Henry stumbled along for what felt like hours and hours, his ragged stride traversing up and down the mountaintop in search of the trail his protector had guided them here on. In the blackest darkness of night, everything appeared to be a pathway, so he did quite a bit more backtracking than uncovering the way home. In the stupor of his imagination, however, he was already at the base of the mountain, his feet nearly on the front steps of the castle. In reality, he was very, very lost and very, very blind. The not-so-distant howling of creatures that lurked in the wilderness kept his senses as close to sobered as possible despite the irrationality that prevailed.

Henry had been out for an indefinite amount of time when he realized he was being followed. It had started as a hunch, a chilling feeling somewhere in his soul. His instincts to flee the area and return to the safety of the cabin overwhelmed him to the point where he sobered--or perhaps time had done it. He couldn’t be sure with the moonless sky that hung above, and the rationality that returned illuminated the truth that his senses had failed him. He had been chasing his own tail for hours, far enough away from the cabin to be trapped in the wilderness but nowhere near off the mountain. Then, he heard the snapping of twigs nearby. The drawing of a crossbow. Several crossbows. Henry’s breath hitched in his throat--it was never supposed to end like this.

It didn’t.

A great white light erupted from a few feet away from Henry, illuminating the scene before him. Five soldiers seemed to be affected by an invisible explosion, the force knocking them off their feet and sending them flying away from Henry. Two of the soldiers fell off the surface and into the ravine below, the two he had been watching. He assumed the other three had succumbed to a similar fate, because while his eyes hadn’t seen it, they were also unable to find the bodies after the sparks and the light had dimmed into something his senses could consume.

“Cassia,” Henry breathed softly, his eyes aglow with wonder. She walked towards him with the light and the sparks calming behind her, slowly fading into nothing. She looked like a goddess, something divine and unshakeable--a true force of nature.

“Henry,” she faced him, her bright eyes aglow with tranquility and softness. She began to speak, but stopped in her tracks, mere inches from the prince. She could have reached out to touch him, but her focus had quickly shifted elsewhere. “Hello Ayara,” she said matter-of-factly, though Henry couldn’t locate the woman at all. He trusted Cassia with his life, though, and knew the woman lingered nearby. This suspicion was confirmed when he heard the piercing of flesh--Cassia’s flesh.

“Cassia!” His tone was pained, and he knelt down beside her with concern as she laid there, half in his arms, breathing heavily. His rage at Ayara’s actions was only curbed by his pain and his fear of losing the woman before him. “Don’t you dare hurt her.” His tone was laced with malice, with venom. But most of all, with pain.

“There was poison on that dagger, wasn’t there? You’re light on your feet, intelligent. It’s no wonder everyone in this province wants you dead.” She paused, gently squeezing Henry’s hand which was intertwined with her own. “You knew that would kill me where all else would fail.”

Henry was quiet, still. Perhaps he was thinking, perhaps he had done enough thinking for one night. He held Cassia in his arms, unsure of where Ayara actually stood. It was likely for the better that he didn’t, and he couldn’t pursue any acts of violence. The witch’s breathing was still labored, yet her voice remained confident, unshaken. It was a very Cassia way to be, for someone he knew to be dying slowly. “But quickness and wit aren’t everything,” she added, drawing out the words for dramatic effect. “Knowledge has to count for something too, does it not? By killing me, you lose all the knowledge you wished to gain as reward for this little task. You see, I was the witch that activated your powers. I trained you, then I wiped your memory. Killing me kills your only witness of the real truth, and you’ve done it without so much as a ‘hello’ back.”

Henry’s breathing went softer, faster. He could feel Cassia’s heartbeat from the grip he had on her wrist, and it was slowing rapidly. Out of his own desperation came pleas for help. “Ayara, we have to do something. We have to save her.”

“The only cure is within the labyrinth in the castle walls. To spare my life, you would risk sacrificing both of yours. It’s better off this way,” she breathed softly, “let me find my peace.”

Ayara had stayed silent, despite feeling an urge to defend herself against his remark. Not that he was wrong, in fact, he was very much right. She was the last person who should give an opinion on the matter, yet he’d still asked for hers. However, it seemed he didn’t actually want her opinion, despite choosing to ask her that question. It was pointless to figure out what was going on in his head, given she knew so little about him or what he was going through.

