Chapter 5 – The Hero, Ahead of Schedule

I ran.

Not in a heroic way. In a very stupid, very loud, boots-clattering-down-the-staircase way. The runner carpet did absolutely nothing to muffle the sound. The dead Vandermeres in their paintings watched me sprint past with what I can only describe as silent, generational shame.

The deep voice called my name again.

It was not coming from where I expected.

Not the dining hall to the left. Not the duke’s study at the end of the east wing. It was coming from the front entrance.

That was. New.

I slowed at the bottom of the stairs.

The grand foyer opened up in front of me. Black and white marble floor. A chandelier the size of a small car. A wide front door is currently propped open by someone who absolutely did not live here.

Two guards stood at attention near the door. Sweating. Stiff. Trying very hard to pretend they were furniture.

A boy stood in the middle of the foyer.

Maybe my age. Tall. Lazy posture. One hand in his pocket. A travel cloak slung over one shoulder, as it had personally offended him. Sun-blond hair fell into a pair of bright green eyes that were already, somehow, pinned on me.

I knew that face.

Every single reader in every single forum knew that face.

Kael Aurevant.

The hero of the novel.

In my foyer.

Three weeks early.

He smiled when he saw me. It was not a friendly smile. It was not an unfriendly smile either. It was the smile of a guy who had walked into a room and immediately found the most interesting thing in it.

“Vandermere.”

I forgot how to breathe.

I also briefly forgot how to walk. My boot caught on the last step. I caught the banister. I tried to make the whole motion look intentional. I was probably the only person in the room who was fooled.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Are you good.”

“Excellent.”

“You sure.”

“Top tier. Best I have ever been. Ask anyone.”

“I am asking you.”

“Then yes.”

He laughed.

It was a short, surprised sound. Like he had not actually expected me to talk back. He shifted his weight to one foot and tilted his head, studying me the way you study a math problem that turned out to be a different math problem.

I walked the rest of the way down the stairs.

Slowly. Carefully. Like the marble might bite. My pinky ring sat very still on my hand. The morning light coming through the tall windows cut clean white squares across the floor between us.

I stopped a polite ten feet away.

That seemed safer.

“You are not the duke.”

“Sharp eye.”

“You are also not on the schedule.”

“Did I have a schedule.”

“You always have a schedule, Aurevant. Everyone has a schedule. The duke has three.”

“Three schedules.”

“Probably four. He likes lists.”

The corner of Kael’s mouth tugged up.

The two guards by the door visibly relaxed by about half a centimeter. Whatever conversation they had been bracing for, this was apparently not it. One of them risked a small, hopeful glance at the other.

Kael walked toward me.

He walked the way a stretched cat walks. All easy joints and zero hurry. His boots clicked on the marble in a slow, even rhythm. He stopped about three feet away. Close enough to look at my face. Far enough that I did not feel cornered.

“You look different.”

“I had a weird morning.”

“Hm.”

“You are doing the eyebrow thing.”

“What eyebrow thing.”

“The one where you look like you already know the answer.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Maybe you are bluffing.”

“Maybe I am.”

He grinned.

It was a sharp grin. A little too sharp. The grin of a guy who had won fights for fun and not always clean ones. The official wiki had described Kael as principled. The official wiki had, possibly, undersold him.

The grin faded a beat later. He tilted his head again, slower this time.

“Word reached the academy.”

“Word about what.”

“About you.”

“That is not specific.”

“They said the third Vandermere son was getting worse.”

“Worse.”

“Quote unquote.”

“Charming.”

“They sent me ahead.”

“To do what.”

“To look.”

The foyer went a little colder.

Not literally. The morning light still spilled across the marble. The chandelier still hung, perfectly still, above us. But something in the room had pulled tight, like a string that had been slack a second ago.

I kept my face very flat.

“Look at what.”

“You.”

“And then what.”

“Depends on what I see.”

The polite distance between us did not feel polite anymore. It felt measured. Carefully chosen. The kind of distance a person picks when they have already calculated how fast they could close it.

I was very, very aware that this was the boy who, in three weeks, was supposed to cut me in half outside the academy gates.

I forced my shoulders down.

“And what do you see?”

He looked at me.

Really looked like a guy reading the small print at the bottom of a contract. Green eyes flicked across my face, my hair, my hands, the way I was standing. He did not blink for an uncomfortably long time.

I did not look away.

That was, possibly, the only smart decision I had made all morning. Looking away from a predator is how you become a snack. I had read enough nature documentaries to know that much.

He was quiet for a long second.

“Huh.”

“Huh.”

“You are not what they said.”

