"So… Your Highness, are we here to buy something specific?" I asked, half jogging to keep up with his long strides, my boots scuffing against the stone path as the crowd thinned around us.
He didn't look back. "Yes."
I huffed. "And that would be…?"
"A stone."
I blinked, nearly missing a step. "A stone? Really? There are plenty in my garden. I trip over them daily."
He stopped.
I barely managed to halt before crashing into his back, my nose a breath away from his cloak. For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. The noise of the market carried on around us, oblivious.
Then he exhaled slow and lifted a hand to his forehead, pressing his fingers there as if warding off a headache.
"Lady," he said carefully, the word stretched, "if I required an ordinary stone, I would not have brought you here."
He turned.
The hood shadowed most of his face, but not his sharp emerald eyes, locking onto me with a intensity that made my spine straighten without permission.
"This is not a common stone," he continued. "It forms only in places where magic has been used excessively, where it has soaked into the land itself."
I frowned, walking again as he did, matching his pace more cautiously now. "Like… where?"
"Battlefields where spells slaughtered armies." His gaze slid briefly to the side, scanning the street. "Ancient temples. Witch shelters. Fairy grounds. Anywhere magic was bled into the earth again and again until the soil itself remembered it."
…Okay.
That escalated fast.
He resumed walking as if he hadn't just rewritten my understanding of geology, and I followed quietly.
"These stones are not mined," he said. "They are found. And even then, only rarely."
His gloved fingers flexed once at his side. "Most crumble the moment pressure is applied to them."
"So they're… fragile?" I asked.
"Unstable," he corrected immediately. "They reject force that is not their own."
I slowed a fraction, watching the way his shoulders shifted beneath the cloak. "Then why do we need one?"
He didn't stop this time, just reduced his pace enough that I could hear the shift.
"I thought that you will not be able to wield a normal blade for long," he said. "Once you begin learning magic, your body should instinctively try to channel it through whatever you hold."
My fingers curled without me telling them to. I shoved them into my sleeves. "And a regular sword…?"
"Will subdue your potential," he said flatly. "It is not that you won't be able to fight with an ordinary blade, but it cannot hold your magic. It will resist it. And might harm you."
I stared at the side of his face. "That would've been nice to know earlier."
"You were not meant to know earlier."
I snorted under my breath. Typical.
"And this stone?" I asked. "What makes it different?"
He glanced at me then briefly, before looking ahead again. I never understood his random glances.
"It absorbs magic," he said. "Not like a vessel, but like a living thing. It binds itself to one source only."
My steps faltered. "One… person?"
"Yes."
I slowed despite myself. "So if it becomes my sword—"
"It will recognize your magic," he said, finishing without looking at me. "Respond to it. When you learn to hold a blade properly, you will also learn to pour your magic into it."
His hand lifted slightly, palm angled as if holding something. "Not separately but together."
"That sounds…" I searched, watching the way his fingers closed. "Intimate."
"It is." His voice dropped, quieter than before. "Which is why such stones are rarely used."
"And dangerous," I muttered.
He didn't deny it.
"Once bonded," he continued, "the stone ceases to be just a material. It becomes an extension of you." He slowed again, just enough. "Your magic will flow through it as naturally as breath."
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "And if it rejects me?"
His gaze stayed forward, fixed on something I couldn't see. "Then it will crumble," he said. "And so might your body."
I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding. "You really know how to sell things."
The faintest curve touched one corner of his mouth, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
"I was not attempting to comfort you."
Yeah. No kidding.
We turned into another corner, and immediately I was swallowed by the crowd. People were moving, pushing, jostling, and I struggled to keep up with Kairan. My legs barely managed to dodge wandering merchants and curious onlookers, and my breaths came fast.
Then, suddenly, I felt a hand clamp around mine.
I froze. My breath stilled completely, and my eyes dropped to my hand, held by his.
The contrast of ours hands was intimate.... mine were long, slender, and elegant, with fingers long enough to wrap around a sword hilt comfortably. And his… his were veiny, solid, wide, and perfectly warm.
They fit together perfectly.
I blinked.
"You… Lady?" I barely registered him saying something. His voice had that calm, low tone, but my mind refused to process his words.