She’d stayed by that tree long after he had left, simply lost in thought. She only stirred when there wasn’t any light but light given by the stars, hardly enough for her to see much of what was around her. It would be best for her to get some sleep, except she wasn’t fond of entering the cabin again. Henry had seemed not too pleased with her presence, and she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t the most appealing source of company, even to herself. Instead, she wandered through the trees around the cabin, attempting to find one with branches that could keep her safe above the ground. Many creatures likely wandered these mountains, and she wasn’t all too fond of meeting any of them, particularly the ones that were hungry.

Eventually she located an oak tree off of the trail, stunted and warped by the wind, but with several branches that seemed sturdy enough to sit on. How she spotted it was a wonder, likely just luck that she wandered in the correct direction. She pulled herself into a branch high enough off the ground, settling herself against the trunk. It wasn’t particularly the most comfortable spot, the fabric of her outfit occasionally getting caught in various splinters of wood as she attempted to get somewhat comfortable in the small space. Yet it would work for a few hours of rest, given that was likely all she could get. She was a light sleeper, and the slightest sounds would awaken her. For whatever reason, the dark had her more on edge than anything else. If anything attacked, she wouldn’t know of its existence unless it made a sound. Even then, she wouldn’t know if it was friend or foe.

Ayara awoke several times throughout her attempts at getting sleep, whether to stop herself from falling from the branch or because of the call of some animal. When the sound that awoke her was footsteps, she was quick to follow the sound. She could tell it was Henry, simply from the way he seemed bewilderingly lost and was stumbling about. It was amusing to watch him fail to find the way back to the castle, only getting more and more lost as time passed. It was simply entertaining to her, though she gave up on following him some time later as it became clear he was only moving in circles. She drew away, setting against a tree as she awaited his inevitable loop back. Yet he never seemed to loop back, her already on-edge nerves convincing her that something was wrong. So she searched for him, having little luck. Until she heard the distant click of crossbows being loaded, then proceeded to be momentarily blinded by an explosion of light.

Even before her eyes had readjusted to the dark, she darted towards the fading light, a dagger in her hand. The blade was sent flying through the air before she got the chance to analyze the scene, her movements coming to a sudden halt whilst she was still in the shadows. The reactions that followed her actions were not what she expected, the reality dawning on her a little too late. She’d thrown a poison dagger, one she usually saved for targets who she figured would be difficult to kill. Given it seemed that the woman was another witch, however rare that was, it had been her first choice of weapon. It was simply what she’d expect someone to use to kill her, if they were tasked with doing so.

Everything seemed to slowly come to her awareness, from the dagger now embedded in the chest of the witch, to the rage and pain that seemed to flood off of Henry. It seemed the two knew each other, meaning she’d likely attacked a friend. The woman seemed to also know her, having greeted her before she’d made her presence known, before the dagger had found its mark. It was a puzzling situation to the assassin, having no memory of the woman, nor the name that the prince had used to address her. As far as she knew, she’d never encountered another magic user besides herself.

She didn’t trust the explanation Cassia gave, though it could give a reason as to why she had no memory of her despite the woman seeming to know her. She was simply stuck in place, searching her mind in an attempt to dredge up memories that seemed to be there but yet weren’t at the same time. Only the slightest bit of familiarity surrounded what had been said while no reason made itself present. As far as she was aware, she had no reason to trust the woman or to keep her alive besides the anguish that the prince seemed to feel and the regret she felt for waiting before acting. She buried the emotion beneath whatever rock she hid all the rest, keeping her distance from the scene as it seemed unlikely they’d want her to move any closer.

Only when Henry requested her assistance did she step closer, silent as always. She refused to look at either of their faces, examining the wound. They needed to stop the bleeding, a task she couldn’t tackle without first removing the blade. Except it wasn’t the safest place to do so, not without attracting whatever wild animals were in the area and hadn’t already noticed the smell of blood. They’d need to move her, carefully, without making the wound worse. A task she couldn’t handle alone, though she was fairly certain Henry would assist, simply because it would be to help his friend. None of her magic could really help her here besides sealing the wound once the dagger was removed. She couldn’t heal the poison, something the witch seemed fully aware of.

