Chapter 11

Eleven

A ric fought the urge to pace as he waited in the elegant corridor outside Lord Valerian's private study. The guards on either side of the door watched him with impassive stares, and he forced himself to stand still, willing his heart to stop pounding in his ears.

He could still feel the faint, fading edges of the dream clinging to him like mist—Malekith's presence so near and yet agonizingly out of reach. He cursed the timing of this summons; he needed answers, now more than ever, and he doubted Valerian would be forthcoming.

But what choice did he have? He was here, in Valerian's city, at the mercy of human politics and intrigues that felt hopelessly tangled and foreign after so long away. But he'd faced demons and dark magic without fear; he could face whatever machinations the Astarians had in store for him. And if nothing else, perhaps he could learn something useful before finding a way to speak to Malekith once more.

The guard to his left finally spoke up, calling out through the door. "My lord! Aric Solarian has arrived."

The words had barely finished echoing off the high ceilings when the door swung inward with a gentle creak. Valerian stood framed in the entranceway, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his dark eyes swept over Aric appraisingly.

"Aric," Valerian said warmly, holding out a hand. "Thank you for joining me on such short notice. I apologize for disrupting your rest."

His eyes said otherwise—that sharp glint of calculation lurking behind them—but Aric forced himself to match Valerian's smile as he took the offered hand. "Of course, Lord Regent. I am yours to command."

The little chuckle Valerian gave was disarming in its warmth. "I assure you, I have no intention of commanding anyone tonight—at least not yet." He released Aric's hand but lingered close, guiding him with an arm over his shoulders into the room. "I thought we might take a walk through our fair city instead. I imagine it must look quite different than you remember."

"A walk?" Aric tried not to sound too incredulous.

Valerian ignored it if he noticed. "Yes, quite different indeed." He withdrew, calling out to someone beyond Aric's sight with brisk instructions for preparations before turning back to him with that relentless charm.

"Shall we?"

Despite himself, Aric found himself smiling back.

The palace's corridors were like a labyrinth of polished marble and gilded woodwork, but Valerian navigated them with ease, pointing out ancient statues and tapestries as they walked.

"This, for example, depicts the Blade of Sun's Dawn, wielded by our first Mage High Lord during the founding of Astaria." Valerian gestured to a massive sword encased in glass. "It's said he called down the very light of the gods themselves to banish the demon hordes from our shores."

Aric stopped to admire the craftsmanship, his mind spinning with the ancient magics it must have channeled. "Even as a replica, it's remarkable."

"Indeed," Valerian said, watching him closely. "We take great pride in our heritage." With a glance over his shoulder, he leaned in closer. "Don't tell the Pureblades, but I've had it imbued with a great wellspring of magic and blessed by the Light's priests. Not as powerful as the original, of course, but I like to imagine it bears some of the original's strength. In spirit, at least."

Aric rubbed his chin as he considered it. "I have heard the old High Lords often used magical artifacts as foci for their powers. Maybe your replica could be much the same."

"Perhaps, perhaps."

They moved on to a colossal tapestry depicting the founding of Astaria—the clashing armies of humans and demons across the silvered fabric, strands of gold and silver thread gleaming in the torchlight. Valerian paused before it with a solemn nod.

"The city's foundings were not without sacrifice." Valerian's voice was soft but carried in the vaulted hallway. "When humanity staked its claim on this land, we called upon every power at our disposal—both natural and otherworldly. And yet here we stand." He turned, those piercing blue eyes settling on Aric again.

"Here we stand," Aric echoed, though his thoughts were back on Malekith and the words he'd heard spoken before in the demons' lands, whispers he'd spied in the ancient tomes in the House Ixion library—the claims that humans had taken what was rightfully demon-held land. Aric watched the skillful brushstrokes that captured every nuance of battle in brilliant color; he'd thought he understood this war once. Did he still?