We pushed forward through the crowd for a bit, and gradually the crowdBc thinned, leaving space to move freely again.
Finally, we stopped in front of a small, inconspicuous shop tucked into a narrow alley.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why… why would such a rare stone be sold here? Isn't it dangerous? Won't people with ill intentions—"
"They won't," he shook his head. "These shops are not random stalls. They are overseen by temple custodians. They know exactly who may purchase magical items, and who cannot. Nothing leaves here by accident."
He let go of my hand, and the warmth vanished like a flame snuffed out. I stared at my hand, feeling suddenly hollow.
"Come. Why are you standing there?" he called, gesturing with his hand to come forward.
I swallowed, nodded, and ran to catch up. We stepped inside the shop, and the world outside seemed to vanish instantly.
Kairan walked ahead of me. And I followed, my heart still thrumming in my chest from the memory of his hand holding mine.
I didn't know whether I was excited or terrified.
Polished stone floors, shelves lined with crystals and artifacts pulsing faintly with magic, the scent of herbs and incense was heavy in the ar.
Suddenly, I felt nauseous.
The air was saturated with magic layered over magic. Shelves carved directly into walls held stones, crystals, fragments of metal that hummed softly, some glowing, some deceptively dull. Sigils pulsed faintly beneath our feet, and the smell of iron, incense, ozone made my head swim.
I pressed my fingers to my forehead.
Before I could say anything, Kairan's arm came around my shoulders.
"Slow down," he rubbed my shoulder slowly. "You're standing in a convergence chamber. Even trained mages feel pressure here."
I nodded, instinctively leaning into his side. He didn't comment or loosen his hold either.
We moved deeper into the shop. I couldn't focus on any one object for long. my vision blurred, limbs heavy 0but Kairan guided me. His hand stayed at my shoulder, thumb pressing occasionally, grounding me.
After a few minutes, he stopped.
"This one," he said.
He lifted a stone from a tray. It was dark and smooth.
I stared. "…That's it?"
His lips curved faintly. "Disappointed?"
"It looks like something shows up in my garden after rain."
"Good," he replied calmly. "Then no one will recognize it for what it is."
I frowned. "And what is it?"
"Aether-reactive core stone," he said, rotating it slightly between his fingers. "Its structure isn't fixed. It adapts to the first magic it resonates with and then binds permanently."
My breath caught. "So… it changes?
I swallowed. "But swords are forged from steel and iron."
"Yes." He flicked my forehead lightly. "And this is meant to survive that process. The stone softens when exposed to heat and mana simultaneously. It doesn't melt, but integrates."
"…Like a parasite," I muttered.
"Like a spine," he tilted his head. "Once carved into the blade or hilt, it absorbs your magic each time you channel it. Over time, the weapon will recognize only you."
My heart skipped. "And if someone else tries to use it?"
"It's just a normal sword for them," he said simply.
"Oh."
I hesitated, then lifted a finger. "Can I touch it?"
"You may," he allowed. "Your magic is dormant. It won't respond yet."
I brushed the surface lightly. It was cool.
Kairan's attention shifted instantly toward the far corner of the shop.
A man stood behind the counter. His gaze flicked between us before settling on the stone. We walked over to him.
"State your purpose," the man said instantly, in a stern voice. "These materials are restricted. Are your names registered under the Temple's aether-bond ledger?"
Kairan didn't answer.
He removed his hood.
The man froze.
"Y–Your Highness," he breathed, bowing so low his spine creaked. "The Crown Prince."
"Spare the ceremony," Kairan said coolly, placing the stone on the counter. His hand remained there. "I require this stone in forging grade. Enough for a single sword. Deliver it to Auravera Palace within two days."
"Yes–yes, of course," the man stammered, picking up the stone carefully. But his eyes settled on me, peaking sneakily.
Kairan shifted half a step closer enough that my shoulder brushed his chest. His arm slid around me.
His voice dropped. "Do not look at her."
The man stiffened instantly. "M–My apologies, Your Highness."
He didn't wait for dismissal. He turned and hurried off, eyes firmly on the ground.
I exhaled, only then realizing how tightly I'd been holding my breath. Being noticed like that felt… wrong like standing in the open without armor.
Kairan's arm tightened slightly, his thumb pressing once at my side.