“I need you to help me carry her. I would try and help her here but it's too dangerous, so we’d have to take her to the cabin. Just be careful with moving her so that you don’t make the wound worse.” Ayara kept her voice calm, kneeling down to carefully prop her up and drape one of Cassia’s arms over her shoulders. She waited for Henry to do the same, steadily bringing herself to her feet once he did.

She started to move at a steady pace, not wanting to move faster for fear of causing further injury. They were nearly back to the cabin when she chose to speak again, having been debating whether anything she said would be handled well. “I’m sorry.” She tried to make her tone gentle, uncertain whether she actually succeeded. Sure, the statement was barely a statement, but she wasn’t quite sure what else to say. Any other response she could think of was simply an excuse, or some way for her to defend her actions. Sometimes it was easier to just be simple and brief than trying to force a more meaningful statement.

Henry’s arms ached by the time they got Cassia back to the cabin and into the bed, though the adrenaline had taken his focus away from that and towards all of the thoughts and emotions that pulsed through his veins, that reminded him he was still alive. Ayara sought answers? He realized that was why she must have agreed to protect him, because someone in the castle had promised her something she couldn’t attain in any other way. He realized that he knew very little about her. She was hard to read, and even harder to get to open up. He wondered if he would ever be able to trust her, if he would ever truly be able to open up to her without receiving the same in return.

His mind wandered further. Cassia knew Ayara? Of all of the people in their province, these two knew each other, the two people most responsible for protecting his life? He wondered what Cassia wanted with Ayara. He knew the woman, she would never lie, and especially not about a matter so grave. Her honesty was one of her defining traits. It had once been terrifying, it had been blunt, but his initial feelings had faded and had been replaced with expectation and resistance.

Ayara apologized. He wasn’t even sure how to receive that in a graceful way in that moment. She had been doing her job, and if she had been a true threat, he wouldn’t feel nearly so disturbed or angry. In fact, he’d be indebted to her. He took a deep breath, wordlessly studying her expression for a moment. He sighed softly, releasing the tension in his shoulders. “We’ll talk later.”

The present came and went, replaced with the ‘later’ Henry had referred to in his moment of anguish beside a dying witch. She explained to Ayara that if she sealed the wound, she would die instantly, so Henry worked dutifully to address the wound without magic. It felt useless compared to the power he knew the women in the cabin possessed. Once Cassia was settled in a fashion that the prince felt comfortable with, his attention re-focused on the younger woman. She looked tired, almost in a childishly sleepy way. His expression softened after laying eyes on her, but he gestured to the chaise lounge across the room from Cassia, wanting to talk. The fire he had built lit the room up in a warm, cozy way despite the dull ache in the back of his mind that reminded him of the impending doom that was to fall upon the castle. “Sit with me?”

Once he reached the chair, he sat down and took a deep breath. “You asked me earlier why I was interested in your magic, and I barely answered your question. Ironically, it quite ties into how I know Cassia. She trained someone I loved very dearly to practice magic similar to the kind you practice.” His gaze dropped to the floor, his head hung in what almost felt to be tangible pain. It lingered in the air. “Talking about what happened to her won’t change anything, but I don’t think I will be able to coexist with you if I can’t trust you. And I can’t trust you if I don’t try. I just thought you should know.” A melancholic smile manifested on his features as he glanced across the room to where the witch was resting in the bed. “Since Svera-” he paused, the implication answering any lingering questions, “-Cassia has been there for me in any circumstance. She has saved my life many times, and always seems to be there when I need her most.” He turned to look the woman beside him square in the eye, his expression gentle but firm. “I will not let her die, Ayara. Enough people already will.”

Ayara stood to the side of the room as Henry treated the witch’s wounds, frustrated that she could do nothing to assist. What was the point of this so-called magic if she could only use it to help herself, and never anyone else? It was an irritating matter, particularly when she was attempting to undo a mistake that had been made by her, one that made her feel fairly useless. The feeling of uselessness wasn't new to her and it wasn't something she was fond of. Many times it seemed that all she was good at was killing, something that seemed to be confirmed in this very situation. In truth, it felt useless to feel useless. It was an overly confusing idea, something her already partially asleep brain didn’t want to comprehend.

