Chapter 19 - Sleeping King

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Chapter 19

 

 

The forest path, which had seemed endless, was finally coming to an end.

 

Purple ribbons and ropes were tied to trees, stretched in a continuous line that circled the area—signaling royal property, strictly forbidden to trespass without permission.

 

Naturally, Aurelian didn't hesitate. Still astride his horse, he lifted the rope and ducked beneath it.

 

Beyond was more darkness, more forest. Though Aurelian had called it a palace, Fisé saw no structure yet. The snow here was not deep, but still the ground lay pristine and white. Bare branches bore quiet burdens of snow, until with sudden cracks they broke and dropped their weight like small avalanches. The noise spooked the birds—some small night-blind creature gave a shrill cry and fled its home in a panic.

 

"Is this castle no longer in use?" Fisé asked softly.

 

"Right. It's practically unknown on purpose. People avoid even saying its name. When they must, they call it 'the Eastern Palace' or 'the residence near the Sanctuary.' It used to belong to my grandfather's lover—so it's quite small."

 

"Now that you say it, 'Eleria' was the name of the former queen, wasn't it?"

 

"Yes. The former king's second wife. My father was already an adult when the marriage happened, and he opposed it bitterly. He never got along with his young stepmother. That's why this place is so distasteful to him. He's never even set foot here. My mother oversees it now. Since it's so close to the Sacred Mountains in the east, people treat it as a sort of minor sanctuary, and no one comes near. Honestly, I think it's the perfect place to hide."

 

"I see…"

 

Still astride the living warmth of the horse, Fisé felt himself plunge into a pit of cold.

 

A place the king loathed. A place he'd never once visited.

 

He understood what that meant. He'd known, and still, he hoped—hoped there might be another reason.

 

He wanted to believe that Aurelian had chosen this place only because he was rebelling. That it was simply a convenient location, near the sacred lands, suitable for escape.

 

But that wasn't it. He had known Aurelian too long, and he could hear the shadows beneath his words.

 

It felt as if Aurelian was saying, "You wouldn't want to set foot where my father has, would you, Fisé? I wouldn't either."

 

He knows.

 

Perhaps the king had told him everything. Perhaps that was why they fought—why the key had ended up in the fireplace, or some such place. Aurelian had retrieved it, perhaps even burned his hand in the process. And the king, shaken at having injured his heir, had not yet sent soldiers in pursuit.

 

Could that be what had happened?

 

Fisé forced himself to straighten his back, trying to keep the chill in his heart hidden from Aurelian's gaze. He reduced the man he loathed into nothing more than a title—"the king"—in an effort to keep emotion at bay.

 

He didn't know how much had been revealed or in what manner. But if the king had truly spoken of the past, there was no doubt Fisé had been painted in the worst light. Resentment was only natural. And yet—whatever the king might have said, it was Aurelian who had come for him.

 

It was Aurelian who had brought him here, to a place unsullied by the king's touch.

 

Perhaps half of what I feared has already come to pass. But there is no despair in it. The one thing I dreaded most has not happened. And whatever comes next, right now I am breathing the crisp air of the outside world. Right now, I feel Aurelian's warmth beside me.

 

His body, chilled to the bone, was in truth warming again—and with that realization, his view shifted.

 

The moonlit world of silver shimmered with quiet radiance, every snowflake carrying the delicate glimmer of freedom and hope.

 

As they emerged from the forest still on horseback, a building came into view—not quite a palace, but rather a modest manor, more deserving of the name residence. Its walls were white, though time had turned them to a weathered ivory.

 

There were trees grown wild around it, and vines hardy enough to withstand the cold—but no flowers, no color, nothing that bloomed.

 

Compared to the rose-covered palace where Fisé had once lived, the place felt desolate—but not unkind. The former held memories too bitter to bear; this place held nothing. And that, above all, was what made it bearable.

 

There was nothing more important than that.

 

The Eleria Palace appeared at first glance to be two stories tall. A pond lay before the entrance, and to the south stood a stable. But once inside, Fisé saw it was mostly a single-story structure, built with an airy, open design.

 

Only one room, accessed from the living room, existed on the second floor—it seemed to be the bedchamber.

 

The first floor housed an entrance hall, a corridor, a living room and drawing room, a kitchen and pantry, a bathing area—all simple and practical. Unlike Fisé, whose kind was less affected by temperature, Aurelian had a human body for whom cold could be dangerous. He immediately shed his cloak and rushed to the hearth.