"Are you steady?" he asked, low enough that only I could hear.
I nodded. "I think so."
"Say it if you're not," he said, already angling his body to shield me from the flow of two workers passing by. "I won't have you fainting in a place like this."
The man returned with a register. Kairan signed without pause, then set a heavy pouch of Valkathra currency on the counter.
We left immediately.
The noise outside hit me all at once.
"This crowd is making me hungry," I muttered.
He glanced at me sideways. "That's unfortunate. Cannibalism is frowned upon."
I shot him a look. "I want food, not people."
"Good. I'd hate to explain that incident."
I rolled my eyes. "You enjoy this, don't you?"
"Immensely."
"Let us find a respectable tavern," he said.
I nodded, but then noticed the stares. People were openly whispering now.
Huh? Why are they looking at us?
"Is that the Crown Prince?"
"His eyes are like gemstones…"
"Who is that lady?"
Their eyes were mostly ogling beside me—at Kairsn. I turned my face slowly to him and his hood was still down.
My eyes widened. Without thinking, I rose onto my toes and tugged the hood back over his head.
He stiffened, clearly caught off guard, and grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?"
"Saving you from becoming today's entertainment," I hissed, glaring. "Everyone's staring."
He exhaled slowly, unimpressed. "They always stare."
"That's not the point."
He leaned slightly closer, voice low. "It would not trouble me if they saw me."
His gaze dropped to my face. "But it would become a problem if they saw you with me."
"…Why?" I frowned. His face leaned more closer to my face, eyes locking into mine.
He turned and resumed walking. "Because Valkathra is kinder to rumors than it is to women."
I hurried after him, fingers still gripping his cloak. I held his cloak tighter as the crowd thickened again, bodies brushing past me, shoving me back a step at a time until my grip was the only thing keeping me close. He simply slowed his pace until the press eased and the street widened.
The road opened into a grand stretch of the capital. Three-storeyed buildings lined both sides, their stone façades polished smooth, balconies overflowing with hanging lamps and trailing ivy. Shops occupied the lower floors. wide glass windows displaying fabrics, weapons, books, trinkets while homes rose above them, warm light spilling from arched windows. The street itself was immaculately paved, sigils faintly etched into the stones to keep the ground clean despite the endless foot traffic.
We stopped in front of a tavern.
It was elegant with dark wood, carved pillars, a discreet crest above the door instead of a loud signboard. The kind of place nobles pretended they didn't frequent.
The moment we stepped inside, heads turned.
Even if no one recognized him as the Crown Prince, it was impossible not to notice a big man like him.
An attendant hurried over and guided us to a secluded corner, half hidden by carved wooden screens and trailing plants.
I slid onto one side of the long sofa.
Kairan took the opposite seat, spreading his legs slightly, one arm stretching along the back of the sofa with effortless dominance. He looked completely at ease like the entire tavern belonged to him.
His gaze settled on me.
"How do you feel now?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I replied. "Just hungry."
"Hm." His eyes narrowed faintly. "You neglect yourself."
I scoffed. "I don't neglect myself. I was kidnapped in broad daylight for weapon shopping."
His lips twitched. "It was necessary."
"Of course it was."
I looked away before he could say something infuriating again, letting my attention drift over the tavern instead.
The interior was stunning. Vaulted ceilings carved with hunting scenes, chandeliers made of crystal and enchanted glass, walls etched with gold-lined runes that hummed softly. Valkathra truly never did anything halfway.
My eyes wandered and wandered and....drifted back to him.
I didn't mean to stare. I just… did.
The way his jaw tightened slightly as he rested his cheek against his knuckles. The subtle flex of muscle beneath his sleeve when he shifted.
"…You're staring," he said.
I blinked, leaning back, biting my lip. "I am not."
Ugh. How did he even notice?
One brow lifted. "You haven't looked away for several seconds."
I didn't understand why was I even staring these days. It was embarassing. Heat crept up my neck. "I was thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're one to talk."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, then glancing sideway with slight turn of head.
"Order," he turned his head toward the approaching attendant. "And eat properly. If you faint again, I will not be gentle about it."
I muttered under my breath, "Threatening me over lunch now?"
"I call it concern." He turned back to me with a smile.
I shot him a look.