Sigil burst up. He was slow to react, still preparing for interference from outside forces. He didn’t think that the first blow would come from internal conflict.
The Vermouth Clan was on their side. They should understand how important his was. Aeryn attacking Theron like this and heavily injuring him was like forcing them to admit their loss before things could even kick off.
Sigil caught Theron’s flying form, trying to dissipate some of the damage. But there wasn’t much he could do about pure raw power outside of cushioning and slowing the deceleration. Plus, Aeryn’s cultivation was far beyond his own as well.
Aeryn was supposed to be there to deal with the bullies that Sigil couldn’t, not be one of them himself.
“Aeryn!” Sigil roared, his anger getting the best of him for a moment.
While Sigil seemed quite happy and cheerful most often, he was under as much pressure as anyone. He couldn’t afford for things to go wrong either.
He might not be the heir apparent yet, but his father’s success would directly translate to his own. If there was no Thistle Clan, what would he take over in the future? He would just be a fugitive on the run if he could keep his life at all.
Sigil honestly couldn’t believe how idiotic Aeryn was. What did he even think he was accomplishing here?!
“There will always be a price to pay for those who hurt my little sister. I don’t give a damn who you are,” Aeryn growled. “If you think I don’t understand your little political games and want to insult my intelligence like this, I’ll gladly take his head instead!”
Sigil was so baffled he didn’t even know what to say. By the time he regained some of his mind, he snapped.
“You fool! If he fails, your sister fails! Your family fails! Your sister won’t have wedding gowns prepared for her; she’ll have a coffin instead!”
“My Vermouth Clan doesn’t think so much,” Aeryn replied with a low rumble. “We settle accounts and we move by the weight of our hearts. When the time comes to deal with those things, I will be the first to stand in front of her. If someone wants to harm her, they will have to step over my dead body.”
There was simply no reasoning with him. Sigil was about to say more, but it was Theron who pressed a hand to his shoulder.
“That’s enough.”
There was a steadiness to Theron’s tone that belied the trembling in his chest.
Nothing was remotely light about this blow. If there was any saving grace, it was that the breaks were clean and didn’t puncture his lungs or flesh. But that didn’t mean the reverberating remains of the attack hadn’t ruptured some of his soft organs anyway.
Right now, it was even hard to breathe properly, let alone battle.
Still, he stood up straight.
Did he expect such a thing? No. Was he surprised? Also no.
“They need a handicap regardless,” Theron said lightly.
Sigil’s eyes narrowed.
Somewhere deep inside, he felt like he had never seen the real Theron, as though there was some thin veneer separating them. He was more sensitive to these things than even his father, because while Dean Thistle only saw pawns, Sigil saw people. ŕ𝐀₦Ŏ𝖇Ёᶊ
Logically speaking, these sort of arrogant words would only be said by Theron the character. So… why did it feel like this was the first time he was hearing the true Theron speak?
But more importantly than that… Theron had spoken so softly it was as though he was saying the words only for himself.
’He’s angry
It was odd. Sigil didn’t understand this either.
Theron wasn’t someone who got angry easily. At least the true Theron wasn’t.
Sigil looked from Theron and then to Aeryn in the distance. By the time he did so, Theron had already stabilized himself, standing to his full 5’6″ height.
He smoothed out the wrinkles in his robes, using his Water Mana and then quickly drying it just the same. Soon, it didn’t look like anything had changed.
Walking forward again, he cupped his fists and bowed to Aeryn.
“Greetings, brother-in-law. I have come to pick up my bride.”
Aeryn’s gaze flashed.
“That’s enough, Aeryn. Return.”
A gruff voice, even deeper and fuller than Aeryn’s, echoed. It wasn’t clear where it was coming from, but it felt distant.
Earl Vermouth.
The gates slowly opened and a palanquin carried by four women appeared. Each of them had boulder-like shoulders, and though their forms were still relatively slim and feminine, they had a hard edge to them that made one think of the military.
And yet, each one was dressed in a beautiful dress.
Theron walked up to the palanquin, the hidden, veiled form of Malaya within.
Ignoring the four women, he walked to its side. He could feel the dangerous auras coming from them, but there was an even greater depth of chilliness coming from him.
“Malaya.” Theron called out softly.
“Ah, yes, yes?” Malaya hurriedly turned toward Theron. “I’m sorry, it’s not very easy to see through this—the veil is thicker than any I’ve seen before.”
Theron smiled gently. “I’ve yet to see your face, but you look beautiful. Today, would you do me the honor of riding with me?”
The four women frowned.
“Ah… ride with you? Of course…”
Malaya didn’t know how to say no in the first place. If she did, she would have likely never gone on a date with Theron. But this time, she felt that it would be odd if she did say no.
Wouldn’t they be sharing a room tonight?
Her face flushed. For the first time, she was thankful for this heavy, thick veil.
She reached out a hand and Theron took it.
Malaya squealed, caught off guard as she was swept into Theron’s arms.
A harsh whistle filled the air and the unmoving steed rushed ahead.
Theron grabbed its reins, swinging onto its body as the first rain droplets fell from the skies.
“I know we have quite a number of guests watching from the shadows today. You will pretend as though you haven’t seen what just happened, though. And that’s fine by me. If you think that this is enough to defeat the number one cultivator beneath Silver Mancy, feel free to step forward.”
Theron stabilized Malaya in one arm, unsheathing a short sword with the other.
He swept a glance over Aeryn, the chilling light in his blue eyes unbelievably focused.
Was he pissed off? Yes.
He didn’t care if Aeryn wanted to protect his little sister, but standing in his way of retrieving his father’s blade… that was unacceptable.
He would remember this.
Theron kicked his horse and its hooves rose into the skies, a booming thunder echoing across the clouds.
The moment the hooves landed on the paved stone, they shot out into the distance.
…
“How arrogant.”
The sentiment was the same across distant buildings. However, the one who spoke this time was a certain Crown Prince.
By his side, there were several youths standing, each one with their heads lowered and their gazes measured.
One of them particularly stood out, though… the logo of the Obsidian Eclipse Sect hanging from their lapel in the form of a blackened moon eclipsing a violet sun.