Chapter 18 - Sleeping King

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Chapter 18

 

 

"No—you mustn't! You mustn't take me outside!"

 

From his upside-down view, Fisé saw Aurelian's cloak, the little one-sleeved desk he always used, the familiar chair, the rusted iron bars, the door now wide open—and beyond it, his room.

 

Unwilling though he was to admit it, seventeen years in a place could shape the way one thought. Of course it felt like his room.

 

There was no time to feel anything about leaving the cell. The hallway was short, and already Aurelian was descending the stairs.

 

The iron bars disappeared behind them—just as Fisé began to feel the warmth of Aurelian's body.

 

The pressure against his abdomen and waist steadily radiated heat, and the strength in Aurelian's shoulder and the firmness of his supporting arm made Fisé tremble.

 

He's grown even larger than that man. He's not a child anymore. He's… already so much a man.

 

The spiral staircase seemed to spin endlessly. Fisé clung to Aurelian.

 

He told himself it was for safety—that he might be dropped otherwise—but in truth, he simply wanted to feel him. It wasn't a carnal desire. It was an attempt to overwrite the memory of a man he loathed, whose touch still haunted his body.

 

Looking back, the last one to touch him—the only one to touch him—had been the king.

 

He and Aurelian had only ever touched hands. They had never held each other like this, with such closeness.

 

He thought he had cast that part of himself away—that fragile self, the one who could be hurt by a man like that. And yet… his body trembled. Just the memory was enough to make him nauseous.

 

That loathsome sensation… If I want to rid myself of it—if I want to stop this trembling forever—then maybe this is the only way.

 

If he could overwrite that cursed past by imprinting a new memory—one of Aurelian's touch—then maybe the only trace of human warmth left on his body would belong to him.

 

Just a simple embrace. That would be enough. He didn't need anything more. He only wanted to touch him with care, fingers gently yet firmly intertwined.

 

He wanted to remember Aurelian with every sense he had—so that he could forget everyone else, forever.

 

And somehow, he felt that if he was held tightly enough—so tightly his bones might creak—then on the other side of that embrace, he would find a morning bathed in fragrant white roses.

 

"Fisé! Get on the horse! First, we'll head to the Eleria Palace!"

 

"…Eleria… the summer palace?"

 

Having descended the stairs without so much as gasping for breath, Aurelian carried Fisé over to the horse.

 

His steed—second only to the king's in all of Twydal—was supposed to be a magnificent white horse. But the one waiting for them now was a massive black stallion. Its sheer size made Fisé wonder if it didn't have elephant blood running through its veins—its entire body looked like a mountain of muscle.

 

"Fisé, grab onto the saddle. Alright? I'm letting go now."

 

Transferred from Aurelian's left shoulder to the saddle of the black horse, Fisé didn't resist. He obeyed without argument.

 

He tried to adjust his posture—but first, he needed to change his clothes. His garments, usually draped like a dress, shifted into more masculine legwear. Fisé couldn't create fabric like the smaller fairies could, but he could alter its shape and color within the limits of mass. His once pale clothing had now turned shadow-dark—unconsciously chosen, in self-loathing.

 

"This isn't your usual steed, is it? Did you prepare a black horse just for this escape?"

 

"Yeah, I guess that's how it turned out. I didn't originally plan to flee tonight… I'd actually been secretly raising him, so that when you were finally freed, I could take you around openly. So yes, he is a beloved steed—smart and dependable. I had no idea you'd be so light, Fisé. I always wanted to take you far away, the two of us riding together."

 

Aurelian mounted the horse in one smooth motion, his foot catching the stirrup with ease—but a low groan escaped him a moment later.

 

His right hand, wrapped in a scarf, must have been screaming in pain.

 

"Aurelian… your hand—it must be a terrible burn, isn't it? You shouldn't be gripping the reins like that. Please, let me treat it first. Even if I can't heal it entirely, I can at least lessen the pain."

 

"If you're worried about me, then please—just come with me. That's the best cure I could ask for."

 

Still unwilling to listen, Aurelian took Fisé's wrist with his left hand.

 

He guided him gently to the saddle's edge and then turned toward the black steed. "I'm counting on you—slowly, to start."

 

The horse obeyed at once, moving into a steady walk, choosing a cleared path through the snow just as commanded.

 

Fisé could sense from the moment he mounted that this horse was, indeed, intelligent and dependable. Perhaps it was because he was a fairy—or perhaps it was something anyone might feel—but from its enormous body, he could sense the steed's calm, grounding rhythm.

 

To his shaken soul, it offered remarkable stability.

