CHAPTER 86: CH 86: A REWARD FOR YOU - PART 2

[Don’t go. This feast—it’s too clean. Too coordinated. It’s a trap.]

Nyx’s voice whispered through Nova’s mind, low and sharp like a dagger in the dark.

Nova stood by the mirror, adjusting the collar of the unfamiliar formal robes they’d laid out for him. White silk, gold trim, imperial insignia stitched over the shoulder. A lion choking a snake.

He didn’t reply at first. Just ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the distorted reflection staring back at him. His face didn’t look tired. But something behind his eyes had frayed.

[Nova?]

"I’m going. I want to see what they’ll try."

He said.

[Curiosity’s going to get you killed one day.]

Nova smirked.

"Probably. But not today."

[You’re certain of that?]

"No. But let’s not pretend things don’t tend to turn out my way."

He turned from the mirror.

Nyx sighed—a soft, ghostlike exhale.

[You’re impossible.]

"Relax. Just prepare for a new potential companion. We might have company soon."

He said.

[A companion? What did you drag in this time? Another dying hero on his last breath?]

Her voice sharpened.

"Don’t be dramatic."

[I’m your internal voice. I live in drama.]

Nova shook his head, lips twitching.

"Nyx, don’t joke about that. Also, he’s someone who helped me once. I’m returning the favor."

[Mm. You and your favors. Fine. Just say the word and I’ll pull you out of there before anyone even lifts a cup.]

Nyx’s tone dropped to a sigh.

"Thanks, Nyx."

[Don’t thank me. Just try not to die for once.]

The voice cut out, leaving only silence in the gilded room.

Nova turned back toward the bed.

Malrik stirred.

A groan. A rustle of sheets. Then a sharp inhale.

"...where are we?"

Malrik asked, his voice rough.

Nova leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

"Imperial palace. Eastern wing. You’ve been asleep for a few hours."

Malrik blinked slowly, adjusting to the soft torchlight. His body still trembled from the strain, but he pushed himself upright, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed.

"I thought I died."

He muttered.

"You almost did."

"Hmph."

Malrik wiped his face with a trembling hand.

"So what now?"

"There’s a feast."

Malrik stared at him.

"A feast?"

Nova gave a slight nod.

"Celebration for breaking the curse. Royal hospitality."

"Hospitality? You sure it’s not an execution with better lighting?"

Malrik snorted.

"Could be."

"And you’re still going?"

Nova shrugged.

"I want to see who shows their hand first."

Malrik shook his head, baffled.

"They must be planning something. No ruler gives away food and gold in a time like this—not when half their city just fell."

"I agree."

"Then why—?"

"I’m not here for the food."

That silenced Malrik for a beat.

Then, softer, more hesitant, he asked.

"What happens after?"

"After?"

"After the feast. After this city. You said we’d go to your ship."

"We will."

Malrik studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowed.

"You really meant it, huh? You’re not just another warlord wrapped in mystery."

Nova didn’t answer.

"I’m serious. You could take this planet’s throne in a week. But instead you’re... doing whatever this is."

Malrik said.

"I’m not interested in thrones."

"What are you interested in?"

Nova’s eyes darkened.

"Balance."

Malrik didn’t understand it, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he forced himself to his feet, grimacing as his legs buckled slightly. The seal on his shoulder glowed faintly beneath the fabric.

"You sure I should be up and walking?"

"No. But you’ll do it anyway."

Nova said.

Malrik chuckled.

"You’re not wrong."

Nova turned for the door, pausing only long enough to glance over his shoulder.

"Get dressed. Don’t look too strong."

"Why?"

"Because if they think you’re still half-dead, they’ll talk freely."

Malrik grinned.

"You’re scarier than most generals I’ve met."

"I’m worse."

The halls of the palace gleamed under fresh torchlight, but the cracks in the walls hadn’t been cleaned.

Ministers whispered behind golden masks. Servants moved like ghosts, silent and watchful.

And in the throne hall, long tables had been laid out in a show of royal splendor—meat, wine, fruit, silverware that caught the light too easily.

A show.

Every piece of it a test.

Nova stepped through the entrance without flinching. Malrik followed behind, wearing loose wrappings and a worn coat to hide his seal. No one paid him much mind.

Queen Eleysa stood at the head of the hall, dressed in dark velvet, her crown forged anew. She looked regal, if slightly tired. Her fingers still bore the marks of the aether strain.

"Noble guests! Tonight, we drink not just for survival—but for those who led us to it."

She called.

All heads turned to Nova.

He gave a curt nod, playing his part.

The queen smiled, but her eyes remained still.

Ministers clapped. Some genuinely. Others with faces carved from strategy.

"Lord Nova. A seat has been prepared for you. Honor demands we recognize your contribution."

The Queen said, stepping down from the dais.

Nova raised a brow.

"And what does ambition demand?"

"Only that you enjoy the evening."

She said smoothly.

He followed her to the high table, Malrik ghosting in behind him.

As the music began and the wine was poured, whispers swirled like storm winds through the room. Half the court still didn’t know what to make of Nova.

The other half had already decided what he should become.

A weapon. A pawn. A threat.

Nova just smiled and let them think.

Malrik leaned in close, eyes scanning the nobles.

"This is tense."

"It’s not the feast. It’s the aftermath."

Nova murmured.

And indeed, behind the toasts and hollow laughter, the room waited. For Nova to speak. For Eleysa to slip. For someone to die.

But Nova lifted his glass and drank without hesitation.

Halfway through the dinner, just as the clinking of glasses began to settle and the hollow chatter lulled into polite murmurs, Queen Eleysa stood from her seat with a deliberate grace.

Her wine glass remained untouched. Her eyes, however, glittered with intent.

"Lord Nova...Would you join me on the stage?"

She called, her voice calm but carrying.

The room quieted further. Every head turned.

Nova didn’t move right away. He glanced sideways—just once—at Malrik.

A silent message passed between them.

Nova tapped two fingers against his glass, the agreed-upon signal. Malrik straightened in his seat, his exhaustion masked beneath a lazy, disinterested posture. But his fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Ready.

Nova rose from his chair, the fabric of his robe falling like silk around his boots. He stepped through the wide, carpeted space, the tension in the room coiling tighter with each step.

When he reached the stage, Queen Eleysa offered her hand.

Nova took it.

Her fingers were cold.

"Thank you."

She said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Once she had him beside her, she turned to face the crowd. Her voice rose, soft but firm.

"People of the court - soldiers, ministers, honored guests—tonight, we stand on the ashes of war, and we celebrate not only survival, but those who led us through the storm.

She said and the hall grew still. Forks halted mid-air. Eyes locked on the stage.

And Nova waited. Silent. Watching. Something was going to happen soon enough.