Aveline couldn’t get who this man was or what he wanted.

And then, when Aveline thought she was going to get torn apart by this man, a sound broke the situation.

Knock. Knock.

The sound echoed through the room.

Both of them turned toward the door.

Aveline’s eyes widened in surprise and slightly in relief when she saw Aelion standing there, a little panicked as he peeked in.

The silver-haired man looked between them once before his expression shifted into something deeply resigned, as though he had expected this exact disaster.

The old man immediately released Aveline’s wrist and stomped toward the door, grumbling incoherently beneath his breath.

Aveline quickly rubbed her aching arm and inhaled sharply.

That hurt. Very much.

Meanwhile, Aelion began speaking calmly to the old man, though Aveline quickly realized the conversation made absolutely no sense.

"You people from the Sylvaster family are all insufferable!" the old man barked.

"Sylvarien," Aelion corrected automatically.

"That’s what I said!"

"You called us Sylvaster."

"Same plague, different pronunciation!"

Aveline blinked slowly.

What?

"And stop bringing strangers into my corridors, Adrian!"

"Aelion," he corrected again with the exhausted patience of someone clearly used to this.

The old man pointed accusingly at him.

"You see? Even your name is arrogant!"

Aveline honestly could not tell whether this man was a genius or simply deranged.

Then, while the old man continued ranting passionately about things nobody else seemed capable of understanding, Aelion subtly waved his hand toward Aveline behind the man’s back.

Run.

Aveline did not need further encouragement.

Quietly, carefully, Aveline slipped past them and eased herself into the corridor before the old man could remember she existed again.

For one glorious second, she thought she had escaped.

Then something yanked her backward by the sleeve.

"Tell your sister to stay away from my lab, Adrian," the old man snapped. "Otherwise, I’ll be speaking to your father myself."

Aveline nearly stumbled as she was dragged back. She turned slowly, staring at the hand still clutching her sleeve like a steel trap.

Aelion swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw tightening. "Yes, Professor Lucien," he said with a strained smile that looked painfully practiced.

Then he reached for Aveline’s arm, trying to pry her free.

It did not work.

And now Aveline was beginning to get irritated.

First, this strange old man had called her a boy. Then a leveret. Now she apparently had a brother and a father as well.

At this rate, she feared he might assign her an entire bloodline before sunset.

This place truly was full of lunatics.

Still... she decided to endure it.

Mostly because hidden inside her pocket were the four golden Aetherstones she had quietly stolen from the heap while no one was paying attention.

Compensation, she decided. Fair compensation.

So instead of protesting, she allowed Aelion to handle the situation while pretending to be an innocent victim of circumstance.

Professor Lucien suddenly bent toward her again until his face was only inches away.

Aveline froze.

The madness in his amber eyes had not vanished, but now there was something else there too. Something painfully soft. Fragile. Like he was looking at someone long gone.

Then, without warning, he lifted a hand and patted her head gently.

"Go," he murmured. "Be happy and safe."

The words sounded oddly sincere.

And strangely broken.

Even his eyes had reddened slightly, as though emotion sat too close beneath the surface.

I would love to go, Aveline thought bitterly, if only you would release my sleeve.

And... do I by chance look like his first love? Is he confused?

But she forced a sweet smile onto her face instead.

"I’ll be thinking about you too... Lucien," she said dramatically, even fluttering her lashes for effect.

Beside her, Aelion looked moments away from collapsing from secondhand embarrassment. His eyes widened. His lips twitched violently as though his soul had physically recoiled from what she had just said to that wrinkled old man.

Aveline ignored him.

This situation clearly called for emotional manipulation.

"Be safe out there," Lucien said quietly.

This time, his voice carried none of the earlier sharpness. It sounded distant. Tired.

Aveline nodded obediently like the picture of innocence.

Slowly, finally, his grip loosened from her sleeve.

"Bring her home safely, Adrian," Lucien told Aelion.

"Yes, Professor," Aelion answered immediately.

And the very second Lucien let go...

Both of them ran. Not walked Ran.

Aveline clutched her pockets protectively as they fled down the corridor, her heart pounding wildly while Aelion dragged her farther away like they had narrowly escaped death itself.

Only once they had turned three separate corners did they finally slow down.

Aveline immediately checked her pockets.

The stolen stones were still there.

Relief flooded her entire body.

At least she had gained something from this terrifying experience.

But before she could even breathe a sigh of relief, Aelion suddenly turned on her.

In one swift motion, he shoved her back against the wall.

Aveline gasped as his palm struck the stone beside her neck, pinning her in place so quickly she barely had time to process the movement. The force of it sent a small jolt through her body, her pulse leaping in surprise.

For a moment, all she could think about was how absurdly close he was.

A few strands of his silky silver hair slipped free from behind his shoulder and brushed against hers, cool and soft, carrying a faint, elegant fragrance she had not noticed before. His face was too near, close enough that every detail seemed unfairly sharp—the line of his jaw, the pale curve of his cheek, the quiet intensity in his blue eyes.

He was still beautiful.

Annoyingly, impossibly beautiful.

Aveline had to force herself to look past that and focus on what mattered. His shadows.

They were wrong again.

Not as grotesque as before, but not entirely calm either. They stirred around him in a way that made her uneasy, as though they were trying to hide something from her.

"Have you met him before?" he asked.

Aveline blinked, taken aback by the question. Then she shook her head at once. "I don’t even know who that is."

Aelion’s eyes widened slightly. He tilted his head, studying her with renewed interest.

"You don’t know the Archduke?" he asked.

Aveline frowned. "He’s the Archduke?" She paused, then glanced up at him with growing confusion. "And can you move?"

Aelion did not step back.

Instead, he leaned in just a little more, enough that his breath brushed faintly over her cheek when he spoke.

"His name is Lucien Caelvaris," he said quietly. "He is the Dean of the Crown Arcanum."

Aveline’s attention sharpened.

"And his granddaughter is engaged to the Crown Prince."

Everything in her went still.

She had been about to shove him away.

But at those words, her body froze.

Theron’s betrothed?