Chapter 126: Cry On My Shoulder

Aina

The death of the king, the announcement of Princess Molly marrying the Rogue King, and the sudden fall of all the major southern packs had left the entire world shaken.

It felt as though only yesterday everything had been peaceful. As though rogues were treated as nothing more than a joke, monsters capable of nothing. But now, after the rogues had brought down two kings and the entire southern territory in the span of a single week, the raw power of the rogue faction was impossible to ignore. Gone were the jokes. Gone were the sneers. Rogues were feared.

And with fear came deep, suffocating mourning.

The entire capital was dressed in black, grieving a king whose body would never be recovered. All they had buried deep within the royal crypts was King Theron’s head. Across the empire, flowers carpeted the streets, and a mandatory two-hour mourning session was enforced for every citizen.

At Moonside Academy, all classes had been brought to a screeching halt, and roaming the hallways was strictly forbidden. Most students spent their time locked inside their rooms, only venturing out when the meal halls opened for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Aina sat quietly on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the popcorn ceiling. The dorm felt entirely too small, pressing down on her chest.

Yes, she had technically buried the hatchet with the princes. They hadn’t done anything to her recently, perhaps because their fathers were dead, or perhaps because the sheer scale of the tragedy had broken something inside them.

Only Theo and Vance had traveled to attend the funeral, while Keali had remained behind at the academy. But now that the brothers were back, the atmosphere in the suite felt entirely wrong. Everything felt off. It felt as though invisible, miserable ghosts were roaming the corridors.

Aina wanted to leave the dorm just to escape the oppressive silence, but roaming was forbidden. She had no idea what to do with herself, and the crushing stillness was slowly driving her insane.

I can’t do this anymore, Aina thought, pushing herself up off the mattress and swinging her legs over the side.

She couldn’t just sit here doing nothing. She felt a desperate need to keep her hands busy. Stepping out of her room, she found the hallway completely dark, not a single light turned on, and the heavy curtains still drawn over the windows. All the doors to the other rooms were firmly shut. Even though she hadn’t seen the princes, she knew they were locked inside their rooms, drowning in misery.

She walked all the way to the kitchen area, staring blankly at the counter. What can I possibly do to make this atmosphere less depressing? she wondered. Maybe I should just leave it depressing. They just lost their fathers. They are supposed to be in mourning. But this is insane... are they even eating? Why do I even care? They’ve been terrible people to me. But... they didn’t deserve this. It has been a genuinely terrible week for them.

Aina thought back, remembering the horrific reality of their current situation: their oldest brother was trapped in a comatose slumber; two of their fathers were dead; and their beloved sister was being forced to marry a wicked, murderous madman. It was a nightmare.

Without overthinking it and before her common sense could talk her out of it, Aina decided to bake something. Baking always calmed her nerves. She was actually quite good at it, having cooked and baked for herself since she was six years old.

She opened the small pantry of the kitchenette and found a bag of flour, sugar, baking powder, and a stash of chocolate chips. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she plugged in her earphones, hit shuffle on her playlist, and let the music drown out the heavy silence of the suite.

She cracked eggs into a glass bowl, whisked the sugar and butter together until it was pale and fluffy, and folded in the dry flour with practiced precision. Within an hour, the entire suite smelled richly of warm chocolate chip muffins and spiced cappuccino muffins. She had baked two full batches, arranging them neatly on a wire rack to cool.

Standing over the cooling pans, Aina crossed her arms. Now what? Do I actually take these to them? What am I supposed to do with a mountain of muffins? Should I just bring some to their rooms? They haven’t stepped foot outside since they got back from the funeral.

She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. You know what? I’ll just bring a plate over. It isn’t weird. It doesn’t mean anything. It just means I’m a normal human being with basic compassion.

Using a small ceramic plate, she piled up four warm muffins and walked quietly down the dark hallway until she reached Vance’s door.

She knocked.

Nothing.

She knocked again, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

Sighing, Aina gripped the doorknob. Being polite didn’t work, so I’m going in.

She turned the handle, pushed the heavy door open a crack, and peeked her head inside. The entire room was pitch black, the curtains shut tight against the daylight.

Vance was sitting alone on the edge of his unmade bed. He didn’t look like a proud royal prince; he looked entirely hollowed out, staring down at something resting in his lap.

"Oh... hi," Aina murmured, feeling slightly intrusive.

