'He's sizing you up,' Luna inford as I caught the Imperial Knight's evaluating gaze.
I recognized him imdiately—the sa Ascendant-ranker who had been deployed to Mythos Academy, the one Cecilia had commanded to kidnap during the Sophomore Ball incident. Back then, he had seed untouchable. An Ascendant-ranker, as formidable as my professors. Soone I couldn't hope to challenge.
But not anymore.
'Let him,' I replied to Luna, my internal voice calm. 'I don't care.'
I returned my attention to Cecilia, who clung to with uncharacteristic vulnerability, her imperial composure montarily forgotten. She felt small in my arms, despite the trendous power I knew she wielded. Eleven months had changed us both.
The four girls must have missed beyond compare. The thought kindled a flicker of resentnt toward my forr self—the original Arthur who had been whisked away without consideration for what it would do to them. But after everything I'd endured, everything I'd gained... it was worth it.
"You got even more beautiful over ti," I whispered, studying her face as she looked up at . Her crimson eyes brightened in response, the imperial coldness giving way to sothing warr, more dangerous.
"Don't make want to capture you more, Nightingale," she whispered back with a smile that didn't quite mask her sincerity. This wasn't a ga to her—it never had been.
"I need to et my family," I said, gently stroking the small of her back. My parents, Aria—they had endured their own kind of hell these past months.
"I'll co with you," Cecilia declared, finally pulling away just enough to reveal the imperial resolve returning to her features. "And I'll punish all those who dared to detain you."
"Don't. They were doing their job," I cautioned, recognizing the familiar threat in her tone.
"How dare they detain you like a criminal," she muttered, dismissing my objection entirely. "At this point, I'll need to take drastic asures."
A chill crawled up my spine at her words. I'd seen firsthand what Cecilia's "drastic asures" could entail. I pulled her closer, feeling her relax against . The subtle scent of her perfu—elegant, seductive—filled my senses, and I felt my own tension begin to unwind.
Finally, I could breathe. The last eleven months had been hellish to say the least. Training grounds where death lurked in every shadow, challenges that pushed beyond re physical limits into realms of ntal and spiritual anguish. But I had survived. More than survived.
"Tell the most important thing that happened in your life first," I requested, curious about how Avalon had changed in my absence.
"I beca the Crown Princess," Cecilia answered simply.
My eyes narrowed in surprise. This was an unexpected deviation. In the original tiline, Cecilia had never beco Crown Princess of the Slatemark Empire—not because she lacked capability, but because she had never wanted the throne while her older brother lived.
"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious about this significant shift.
"To better support you, of course." She tilted her head as if stating the obvious. "I will make you sit at the peak of the world as my future husband, Arthur."
The raw sincerity in her declaration caught off guard. I could feel her genuine desire—the sheer determination behind her words—and found myself smiling as I leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"You also missed my seventeenth birthday," she continued as we began walking toward the exit, her hand firmly clasped in mine. "And of course, the three other girls' birthdays as well."
"I'll need to make ands," I promised, already contemplating what that might entail.
"And Arthur," Cecilia said as we stepped into the self-driving car. Her expression shifted, growing more serious as she glanced at Nate. "Cover your ears."
"As you wish," the Imperial Knight responded dutifully.
I observed as mana shimred around Cecilia and , forming a sound barrier that would prevent even an Ascendant-ranker from eavesdropping.
"Who was the being who took over your body?" Cecilia asked directly, her crimson eyes piercing into mine, searching for truth.
The question didn't surprise . Of course she would have noticed. Cecilia missed nothing.
"I am not fully sure," I responded honestly. I knew it was the original Arthur, but the full extent of his identity remained elusive, even to .
As the car glided through Avalon's gleaming streets, Cecilia shifted closer until she was practically in my lap, her crimson eyes never leaving mine.
"Whatever it was," she murmured, tracing a finger along my jawline, "it better understand that you belong to ." The possessiveness in her voice was unmistakable. "To us."
The heat of her touch penetrated through my clothes, a deliberate reminder of the connection we shared. Cecilia had never been subtle about her desires.
The car slowed as we approached the exclusive district where my family's penthouse stood among Avalon's elite residences. Cecilia reluctantly shifted away from as the vehicle ca to a stop.