She’d been worn out enough after being wounded and fighting earlier that day, and that was before having to drag an injured woman up a mountain. Usually she could live happily with minimal sleep, but apparently not on this particular date. It was more annoying than anything else, the largest of the problems being a simple foggy feeling that hovered over her consciousness. At one point she found herself stifling a yawn, trying to keep her senses as awake as possible. A task that would be easier if she was able to move about. However, Henry had stated that he’d like to speak with her, for a reason she could take several guesses at, from the dying witch to the fate of the kingdom at the base of the mountain.

Her attention drew itself back to Henry as he moved from Cassia’s side, glancing at the chaise as he gestured to it. She followed behind him, seating herself next to him. As he spoke she was silent, letting him say what he needed to say. Whatever curiosity she had about the other witch he mentioned was cut off, coming to the conclusion that it was a topic she didn’t have the right to ask about, especially with how little they trusted each other. Trust was something they’d need to have if they were going to be in each other's presence for the foreseeable future, as he had stated, though the idea wasn’t appealing to her. She’d have to try and trust him in return, an obstacle she’d have to try and get herself past despite her distaste for it. Trusting someone meant many things, most of which she didn’t like.

Ayara had held his gaze, looking away after a moment to watch the fire as she thought through her words before she said anything. If she wanted answers, a desire that felt completely unwarranted to her many times, she’d have to help keep Cassia alive. A task she’d have to do anyways if they were going to trust each other at all. It still wasn’t a mission that appealed to her, given it involved returning to the castle. For all they knew it could be absolute chaos down there, or it could be as calm as it had seemed when they left. There were too many unknowns for her to feel comfortable returning, yet she was still going to either way.

She let out a sigh before speaking, returning her gaze to Henry. “Alright. So we go back to the castle and find the cure that Cassia mentioned.” Trusting him meant she had to trust Cassia, leaving her to cut out the ‘if’s’ that tried to work their way into her words. “I’d suggest that I go alone except I presume you wouldn’t agree with that plan. Besides, it’s likely you know more about the inner workings of the castle than I do. Particularly how to get in and out quickly.”

Despite the uncertainty surrounding the task, she could make it work. Somehow, she’d find some way to get the cure that they needed to find without anyone else nearly dying. She just didn’t know how to do that yet. She wouldn’t know how to do that until they got to the castle, when she’d have limited time to figure everything out. Going into this situation practically blind, with little clue as to how much or how little had happened sense they departed was far from what she preferred. Yet while she felt as displeased as she did with the idea, she’d still do it, simply because she said she would and she owed it to Henry to at least try. She was the reason Cassia was dying, so it was only right that she tried to fix the mistake she’d made.

She had agreed to get the cure and bring Henry along with her. He could have kissed her he was so happy, or perhaps it was relief. Yet, she was still emotionless. Cold. Distant. She hadn’t said anything about Svera. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t said anything about much of what he had said. He’d looked her in the eye, he knew she was listening, she just hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t expected to be comforted or to be doted over, but he felt almost ignored. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to trust this woman, but he wanted to try. He just wished she could make it a bit easier on him, something he was quite convinced he would never see.

…

He was home. Back in his study, the most glorious place in the entire universe. It still smelled of books and rain and all of his favorite things. He was back here on urgent duty, but even so, he couldn’t help but take a look at everything. He felt closer to himself here, more at peace. It still smelled the way he had left it only a day prior, it still looked the way he had left it too. Sadly, he realized that this might be the last time he ever saw this place if things were to go south. Yet, he had hope, and he had the gusto and the determination to stay and fight. If he had to, he would gain Ayara’s trust and then kill her if it meant saving his kingdom from destruction, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to. She was much more skilled than he at fighting, and more stubborn too, he imagined. He wanted her to be on his side, but nothing was off the table when it came to the future.

Henry wasted away several moments in his study, dressed very regally after finding some clothing tucked away in a dresser drawer. His clothing demanded the respect he deserved, and he wondered briefly if Ayara had had any luck in either of her two missions. The first mission had been to find the cure, and the second had been to find clothing suitable for a ball. As luck would have it, his father was being forced against his will into a welcome dinner for the representatives from several of the other provinces, ones that both men felt they would have to be plain stupid to trust. They had been after the D’Olivier crown for longer than both men had been alive, for their bloodline seemed the only competent enough to keep a kingdom afloat. Everyone was after this kingdom for the wealth, the power, and the glory, but there had yet to be a man or kingdom victorious.

