Ah… that particular period.”
“So, was I the sole individual who perceived us as associates? You charlatan. That is precisely why, upon finding ourselves in the same curriculum, I sought you out first! And you do not even acknowledge this? Unbelievable. I confess, I am disappointed.”
“Oh.”
“Astounding. Simply… astounding. How could you inflict such an oversight upon me?”
“Forgive me, my lord. I offer my apologies, truly.”
I mumbled a hasty apology, recalling those awkward, yet undeniably frequent, encounters from our first term. So that fell within his definition of ‘association.’ I felt somewhat defrauded. How could anyone interpret those wary stares as anything other than veiled hostility? Wait, did this imply that the initial suggestion for shared meals came not from Kaelen, but… from him?
The realization struck me with the force of a hurled stone, leaving me momentarily stunned. It was unsettling, even shocking. Still, unwilling to become further entangled in this peculiar history, I feigned comprehension and offered a nod.
“Alright, alright. I understand. My apologies.”
“I was genuinely quite vexed just now.”
Veridian’s glare lingered for a brief moment. At times, the workings of his mind remained utterly opaque to me.
“And furthermore, Kaelen Thorne is behaving most strangely.”
“...”
“That man is utterly unhinged at present. He has always possessed a certain eccentricity, but this? This is merely… well, it is beyond reason.”
He clutched the malachite orb with four fingers, idly spinning it about his temple with his index finger. The sight brought to mind Torvin Blackwood and the other minor nobles who had awkwardly attempted to converse with me about Kaelen.
From that alone, one chilling truth became evident: Kaelen Thorne’s reputation was in precipitous decline.
“Tainted.”
The word—the most feared and damning stigma within the aristocratic circles of young men—sent a shiver through me. My body trembled almost imperceptibly at the mere thought. Simultaneously, a wave of stark relief washed over me, relief that no one yet knew my own hidden truth. Did that relief signify a valuation of my own precarious standing over Kaelen’s ruin?
Unease gnawed at me as I regarded Veridian’s face, feeling akin to a blasphemous priest concealing a profound secret before the divine. “Truly, my lord,” I murmured, a faint, almost derisive laugh escaping my lips, mingling with the tremor of fear.
It was almost a bitter jest that, to others, I now served as Veridian’s closest confidant. In truth, I was no different – a criminal branded with an unholy stigma. Only months prior, I had been Kaelen Thorne’s closest associate. Yet, here I was, merely hiding, barely having escaped a filthy snare.
I had only managed to avoid being fully exposed. That was the entirety of my triumph.
---
It was the pre-dawn hour. A message, from an unknown provenance, arrived unexpectedly. A missive at the fourth bell of morning. Half-asleep, I briefly wondered if the unfolding events were but a dream. Though I had deliberately distanced myself from Kaelen to shield against further injury, my heart still leaped at the faint possibility the message might be from him.
I rubbed my eyes with haste, checking once more the sender’s cipher. My feelings were a conflicted mess. A part of me hoped for a common spam message, perhaps offering illicit loans. But as soon as I deciphered the content, I knew it could not be Kaelen.
“Eli, I apologize for contacting you at this ungodly hour. Could you step outside your estate for a moment? I am truly sorry. Terribly sorry.”
“Just this once. Only this single time.”
Kaelen Thorne would never offer such an apology to me.
Among my contemporaries, only two individuals ever used the shortened ‘Eli’ for my name. Of those two, only one was so utterly despairing. How had Rhys Silvanus even discovered my family’s residence? The moment my eyes absorbed the message, my face twisted into a scowl. I desired no encounter with him—never wished to see him. His very presence was always disquieting.
Yet, despite my internal protests, I rose from my bed, buttoned my simple tunic, and stood. I walked to my chamber door, but stopped short of stepping through, resting my forehead against the cool wooden frame with a deep, shuddering sigh.
“...Damnation.”
The sensation was overwhelming, a tight, sickening knot in my stomach. No other phrase could adequately capture it. I clutched at my chest. I had always prided myself on my erudition, on the vast lexicon I had acquired from countless tomes, yet none of the words I knew could fully articulate this intricate, tangled mess of emotion.
It was simply… complicated.
The profound loathing I harbored for Rhys Silvanus, the stark memory of his bruised, swollen face from that day, and the desperate lengths I had gone to establish distance between them all swirled into a maelstrom. Biting my lip, I fiddled with the ornate doorknob, then closed my eyes and turned it with a decisive twist.
In the inner garden, the cold morning dew clung to the air, a silent herald of autumn’s approach. To avoid the damp grass, I stepped carefully onto the cool, smoothed marble stones that paved the path. The chill of dawn made me pull my jacket more tightly about me. My bare toes, protruding from the front of my slippers, carried me all the way to the wrought-iron portal of the estate.
I paused there for a moment, clicking my tongue lightly, then grasped the handle. The hinge’s faint creak made me flinch, and I opened the portal even more slowly, cautiously.
Beyond the portal, illuminated by the flickering gas lamp on the asphalted path, stood Rhys Silvanus in his simple academy robes. His head was hung low, as he idly scrawled invisible shapes on the ground with the tip of his worn shoe.
“...Rhys Silvanus.”
At my voice, Rhys’s head snapped up with a frantic swiftness.
“Eli, Elian!”