Chapter 16: The price of Her healing

The east wing was silent when Velastra arrived—too silent.

She walked the marbled halls with a hurried stride, the soles of her boots echoing against the high arches, but there were no voices, no laughter, no trace of Cael. Only a faint scent of lavender lingered, like the ghost of a moment she longed to return to.

When she flung open the door to his room, it was empty.

And so was the garden. And the library. And the kitchen where they once tried to cook victory rice.

Her heart dropped.

A low, startled voice met her at the corridor—an old maid, trembling in her step, eyes rimmed red. It was from her lips Velastra first heard of the punishment decreed. Of the sin committed, unknowingly, by Cael's mother.

An Awal plant—a native herb from Nirhaleth, now banned under Irithiel law—was planted in the east royal garden. Harmless for Nirhalethians but energy wrecker for Irithians. The Court deemed it treasonous. Her sentence was banishment to the brothels of the Outer District.

And not just her.

All the female servants of the east wing were to be sent with her.

But Cael had knelt before the king.

"Spare them. Take me instead."

The king, forbidden from harming Cael's body by the laws of Court of Chain's Oathbinding, found a crueler path. He sent Cael to the very brothel meant for his mother—not just punishment, not just to shame.

But, to let Velastra disgust him.

When Velastra heard this, her eyes turned gray.

---

She stormed the training hall, where Nordic was stationed with the elite guards.

"You let this happen?" she demanded, voice a weapon.

"Your Highness, I passed the word to Orion," Nordic answered with tight restraint. "Selvareth's seal bars me from entering."

She did not scream. But her silence was louder than war drums.

She understood—Orion protected her. Kept her anchored to healing. But it had cost her too much.

Velastra marched into the royal court, past trembling advisors and defiant generals, until she reached the throne room of King Vorelin.

"I will burn every veil of this kingdom if you don't return him to me."

The king's eyes gleamed with calculated amusement.

"If you can find where I've sent him," he said coldly, "then he is yours to take."

And as if fate wished to salt her wounds, the next door she opened in the king's private chamber led her to a sight that hollowed her heart.

Cael's mother, draped in a red concubine robe, her eyes dull with shame—but no tears. She stood tall, and gently bowed to her.

She knew it wasn't for power that her mother-in-law was there. She was force to enter the royal palace to be a prisoner.

Velastra stood in the doorway, fists clenched at her sides, eyes burning like the legacy of her mother—a woman once feared for nearly bringing Irithiel to ruin.

However, her mother-in-law, held her hand and stopped her, whispering, "we live in a realm bounded by oath-arcanas, your father, by marrying me, he binded Cael's lifeline to his."

Velastra felt the deep remorse of regrets. Her tears fell in contest, as she bowed and ask forgiveness to her mother-in-law, "mother, I have failed to protect you."

The woman smiled and gently told her, "for now, please find Cael for me..."

She paused.

"...FOR US."

---

Three days passed.

Three days of scouring every district under Irithiel's sky. Three days of speaking to guards who would not meet her eyes. Three days of searching the shadows of every known brothel and finding nothing—no whisper of him.

Cael was gone.

Velastra's fists had begun to bleed from where her nails bit her palms, and her voice—once feared in courts and in war—was now hoarse from calling his name through alleys that spat back silence.

She had no choice.

On the night, she returned to Selvareth, the mountain sanctum, where the air still shimmered with healing runes and silver mist. Orion was there, surrounded by scrolls and unfinished salves.

Velastra entered his chamber with no pride left.

"Help me," she said.

Orion looked up, the lines of fatigue deeper beneath his eyes. "I was waiting for you to come."

He set down the parchment and motioned her closer.

"Your father wouldn't risk placing him in a place where he'd die outright."

Velastra's jaw clenched. "You think that comforts me?"

"No," Orion answered, "but it narrows the search."

He walked to a crystalline orb sealed with arcane locks. His fingers brushed its surface, revealing flickers of oath-arcana glowing within—pale threads that pulsed like veins.

"When Vorelin bound Cael's life, it became tethered to his royal arcana. That limits where he can be held. It must be a place where the energies won't poison him too quickly."

Velastra frowned. "I thought brothels all carry the same miasma. The overflow of lust and despair."

Orion nodded. "Most do. The chaotic energies affect meridians. Especially someone like Cael—weak, bonded, emotionally tied. If he were thrown into one of the lower dens, his spiritual channels would corrode. He would suffer a full spiritual backlash—organs failing, soul fracturing. Your father wants him broken, not dead."

She swallowed. "Then where is he?"

Orion finally met her eyes. "There is only one place that meets the conditions."

He unrolled a map, pointing to a crescent-shaped isle just beyond Irithiel's east ward—hidden beneath layered enchantments.

"Arisven."

Velastra's breath hitched.

She knew the name only from whispers—a brothel not of shame, but of elegance. A place where immortals fed on willingly gifted negative emotions, cleansing them before they could poison others. Their bodies were vessels, not drains. They held pleasure without corruption.

Arisven was called the Cleanest Cage—because those who entered left without a trace of sin.

Except for those who didn't leave at all.

"Do you think he is fine there?" she asked.

"He will be alive," Orion answered. "But not untouched."

Velastra stepped back, the weight of that meaning burning her skin.

Her Cael. Her quiet man with fire in his heart and devotion like an unbreakable vow—offered to such a place to spare his mother. Trapped where others could touch what belonged to her.

And worse—where he might forget she even existed.

She turned toward the open archway of Selvareth, the storm already building behind her eyes.

"Then I will go to Arisven."

Orion's voice was gentler now. "Velastra… Arisven will not let him go."

She looked over her shoulder. No hesitation.

"And I will not falter."

Velastra paused.

"I must take him home."