Valerian caught his eye again with a lingering look that spoke volumes beyond the history lesson they were sharing. His hand brushed Aric's shoulder as if merely steadying himself—but there was a touch more there, wasn't there? A warmth and firmness that sent sparks along Aric's nerves; an invitation, intentional or no.

Aric met his stare unwaveringly, though his heart pounded furiously against his ribs.

He was playing with fire here—the Lord Regent seemed a gracious host thus far, but if their little dance turned darker . . .

Then Aric would just have to meet shadow with flame. It would hardly be the first time.

As they exited the palace, Aric was struck by the bustling energy of Astaria's streets. Valerian guided him through the city's main square, where merchants hawked exotic wares and street performers entertained crowds. Aric marveled at the diversity and vibrancy of the city, a joyousness he'd all but forgotten while a prisoner in the demon lands.

Valerian explained his efforts to maintain this prosperity despite the ongoing demon threat. "We've strengthened our trade alliances with neighboring realms," he said, pointing to a line of caravans laden with spices and textiles. "It's important we present a united front, even if internal tensions make it difficult sometimes."

Aric could only nod, still reeling from everything he had learned since his return. Yet he couldn't help but notice the way Valerian's chest puffed with pride as a group of citizens approached them, showering him with praise for his leadership.

"The Lord Regent saved my husband's life," one woman gushed, and as Valerian nodded to his guard to let her through, she reached out and grasped Valerian's hand. "Our farm was nearly overrun by demons last spring, but thanks to his quick action, we were able to drive them back."

"It's nothing," Valerian demurred, though Aric saw the pleased glint in his eyes. "Just doing my part for the kingdom." He looked over to Aric, that glint barely stifled as he seemed to judge whether Aric was similarly impressed, before pulling away from the citizens with a nod of apology. "If you'll excuse me."

They continued on through the crowd, Valerian stopping occasionally to offer words of encouragement or a sympathetic ear to those who sought him out. Aric watched from the sidelines, torn between admiration for Valerian's deft handling of public affairs and an undercurrent of suspicion that no one could be this popular without hiding something dangerous beneath it.

As they continued their tour, Valerian guided Aric into a bustling governmental district that seemed to pulse with the city's heartbeat. Courtiers and officials hurried by, their voices a symphony of clipped words and rustling parchment as they carried out the day-to-day running of Astaria. Valerian's own demeanor shifted as they walked, the easy charm he'd displayed earlier now tempered with an air of authority.

"This area oversees the administration of our laws and treaties," Valerian explained, his voice rising above the din. "From here, we coordinate our defenses against demon incursions, manage our alliances with neighboring realms, and attend to the myriad concerns of our people."

Aric nodded. It was easy to admire Valerian's confidence and poise as he spoke—his words clear and precise, his presence commanding without being overbearing. Aric allowed himself to be swept up in Valerian's vision for the kingdom—this steadfast determination to protect their people while striving for a brighter future.

And then a voice sliced through the crowd like a knife.

"Lord Regent." The words were delivered with a sneer as a well-dressed courtier approached, his dark eyes flashing with contempt. "I must have a word with you about your latest decree."

Valerian's expression hardened as he turned to face the courtier, his mouth drawing into a thin line. "Ah, Minister Edran." His tone was icy now, all traces of warmth gone. "I trust it is important."

Edran sniffed, folding his arms across his chest. "I question the wisdom of your decision to allocate additional resources to the Borderlands garrison at this time. We should be pulling our forces back to defend the kingdom's core now"

Aric felt Valerian bristle beside him, though he kept his voice even. "What, and cower behind our city's walls? No. I believe it is time to take the fight to the demons themselves."

Edran smirked. "That is far beyond what King Aster would approve, and we both know this. Or perhaps you are simply trying to curry favor with the border lords in preparation for your—ambitious plans?"

Valerian's eyes flashed with anger, but he said nothing.