 

And its warmth, too, radiated through his legs, wrapping him in quiet reassurance.

 

There's no sign of pursuit. If Aurelian truly stole the key after clashing with the king, then soldiers should be surrounding us already. Why this strange lull…?

 

Perched atop the black horse that blended into the night, Fisé scanned their surroundings once more.

 

As before, the scene was still and subdued. The grand rose gardens that now bore white blossoms for oil, the smaller garden left behind on the castle's northern side, the passageway leading to the northern gate—everything lay in silence.

 

There were few lights. It was the same lonely view he'd always seen from his tower window.

 

"Fisé, you told me you've never ridden a horse, right?"

 

Aurelian's voice brushed against his ear, making it momentarily warm. His breath, a pale puff of white in the cold, passed into view for an instant. Though not as close as when Fisé had been carried, their closeness was still palpable.

 

"Yes," he replied softly, and Aurelian leaned in and whispered, "We're going to ride now—bite down so you don't bite your tongue."

 

Unlike the grand front gates, the north gate was small—no different from the gates of any common estate. It remained open for the workers in the rose fields to come and go. But though the gate was left ajar, guards were always stationed nearby. If they were to escape, they had to approach in silence until the very last moment, and then make a break for it.

 

It was the only way. After all, Aurelian was trying to smuggle out the captive Rose King—even a prince wouldn't be waved through without question.

 

"Fisé, here we go. We have to break through before the guards notice."

 

Aurelian's tension was palpable, pressing against Fisé's back as if to urge both him and the horse forward. He wasn't just convincing Fisé—he was trying to steel himself, too.

 

Fisé, who had been caught and dragged back during previous escape attempts, felt a shift deep in his chest. Something about this time was different.

 

He didn't know why the king had yet to send soldiers, or why no one had come after them yet. But on this hushed night, beneath a sky absent of pursuit, he sensed no hand rising to stop them. It could all collapse in a heartbeat, and still—he felt it wouldn't.

 

There was no reason for this feeling. Nothing to support it.

 

Only the simple truth: Aurelian was here.

 

With him, Fisé felt as though they could run forever and never be caught.

 

He clenched his jaw so tightly for so long, that even after the horse had slowed, he forgot to ease the pressure on his back teeth.

 

They had passed through the north gate without incident—but what had happened afterward, Fisé couldn't clearly recall.

 

The guards had likely stood frozen in disbelief, not even sure what they had just witnessed.

 

Aurelian had thrown his cloak around Fisé, dressed entirely in black and nearly vanishing into the night. To an untrained eye, it probably looked like nothing more than a seventeen-year-old prince sneaking out for mischief on the eve of his birthday. No alarm was raised.

 

Or perhaps they had chased after them in haste—only to be left behind, unable to match their speed.

 

They weren't safe yet, but at least for now, no one seemed to be following.

 

"Fisé, I'm sorry… That was a wild start. I must've startled you."

 

"No. I've ridden in carriages, and I've read books on horseback riding. I knew what to expect."

 

Aurelian's apologetic tone was met with a slightly prideful reply from Fisé.

 

In truth, it had been terrifying—even for a fairy, being swept deep into a dark forest while clinging to a galloping saddle was an ordeal. There had been no time to process what was happening to his body; he had simply held on with a pounding heart, praying not to fall. In summer, perhaps it might have been bearable. But it was autumn now, and Twydal spent most of the year buried under snow. Though the sky had stayed clear tonight, nearly every path they rode was blanketed in white.

 

"Your heartbeat… it's really fast. Mine too."

 

"I'm only concerned about whether we'll be pursued."

 

The truth—that it was the speed and wind, wholly unfamiliar, that frightened him—was something he couldn't admit aloud.

 

He hated how hollow his own words sounded. And yet, in every way, he was reminded just how little he knew.

 

He had been imprisoned at just over two years old. It wasn't his fault, he told himself. But the cause of his captivity—that had been his own doing.

 

He had studied obsessively so that he might one day match Aurelian in intellect, never wanting to be the one who lacked. For fourteen years, he had devoured books, spoken with confidence, pretended he had always known more than he did.

 

Once, it had been enough to hide behind that mask.

 

But Aurelian, living out in the world, had long since surpassed him. Fisé knew it. He had watched from his tower window as the boy rode and trained, learning swordplay under the open sky.

 

It made him feel left behind. Envious, sometimes. But more than anything, he had felt proud.

 

"This is Eleria Palace ahead," Aurelian said. "We're almost there. The ground is rough, so don't let go."

 

 

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