 

"I'll warm the place up right away," he said, fumbling numbly to strike a flame.

 

Fisé didn't need warmth for survival—Aurelian must have known that—but it didn't matter. Fisé remembered how, even during their ride, Aurelian had wrapped him carefully in a fur cloak, trying his best to keep him warm.

 

"It's not even the dead of winter, and yet it feels freezing, doesn't it?" Aurelian remarked. "Strangely enough, it feels colder indoors."

 

"Outside was colder," Fisé replied curtly. "There's no way it's colder in here."

 

"You're right. Sorry. Maybe… it just felt warm because you were so close to me," Aurelian said with a sheepish smile.

 

"That was the horse's doing. I don't have body heat," Fisé replied flatly.

 

Aurelian, undeterred, simply answered, "Right," as he tossed another log onto the fire.

 

Fisé felt he might have been a bit too sharp, and added with a gentler tone, "You should warm yourself well. I may not feel the cold, but you're human. You mustn't underestimate the cold's danger. I've read that many lose their lives to winter illness—especially when wounded, the body becomes vulnerable to greater maladies. You, who are to be king, must not be careless."

 

Aurelian, crouched by the hearth with a poker in hand, turned to study Fisé in silence.

 

His gaze drifted from head to toe, lingering especially on Fisé's legs.

 

"Your outfit looks cold, even just looking at it... but—actually, it's nice. It really reminds me you're a man," he said with a grin.

 

He was no doubt referring to the breeches Fisé had changed into for the sake of riding.

 

To Fisé, that style—modeled after the attire worn by the previous Rose King, and similar to what he'd been dressed in since birth—never felt especially feminine. Even if it resembled the dresses worn by human women, it had always been, to him, simply fairy-like attire.

 

He considered changing back, but hesitated. Aurelian, whom Fisé had once thought of as a child, had grown far closer to manhood than he'd expected. And being alone together on the run carried with it a faint, peculiar tension. Perhaps it was better to remain dressed like this—as a quiet reminder that they were, unmistakably, both male. It might help avoid misunderstandings.

 

"There we go, the fire's taken. Amazing what flames can do, huh? It's already warming up."

 

Warming his hands at the hearth, Aurelian glanced down at the scarf wrapped around his right hand and murmured, "Ah, right... we'd said you'd help heal this."

 

"Fire is indeed powerful and useful," Fisé replied softly. "But it can also be terrifying and uncontrollable. It must've hurt you terribly. Did the king throw the key into the fire?"

 

"...I think," Aurelian said slowly, "when someone's sick in the soul, they end up doing things they'd never do if they were in their right mind. It can't be helped. When a person realizes their life might end sooner than they thought, they start to panic. Some try to do good to reach heaven, others give in to their desires... people wrestle with all kinds of thoughts. And sometimes... they just break."

 

"Aurelian… let me see your hand."

 

Facing him before the fire, Fisé reached out and gently touched Aurelian's wrist.

 

Not knowing how severe the burn was, he decided not to force the scarf off. Instead, he laid his own hand over Aurelian's palm, imagining the wound hidden beneath.

 

He had no experience healing human injuries—fairy scratches were one thing, but this was different. Still, he'd read about wounds in books, read descriptions, studied sketches. He pictured what that burn must look like—and then, with a clear image in his mind, envisioned it healing.

 

And so, with quiet focus, he began to pour his strength into the palm beneath his own.

 

From beneath the silk scarf, a pale glow began to bloom—soft and golden, like a candle flickering under fine fabric.

 

Aurelian jolted, his elbow twitching with surprise, his eyes—like a cloudless sky—sparkling in wonder. "Fisé… it's amazing. My hand… it's glowing. I'm just a normal human, and yet it's glowing like this…"

 

You were never just a normal human. You've shone like this since the moment you were born—Fisé didn't speak the words, but they filled his heart.

 

Even if Aurelian's body was no different from that of an ordinary man, to Fisé, he was anything but ordinary. He was a gentle, radiant presence—like a small sun that never failed to warm those near him, impossible not to be drawn toward.

 

"Fairies don't need to think hard about their abilities," Fisé said softly. "We simply know what we can and cannot do. I believe I can heal your wound, at least partially. I've never treated a human injury before. I've healed Launis from time to time, but this is a first. How does it feel? Do you notice any change?"

 

"Oh—yes. It's completely different. A moment ago, my hand felt like a second heart, pulsing with pain. Now it's quiet."

 

 

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