“Big claim.”

“They said you were rotten.”

“Specific.”

“They said you screamed at the staff.”

“Today I did not.”

“They said you threw teacups.”

“Not today.”

“They said you used your magic on people for fun.”

I held his eyes.

It was the hardest thing I had done since opening them in this room. My pinky ring sat warm on my hand. Lira’s red, embarrassed face flashed somewhere behind my eyes. I told the part of me that wanted to flinch to sit down and shut up.

“Today I have used my magic exactly once. By accident. On a girl who was crying. To make her stop crying. It went badly. I apologized. She sprinted away. The end.”

A long silence.

“That is. Specific.”

“You asked.”

“I did.”

“So.”

“So.”

He looked at me for another long second.

Then he laughed.

Out loud this time. Real laugh. His shoulders shook. He dragged a hand down his face. The two guards by the door exchanged the most confused look I had seen on two adult men in years.

“Vandermere.”

“Yes.”

“You are weird.”

“I have been told.”

“You are also funny.”

“I have not been told.”

“That is concerning, actually.”

“Why.”

“Because it means everyone who told me about you was lying or wrong.”

I blinked.

The pinky ring was warm. The lavender smell from upstairs had mostly faded. Sunlight crawled another inch across the marble between us. Somewhere, very far away, the deep voice that I now realized had been a guard, not the duke, called out a polite question to someone in the next hall.

Kael stepped back.

Just one step. Just enough to put real, normal, friendly distance between us. The string in the room loosened. The two guards visibly remembered how to breathe.

He scratched the back of his neck.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I came in here ready to do a thing.”

“What thing.”

“A bad thing, Vandermere.”

“Cool.”

“To you.”

“Less cool.”

“Yes.”

He laughed again. Softer this time. Almost embarrassed.

He pulled his cloak a little higher on his shoulder and looked at me with a kind of curious, sideways respect that I did not even know was on the menu for a guy with my face.

“I do not see it.”

“See what.”

“Whatever they were scared of.”

“Maybe I am hiding it.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe you should look harder.”

“Are you trying to get cut in half, Vandermere.”

I almost choked on my own tongue.

I covered it with a cough. He raised an eyebrow. I waved one hand vaguely at the air, like a guy who had inhaled a piece of dust at a very specific moment for very normal reasons.

“Allergies.”

“Sure.”

“Pollen.”

“In a marble foyer.”

“Marble pollen.”

“You are doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Being weird.”

“You said you liked it.”

“I said it was concerning.”

“Same thing.”

He shook his head.

He turned. Just like that. One small motion, smooth and easy, and started walking back toward the open front door. The travel cloak swung a little on his shoulder. The two guards snapped back to attention so fast I heard a leather creak.

He paused at the threshold.

He looked back over his shoulder.

The morning sun caught the side of his face. Bright green eye. Half a smirk. The kind of expression an artist would have wanted to draw and then would have ruined by trying.

“Vandermere.”

“Aurevant.”

“You get a pass.”

“From what.”

“From me. For now.”

The words hit the air and settled in my chest like a small, careful stone.

I kept my face very flat. I did not let the relief show. I did not let the laugh that wanted to come out, come out. I just nodded once, the way a normal noble son might nod at a guest who had wandered in and somehow not killed him.

“Generous.”

“Mm.”

“Anything I should know?”

“A few things.”

“Such as.”

“If you get worse, I will hear.”

“And.”

“And next time I will not be in a good mood.”

“Noted.”

“Good.”

“Kael.”

He paused.

It was the first time I had used his given name. It came out before I thought about it. He turned his head, just a fraction, green eye sliding back to me. The smirk softened—just a little.

“What.?

“Thanks for looking.”

He did not answer right away.

He held my eyes for another beat, the same way he had earlier. Whatever he found this time, he kept to himself. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Then he stepped through the door, into the morning sun, and was gone.

The foyer was suddenly very, very quiet.

I let out a breath I had been holding for what felt like the entire conversation. My knees, finally, remembered they were knees. I sat down on the bottom step of the staircase before they could betray me on the marble.

The two guards stared at me.

I waved a hand vaguely.

“As you were. Or whatever.”

They snapped back to their posts.

Sunlight cut across the foyer. The chandelier hung perfectly still. Somewhere upstairs, very faintly, I could hear three women still arguing about the morning’s events in increasingly creative ways.

I looked down at the pinky ring.

The black stone caught the light and threw it back, just like it had upstairs. Calm. Quiet. Patient.

Three weeks had, somehow, just become more than three weeks.

I had bought myself time.

Now I just had to figure out what to do with it.