"The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power."
In their desperate battle to survive the harsh aristocracy, the desire...
Dinner with the Ērmār was Hyunjin's least favorite part of the day.
The dismal quiet, the stifling tension—it felt as though every breath he took was incomplete. Ever on edge. Endlessly wary.
On this evening, however, the Sōrsānt had something to distract himself with. A new, untainted memory.
Flowers look good on you.
He had recalled those words over and over in his mind, watched that scene repeat endlessly throughout his lessons and meetings. Five simple words that seemed to unveil a part of his heart that he had thought long lost. A statement that filled him with so much warmth, he didn't know what to do with it.
He had found himself at once embarrassed and overjoyed. What had possessed you to say such a thing?
What was he to do for you to say it again?
The Ērmār placed her silverware over her plate with a soft clink, indicating the end of the dinner and bringing Hyunjin back to the realm of reality. He stood after his mother did, wordlessly pinning his gaze to his half-empty plate as she passed by him.
He anticipated the distancing clatter of her shoes, but instead, it stopped beside him.
"What is that in your hair?"
Hyunjin's shoulders went rigid at her icy question. He made sure to remove the flowers from his hair before leaving his training court. Had he missed one?
"An accident," he said, raising a hand to his hair. "You need not worry. I discarded it and made sure no one saw it."
He couldn't turn around to face the Ērmār, and he was glad he didn't have to meet her gaze. She would pierce through him and his blatant lie with cruel ease. He could at least feign some confidence this way.
The Ērmār scoffed after a beat of dubious silence, resuming her exit from the dining hall. "Go wash up. I do not want a repeat of this incident."
Right, Hyunjin sighed inwardly. The time he shared with you every day was a strange fantasy, and nothing more. Outside his training court, he was but a magicless, useless heir. If he were wiser, he would forget your kindness and seal its memory where he couldn't retrieve it. Perhaps even discard his magical studies.
But, the Sōrsānt found that he wasn't the wisest of men.
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