Valerian's smile returned, sharper now. "You presume to speak for the king in his absence, Minister? I find that rather presumptuous." He took a step forward, forcing the courtier to crane his neck to maintain eye contact. "Need I remind you that in King Aster's stead, it is I who makes such decisions?"

The color drained from Edran's face as he scrambled to backpedal. "I—I meant no disrespect, Lord Regent. I merely wished to?—"

"You will speak to me with the respect due my station." Valerian's voice was low but carried a honed edge now, one that sent an involuntary shiver up Aric's spine despite himself. "Or you will find yourself out of the court so fast your head will spin."

Edran gulped, and Aric almost pitied the fool. Almost. "Yes, Lord Regent. Of course."

"Now, if you have concerns regarding my policies, you may submit them through the proper channels."

"Y-Yes, my lord." Edran bowed so low he nearly toppled forward before hastily retreating into the crowd.

Valerian watched him go, then turned back to Aric, his smile still in place though it no longer reached his eyes. "Ah, the challenges of leadership," he said lightly. "Some still seem to view me as nothing more than a temporary figurehead. But I shall endeavor to prove them wrong."

Valerian's anger simmered beneath the surface, barely restrained. The ease with which he had switched from cordiality to cold fury was unsettling—a reminder that for all his charm, Valerian was not a man to be crossed.

Valerian motioned for them to continue their walk, the crowd parting before them as they strolled towards the heart of the city. "I find it helps to be reminded of the larger picture—especially when dealing with minor functionaries so intent on their petty intrigues." He gave a dismissive wave, as if brushing away gnats.

Aric fell into step beside him, torn between wanting to press Valerian for more information and fearing to overstep. "You mentioned earlier that you're trying to strengthen our defenses," he said carefully. "Is that why you sent representatives to Thornhaven?"

"Ah, the Silver Tower's task force." Valerian glanced sideways at him, an inscrutable smile playing on his lips. "I've been waiting for us to reach the Silver Tower before discussing them, but I suppose now is as good a time as any."

Aric nodded slowly. He'd noticed the mages in town—men and women in elegant robes in a dozen different hues, marked with symbols for each school of magic—but the tense distance they'd all kept from him warned Aric of the wary scrutiny they were no doubt placing him under.

Valerian leaned closer, dropping his voice. "I fear my uncle allowed the Pureblades to grow far too powerful in recent years while neglecting the potential of the Silver Tower." His lip curled slightly as he said the name of the order, distaste plain on his handsome features. "It's a mistake I do not care to repeat."

He straightened up again, his eyes fixed on some distant point ahead of them as they neared a massive structure that seemed to dominate the city's skyline. The tower soared upwards in a cascade of gleaming white stone, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a living thing. Aric felt a pang in his chest—a place he knew intimately.

"The Silver Tower," Valerian said, his voice filled with reverence. "A beacon of magical learning and innovation for generations, as you're well aware, of course. And yet we have only scratched the surface of what it can achieve."

Aric's heart began to race as they approached its gates. Memories flooded back to him unbidden—of nights spent poring over ancient tomes by candlelight, of relentless drills in defensive spells and battle formations, of his first lessons with Davin and Olaya when he was just a boy . . .

But he sensed other things, as well—something dark lurking at the edges of his consciousness that made him shiver despite himself.

"I believe we can do better," Valerian continued passionately, drawing Aric back from the brink of memory's tidepool. "We have let fear and mistrust blind us to new possibilities for far too long. Even the Silver Tower is cautious in most cases, treating magic like a delicate thing that might shatter if they push it too hard. But I intend to change that."

As they walked, Valerian's hand occasionally brushed against Aric's arm, a touch that seemed both casual and deliberate. "And what about you, Aric? What was it like growing up within the Silver Tower's walls? I imagine your experiences there have given you a unique perspective."