"Your family deserves their reunion," she said, regaining so of her imperial composure. "I'll return to the palace for now."
"When will I see you again?" I asked.
She smiled, the predatory edge returning to her expression. "Soon enough. I have arrangents to make. The four of us expect proper apologies for your extended absence."
I nodded, understanding the implicit promise—or perhaps threat—in her words.
"Until then," she said, pressing one final, lingering kiss to my lips before the car door opened. "Don't disappear again, Nightingale. Next ti, I'll burn the world to find you."
I had no doubt she ant every word.
The elevator ride to the penthouse gave a mont to compose myself. Despite everything I'd faced beyond the Northern border, Cecilia Slatemark could still leave feeling slightly off-balance. So things never changed.
As the doors slid open to reveal our family's luxurious penthouse, I heard voices from the living room. A wave of emotion crashed over —voices I hadn't heard in nearly a year. Ho.
My sister spotted first. Aria froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening in disbelief before she launched herself across the room.
"ARTHUR!" she scread, colliding with hard enough that only my enhanced reflexes kept us both upright. "You're really back! You're really here!"
Over her shoulder, I saw my parents rise from the sofa, tears already streaming down my mother's face.
I was ho.
"Arthur!" My mother's voice broke as she rushed forward, nearly collapsing against . I felt her tears soaking through my shirt as her hands clutched desperately at my back, as if confirming I was real. My father stood just behind her, his usual stoic deanor cracked wide open, revealing raw emotion I'd rarely witnessed.
"Welco ho, son," he managed, his voice thick. When he embraced us both, I noticed the tremor in his arms, the slight hunch in his shoulders—eleven months of worry etched into his fra.
Aria hadn't released her grip on , her face buried against my shoulder. "We thought—" she began, then stopped herself. "No, I always knew you'd co back. I told them every day."
The penthouse looked exactly as I rembered—modern, elegant, with panoramic views of Avalon's skyline. It felt both familiar and strange, like returning to a childhood ho you've outgrown.
"Let him breathe, everyone," my father finally said, though his hand lingered on my shoulder. "He's probably exhausted."
"I'm fine," I assured them, though exhaustion didn't begin to describe what I felt. "It's just... good to be ho."
We moved to the living room, where signs of their vigil were evident—maps with marked locations near the Northern border, legal docunts, communications with Mythos Academy officials.
"They wouldn't tell us anything," my mother said, finally composing herself enough to speak. "Just that you were on a special training expedition. For eleven months." The last words carried an accusation, not aid at but at those who had taken .
"It was... intensive," I offered carefully. "The communication blackout was part of the training."
"Bullshit," Aria muttered, then flinched at our mother's sharp look. "Sorry, but it is. We're not stupid. People don't just disappear for a year on 'training expeditions' without a single ssage ho."
I t her gaze. My sister had always been perceptive—too perceptive sotis. I saw the questions burning in her eyes, the demand for truth.
"You're right," I acknowledged. "It wasn't just training. But I can't talk about all of it right now."
"Were you in danger?" My father asked directly. Always practical.
I considered lying. It would be kinder. But they deserved better than comforting falsehoods.
"Yes," I admitted. "But as you can see, I survived."
"More than survived," Aria comnted, studying with narrowed eyes. "You're... different."
A tense silence followed. They were all looking at —really looking—and seeing the changes I couldn't hide. The way I moved, the alertness that never fully left my posture, the hardness that had entered my gaze.
"Are you hungry?" My mother finally asked, falling back on the universal parental solution to awkward monts. "I can make your favorite—"
"That would be wonderful," I said, grateful for the reprieve. So conversations could wait until we'd all had ti to adjust to my return.
As she busied herself in the kitchen, Aria sidled closer on the sofa.
She bumped her shoulder against mine like she used to when we were younger. "I'm just glad you're back."
My father cleared his throat. "Arthur, whatever happened, whatever you need... we're here."
The simple declaration nearly undid . After everything I'd faced beyond the Northern border, it was this—the unconditional support of family—that threatened to breach my hard-won composure.
"I know," I said, my voice steady despite the emotions churning beneath. "Thank you."
Ho wasn't the sa. I wasn't the sa. But in that mont, surrounded by the people who had waited faithfully for my return, I felt sothing I hadn't experienced in nearly a year:
Peace.
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