Vance didn’t even turn his head. His voice was flat, devoid of all life. "What do you want?"

Aina stepped further into the dark room, holding the ceramic plate tightly against her chest. "I baked some muffins... I accidentally made way too many, and I wondered if you wanted one."

"No," Vance answered instantly, straight to the point.

Aina glanced toward his lap, her curiosity getting the better of her. "What are you looking at over there?" she asked, walking closer and setting the plate down gently onto the wooden nightstand beside his bed.

"None of your business," Vance muttered.

Aina leaned slightly to the side to get a better look at what he was holding. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a hand-painted portrait of herself, her true self as the girl in the purple dress with wild, curly hair.

Oh, she thought, her heart skipping a beat.

Her first instinct was to turn around and sprint out of the room before he realized she recognized herself. But she stopped herself, her feet rooted to the floorboards.

"I know this is completely out of line," Aina said softly, her voice dropping all its usual sarcasm, "but... are you okay? If you need someone to talk to, I’m right here. People say I’m a very good listener."

Vance clenched his jaw, staring harder at the painting. "No, Travis. I don’t want to talk."

"You know, it’s actually healthy to talk," Aina pressed gently, taking a slow step closer to the bed.

"Dealing with a loss this massive—"

"Would you mind your own damn business?" Vance snapped, his voice cracking with sudden, raw fury. "I just want to be alone!"

"No, actually, I’m not going to do that," Aina said firmly.

Before he could protest, she sat right down on the edge of the mattress beside him.

Vance stiffened, violently pulling away as if her presence burned him.

"Look," Aina continued, keeping her voice steady, "I know you don’t like me, and I certainly haven’t made it a secret that I don’t like you. But communicating is a hell of a lot better than huddling up in the dark like a ghost. You lost your fathers, and your sister is being forced to marry a madman. You’re allowed to fall apart. You can tell me about it. No one else in this academy will talk to you thanks to you and your brothers, so... you can trust I will not tell."

Vance stared straight ahead, his chest rising and falling in shallow, jagged breaths. "I am not stricken by grief, Travis. You don’t understand anything." He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "I didn’t care about my fathers when they were still alive. And I still don’t care for them, I don’t care for Theron, and I certainly don’t care for Alaric. They can both rot in the dirt for all I care. It doesn’t bother me."

Aina blinked, taken aback by the harshness in his voice.

A single, thick tear broke free from Vance’s eye, tracking a slow, hot path down his pale cheek. "What’s irritating..." his voice wavered, the cold mask finally shattering completely "...is that they died before they ever saw me become something they could be proud of."

He covered his face with his hands, his broad shoulders shaking.

"My fathers and I... we were never on great terms," Vance choked out, the words spilling out of him like a broken dam. "They didn’t agree with the way I lived my life. They didn’t believe I had what it takes to be a suitable king of kings. I always believed I could be, but now... now I don’t think I am. And even if I prove I can be, they’ll never see it. So what’s even the point?"

Aina sat frozen beside him. For all her clever comebacks and insolent tongue, her mind went completely blank. She had no idea what to say to comfort a prince who had just confessed he didn’t mourn his fathers, but rather mourned their eternal disapproval.

Vance didn’t wait for her to answer. He kept talking, the guilt eating him alive from the inside out.

"You know... Molly marrying that evil bastard... none of that would have ever happened if I actually possessed some sort of real power," Vance whispered, his voice thick with self-loathing. "If I hadn’t wasted three years of my life playing around in this academy, hell, if I hadn’t wasted my entire life doing nothing of value, I would have been strong enough to stop the Rogue King. I would have been able to keep Molly from having to sell herself just to save the realm."

He gripped his hair in his fists, his fingers digging into his scalp. "If Malric was around, he would have done something. He always had a plan. He wouldn’t have sat around blindly while his own sister was handed over to a monster. I’m completely useless as a prince. No wonder I couldn’t even find my own fated mate..."

The dam broke completely. Vance stopped trying to hold it together, leaning forward as hot, heavy tears streamed down his face. He sobbed openly, the sound ragged and desperate in the quiet dark of the bedroom.

Overwhelmed by an unexpected wave of deep, aching sympathy, Aina didn’t hesitate. She shifted closer, wrapping her arm around his shaking shoulders and pulling him toward her.

Vance didn’t push her away. Instead, driven by pure instinct and utter exhaustion, he collapsed against her, burying his face in her shoulder as he cried.