Aric hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. His time at the Silver Tower had been both formative and painful, a constant struggle to reconcile his own beliefs with the rigid traditions of the mage order. But there was no denying the powerful magic he had learned there—magic that still coursed through his veins like fire.

"It was . . . enlightening, my lord," he said carefully. "But also isolating. The Silver Tower can be a closed society at times, resistant to change or new ideas."

Valerian nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yes, I suspect as much. But your talents are undeniable, Aric. Your affinity for golden flame, your command of both human and demon magics . . . There is so much more we could achieve together, I think."

Aric's heart skipped a beat at the praise, but he chose to remain cautious. "I'm honored by your confidence in me, Lord Regent. But my past actions have put me in a difficult position with the tower."

"Perhaps." Valerian's eyes gleamed with some unspoken thought. "But I have a sense that you are destined for greater things than petty court politics. And I would very much like to help you realize that potential."

The words were laden with implication—and not just in terms of Aric's magical abilities. There was something else there too, lurking beneath the surface—a raw magnetism in Valerian's stare that made Aric shiver despite himself.

"I would be grateful for any guidance you could offer," he said finally, his voice a little unsteady.

Valerian smiled, and this time the warmth was genuine. "Then we shall see what we can accomplish together, yes?"

Their path led them to a grand plaza where preparations were underway for an upcoming event. Workers bustled about, raising banners and arranging flowers as Valerian guided Aric to a stop.

"The Grand Ball," Valerian explained, gesturing to the opulent decorations. "An annual celebration of our kingdom's strength and unity. Though this year, it will be followed by something far more consequential."

He turned to face Aric, and his expression was grave now. "The Council of War. We will meet with leaders from our allied realms to devise a strategy for ending this conflict once and for all."

A chill ran through Aric at the ominous weight in Valerian's words. "And what role do you envision for me in all of this?"

Valerian's gaze sharpened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I intend for you to be at my side, Aric. I have seen what you are capable of—both your magical prowess and your understanding of the enemy we face." His eyes gleamed with ambition. "The mages of Astaria have long been overshadowed by the Pureblade Order in matters of war. It is time that changed."

Aric studied Valerian's face, sensing the layers of calculation beneath the carefully cultivated facade. Whatever Valerian's true intentions, he was clearly intent on shaking up the delicate balance of power that had defined Astarian politics for generations.

"I will do whatever is necessary," Aric said finally, the words feeling like both a vow and a warning.

This time, no warmth graced Valerian's smile. "I have no doubt you will."

They had reached the outskirts of a district cloaked in thick fog and odd smells—an oily tang, like metal and ashes, that pricked at the back of Aric's throat. Valerian paused before an imposing gate flanked by hooded statues, their faces obscured beneath cowls. Aric realized abruptly that this was the area in the city where he'd seen the damage that almost looked like an assault had taken place. On closer inspection now, though, it became apparent that the warping was haphazard. Almost accidental. Not the work of an invading force, it seemed, but something less predictable.

He frowned, reminding himself to ask Olaya about her comment later.

"The Iron District," Valerian said, his voice carrying a note of reverence. "The center of our research and development endeavors. From here, our most ambitious projects are forged."

Aric glanced at him sideways, studying his expression. If this district housed the city's armories and forges, then what new weapons were they creating to combat the demon threat?

Or worse—what were they trying to harness?

But Valerian simply smiled at him—a smile full of secrets as vast as the city itself—and gestured for Aric to follow him inside.

As they entered the gate, Aric felt a peculiar tingle across his skin—a faint buzzing, like static electricity. He suppressed a shiver as they passed through shadowy corridors lined with doors. Behind each one, he could sense the muffled thrum of magic at work.

This was no ordinary mages' workshop.

One chamber door was cracked open, and Aric slowed his pace as they approached it. Inside, he caught sight of complex arrays drawn on the floor in chalk—circles within circles of intricate runes—and glowing crystals suspended from the ceiling beams.