Having yet to find his guardian, Henry assimilated into a small crowd of guests. It was mainly older, harsher male figures and their beautiful, young wives. Henry was certain their bodies had stories to tell about the wickedness of the men here, but the thought was nauseating so he tried to turn it off. He accepted a goblet off a tray and consumed the contents after properly inspecting the glass, trying to ensure his safety without looking too obvious about it. If there wasn’t a target on his back before, paranoia and individuality would certainly create one. He placed the glass back down on a nearby table, walking around to fill idle time. He was fairly convinced she hadn’t gotten any further in her search for the cure than she had been when he had parted ways with her, which was unsettling. He didn’t want to assume the worst because he didn’t think he could take the thought of being alone in the world again. Ayara was his security and losing her would be a massive blow to his sanity. If she were hurt or killed, he might as well be dead, too.

Ayara’s search for the cure had been painfully unsuccessful, having been unable to even enter the labyrinth in which Cassia claimed it was hidden. Guards were posted nearly everywhere, both inside and outside of the castle. The amount of security would be concerning if there weren’t so many high ranked guests. Any of which would be a valuable target. Except her companion and herself were likely the most wanted of them all, given Henry was the heir who was meant to be missing, and she was the assassin who’d probably killed at least one person connected to each of the men attending that ball.

She felt vulnerable wandering the halls, having been forced to take off her mask and wear a fancy gown that heavily restricted her movements. There was a long list of reasons why she hated this plan, most of which involving the ball. Bad memories were one of them, ones she’d rather not dredge up from the pit in which she’d buried them. Balls were meant to be fun, at least according to the upper classes. They were simply an omen of death to her, and to those that found themselves targeted during such events. People lowered their guards, drank too much. They felt safe in those ornate ballrooms, surrounded by both allies and enemies. From the perspective of her job, they were perfect. To someone trying to get in and out as quickly as possible while avoiding danger, they were essentially the opposite.

Her luck was running out, having ventured too far into the castle for a guest to make since. It wasn’t long before a guard did take notice of her, promptly faking a look of confusion and almost childlike innocence despite the panic racing through her. “Do you know where the ballroom is? I stepped out for a breath of fresh air and got distracted by some of the paintings on the walls. Must not have watched where I was going and I can’t quite figure out how to get back.”

“It's back the other way. I’ll escort you there, the halls can be confusing.” The guard's gaze had softened, something Ayara felt herself relieved by. She wasn’t eager to try and fight in this outfit she’d been stuck wearing, especially not when any guards nearby would surely notice a commotion. As the guard had stated, he led her to the ballroom, leaving once she’d entered the room after expressing her thanks.

Now that she was stuck in the ballroom she searched for the prince, figuring it would be best to wait until later to reattempt her search. It wasn’t ideal, but it was simply the safer course of options. She spotted him after some searching, making her way over to him as indirectly as she could manage. She’d fallen in pace beside him as he walked about, trying to not look around too much at the other people in the room. “There's an unseemly amount of guards about. They don’t seem to want anyone being too curious. Not sure when they’ll move, if they even will.”

Looking normal was something she found herself struggling with at the moment, her nerves frayed from her worry about a number of factors. Of all the places to be with the person she was meant to be protecting, a room full of people who wanted them dead wasn’t the ideal plan. It was at this point that she regretted letting Henry come along. If she’d known there’d been a ball, she would have forced him to stay at that cabin. He’d probably find some way to be here nonetheless, but at least she would have tried. Plus, there were far too many people for her to feel comfortable. She definitely wasn’t a social butterfly, preferring to stay far away from crowds except on the rare occasion they were useful.

“It does seem you are getting your wish from earlier. You said you wanted to go to a ball, and here we are.” Ayara gave him a small smile, using the excuse of her turning her head to get an idea of how people were spread out. She stayed silent as a group of people passed, trying to pay them no attention. “I don’t like this. It's… too crowded for my tastes.” Knowing that at least someone in the room was unlikely to kill her was a comfort, though she was yet to be certain about that. She was trying to trust him, though it was particularly hard to do. Especially when they’d only known each other so long.