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I watch, curiosity piqued.Rosters for farmland shipments.Possibly records of how many humans are assigned to each field. That could prove valuable if I want to locate pockets of rebels. I step closer, but Xelith flicks a warning glance at me, as though telling me not to pry.

He takes the scrolls, flipping through them. The boy trembles under his scrutiny.

“Did you ensure every name is accounted for?” Xelith demands.

The boy nods rapidly. “Yes, my prince. I cross-checked with the merchant guild’s logs.”

Xelith grunts, rolling the scrolls. “Good.” Then, in a softer tone, “Now, get out of here.”

The boy bows so low I fear he’ll topple, then darts away, nearly colliding with a manicured hedge.

I arch a brow at Xelith once we’re alone again. “Farmland shipments?”

“Supplies, resources, everything that ensures Pyrthos runs smoothly,” he says, tucking the scrolls into a leather satchel at his belt. “Don’t worry. I’ll share if it becomes relevant.”

I snort. “So magnanimous. Did you bring me here just to watch you discipline your scribe?”

A faint smirk. “Not entirely. Walk with me.”

We continue down the winding path, the hush of the garden enveloping us. Magic-infused flowers shimmer in vibrant blues and purples, their stems occasionally pulsing as though alive. Aflicker of motion at the corner of my vision startles me—a tendril of vine shifting when I’m not looking. I blink, but it’s still again.

Xelith glances sidelong at me. “Nervous?”

“Hardly.” I force a scoff, though my skin prickles. This place feels saturated in arcane energies.

“I sense something stirring in the air,” he murmurs, stepping closer to a cluster of bell-shaped blossoms. He runs a gloved finger along one petal, and it glows faintly with violet luminescence. “Mana, perhaps. But it feels different.”

A strange flutter stirs in my chest.Could it be me?For the past day or so, I’ve experienced odd flashes—like the hallways shifting in and out of focus, or guards momentarily slack-jawed when I speak. I’ve chalked it up to exhaustion, trauma, or maybe illusions conjured by my resentful imagination.

But last night, I caught a guard spinning in place after I murmured a half-formed curse under my breath. As if he heard a command that no one else did. A chill sweeps through me.No. Don’t be foolish.

“Humans can’t sense mana like your kind,” I say, skirting the question.

He studies me carefully. “No. Typically they can’t.”

Our gazes lock. My throat tightens. Does he suspect something about these incidents? He’s too sharp to ignore them if they happen again.

We continue walking, our footsteps echoing on the cobbled path. A pair of fortress guards emerges from a side gate, crossing our path. They nod at Xelith but cast dark, wary looks at me. One guard’s gaze lingers on my face, a sneer tugging at his lips.

“Trouble, my prince?” the guard asks, eyes flicking between us.

“No,” Xelith replies smoothly. “Simply escorting my… companion through the gardens.”

The guard’s sneer deepens at the wordcompanion.My temper flares, and a biting retort bubbles in my throat. Before I can speak, a flicker of sensation radiates from my chest—like a jolt of heat mingled with a swirl of dizziness. My lips part, but no real words form, just a pulse of intangible force.

The guard’s eyes glaze over for a split second, mouth opening as though he’s been struck. His partner nudges him, frowning. “Hey, you all right?”

He blinks rapidly, stepping back in confusion. Then he clears his throat, face reddening. “S-sorry. Must be the heat.”

I stare, heart pounding.What was that?Xelith’s attention zeroes in on me, silver eyes narrowing.

“Is something wrong?” I say in a rush, desperate to feign ignorance.

His lips tighten. He doesn’t respond immediately, just waves the guards on. They hurry away, throwing uneasy glances over their shoulders.

My skin tingles with the aftershock of whatever just happened.Did I enthrall him, if only for a second?The very idea chills my blood.

Xelith steps closer, voice low. “Lysandra, what did you do?”