"What is this?" Aric asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

Valerian stopped beside him, gazing into the chamber with unconcealed admiration. "A glimpse into what we could achieve. So much lost over these past centuries, lost to fear." He turned those penetrating eyes on Aric again; eyes that saw too much.

"I'm trying to change that."

Aric's pulse quickened under his scrutiny. As he'd feared. Had Valerian seen Aric's journal? Did he know about Aric's forbidden research into demonic magic?

He held Valerian's stare though—steadfast and unyielding.

If they wanted a witch hunt?—

"They have surpassed my wildest imaginings," Valerian continued, undaunted by Aric's sudden steeling. "Our potential is limitless when we cease shackling ourselves. To choose a brighter future for Astaria." His words were tinged with the fever of the righteous now—the same tone he had used when addressing the council earlier that night.

"And that is what we need you for."

Aric ventured, "I don't suppose you could show me more? Let me see what's really going on down here?" He infused his voice with a playful note, hoping to pry some truth loose.

Valerian's turned away from Aric, gesturing for them to move on. "I'm afraid such matters are of the highest sensitivity. Not even the Silver Tower has been made fully aware of our endeavors here." His tone was polite but carried a cool edge of warning. "For now, I must ask you to trust that we have only the kingdom's best interests at heart."

Aric fell silent, his frustration mounting. He'd hoped to learn more about Valerian's true goals on this walk through Astaria, but the regent was proving maddeningly elusive. Whatever lay behind the district's gates was clearly of grave importance, and Valerian had no intention of revealing it anytime soon.

Still, Aric could not shake the feeling that he was being led into a trap—one as elaborate and intricate as the magical wards he'd spent his life studying.

As they turned back toward the city center, Valerian's demeanor softened, the hard edge of anger giving way to a more thoughtful expression. "I should like to discuss your role in tomorrow's strategy meeting," he said. "I have high hopes for what you might contribute."

Aric swallowed hard, his heart skipping a beat. "My role, my lord?"

Valerian smiled, and it was a smile full of promise. "You've been in the field. You've faced the enemy firsthand. Your insights could be invaluable as we plan our next moves."

Aric nodded slowly, trying to keep his thoughts from racing ahead. He'd always wanted to play a larger role in Astaria's defense—but he'd never imagined it would come about like this. Was Valerian truly interested in his ideas, or was he merely hoping to use Aric's experiences as leverage in his own political games?

"You've spent years on the front lines," Valerian continued. "But I think you're capable of much more than that. With your talents and your knowledge, you could help shape the very future of our kingdom."

Aric took a deep breath, willing his racing heart to calm down. It was tempting—so very tempting—to believe Valerian's words, to let himself be drawn into this new web of intrigue and ambition. But he couldn't forget the secrets he still held, the truth he still sought. He had to be careful; had to keep his true goals close to his chest.

"I'll do whatever I can to help," Aric said finally, choosing his words with care.

Valerian's hand brushed against his again—a touch full of promise—and Aric felt a shiver run up his spine despite himself. "Good," Valerian said softly. "I knew I could count on you."

They finished their walk at a scenic overlook, the city of Astaria spread out before them like a living tapestry. Valerian stood close, their shoulders almost touching as they admired the view.

"I have big plans for this city, Aric. I want to usher in a new era of prosperity and peace, free from the shadow of war." His voice was fervent now, his eyes distant as if envisioning that future even now. "With your help, I believe we can make that dream a reality."

Aric felt a weight settle in his chest—a mix of awe and apprehension at the task laid before him. He had come here seeking answers about the anomaly, but it seemed he had stumbled into something far greater than he could have imagined.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cityscape, Valerian turned to face him once more. "I will send word with details about tomorrow's ball and our strategy meeting." His hand lingered on Aric's arm. "For now, rest well and know that you are safe here."

Safe. Such a subjective word.

Aric couldn't help but wonder if all he'd really done was escape one cage, only to fall into another trap.