Chapter 466: The Morning Goodbye

The morning air carried the sharp scent of damp earth and woodsmoke as the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the orphanage courtyard in pale gold. The gates stood propped open, where a plain, heavy-wheeled black carriage sat waiting, two draft horses stamping their hooves softly against the gravel.

On the porch, a small crowd had gathered to see Philia off.

Little Toby was clutching the hem of Philia’s trousers with both hands, his knuckles white, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Nora stood just behind him, holding a small cloth-wrapped parcel of fresh bread and dried fruit she’d woken up at four in the morning to bake, while Libbie leaned quietly against the doorframe, trying to look brave despite the tremor in her chin.

Philia dropped to one knee on the cold stone steps, bringing himself down to eye level with the younger children. He reached out, gently prying Toby’s small fingers from his coat, and held the boy’s cold hands in his own warm palms.

"Hey now," Philia said softly, his voice impossibly tender, a stark contrast to the cold composure he wore at palace. "No tears. You’re the big boy around here while I’m gone, remember? You have to help Nora look after the garden."

Toby sniffled loudly, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Are you coming back for the harvest festival?"

Philia smiled, his eyes softening as he reached up to ruffle Toby’s messy hair. "I’ll come back so fast you won’t even realize I’ve been gone that long. I promise."

He stood up and turned to Nora, taking the warm food parcel from her hands. "Thank you, Nora. For everything."

"You take care of yourself out there in the palace, Philia," Nora murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she patted his arm. "Don’t go skipping meals, and don’t let those noble walk all over you."

"I won’t," Philia promised softly.

Valen stood near the carriage door, his cloak pulled tight against the morning chill, tossing the last leather travel bag into the boot. He gave the driver a quiet nod before turning back toward the porch. He didn’t say much, he never did with the children, but he placed a heavy, reassuring hand on Libbie’s shoulder as he passed, a gesture that spoke volumes in place of words.

With one final round of quiet goodbyes and lingering embraces, Philia climbed into the carriage cabin. Valen stepped up right behind him, shutting the wooden door with a heavy, hollow thud that cut off the soft chatter of the courtyard.

The driver cracked the reins, and with a slow, rhythmic jolt, the carriage rolled forward, its iron-rimmed wheels grinding across the gravel as they left the orphanage behind.

"Bye, Philia!"

"Come back soon!"

"Don’t forget us!"

A few of the children ran after the carriage for several steps, waving their hands until the wheels carried them too far to keep up. Nora called after him one last time, reminding him not to skip breakfast, while Libbie simply waved with both hands pressed together beneath her chin.

Inside the cabin, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The warmth and soft safety of the orphanage vanished, replaced by the suffocating weight of the reality waiting for them back at the palace.

Philia sat back against the leather seat, resting his head against the wood paneling as he stared out the window, watching the familiar wooden fences and rolling green fields slip away.

Valen sat across from him, his posture stiff, his dark eyes fixed entirely on Philia’s face. He stayed quiet for the first few miles, letting the soft rocking fill the space between them. But as the dirt road gave way to cobblestone and the tall stone spires of the city came into view over the treeline, Valen finally broke his silence.

"I still don’t like it," Valen said, his voice low, grimy, and dead serious. "We’re heading straight back into the lion’s den. We should have stayed another week."

Philia didn’t turn his head from the window. "We couldn’t, Valen. We’ve been away from the palace for three days already. If we stayed any longer, His Highness probably would have sent his personal guards down here under the pretense of ’checking on my health.’ The last thing we need is his men snooping around and finding out what we’ve been doing."

Valen let out a low, frustrated breath through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know. I just... I hate leaving them, and I hate where we’re going."

"It’s the only way to keep them safe," Philia replied quietly. He finally turned his gaze away from the glass, looking across at Valen. "His Highness’s eyes are everywhere. As long as he’s focused on us at the palace, he leaves the orphanage alone."

Valen leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his face shifting into a grim mask. "Then we need to establish the ground rules again before we pull through those main gates."

Philia sighed lightly. "Valen, please..."

"No, Lord Philia, listen to me," Valen interrupted, his tone leaving zero room for argument. He reached out, grabbing Philia’s arm with a grip that was firm, grounding, and protective. "The Crown Prince will grow suspicious if he finds out something went wrong during your visit. He’s already looking for a reason to dig deeper."

Valen leaned closer, his eyes locking onto Philia’s with fierce intensity.

"I can’t be by your side twenty-four hours a day," Valen warned softly, his voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "When we’re at the palace, there are going to be times when His Highness pulls you into his study alone, or when he corners you in the corridors after dinner."

Philia remained silent, his breath catching slightly in his throat.

"If you get cut, if you scratch yourself, if an old wound opens up, if you bleed even a single drop, you do not let him near you," Valen instructed tightly. "I don’t care what excuse you have to make. Throw a fit, knock a glass over, yell for a servant, or run out of the room. But you do not let His Highness touch you."

He knew Valen was right. He couldn’t let Yerel get too close to him right now. It was too dangerous, not just for him, but for Yerel and everyone caught in the middle.

"I know," Philia whispered, his throat feeling dry as bone. "I won’t let him near me."

"Good," Valen said, his hand tightening slightly on Philia’s arm before finally letting go.

Philia turned his face back toward the window. Outside, the grand stone gates of the upper estate district were getting closer with every turn of the wheels. The quiet country road had disappeared behind them, replaced by wider streets, neat rows of stone houses, and the occasional carriage passing in the opposite direction. Beyond the gates waited the estate, the court, and all the careful smiles and watchful eyes they had spent the last three days avoiding.

Philia’s fingers curled tighter against his palm.

The quiet peace of the morning was officially over.