Chapter 29: Chapter 28 – Magnus’s Departure

Raviel joined Magnus in front of the villa. The latter made sure his horse was properly saddled. He had put on his general's armor, with his finely worked black breastplate and his long sword.

“Father.”

Magnus turned around, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment. As if to gauge the attitude of the other, and the state of the fluctuating relationship uniting them.

"Did you see Mother before you left?"

Magnus nodded. He had spent the night with his wife.

“Your absence will weigh on her.”

Raviel did not fail to see a shadow veil his father's gaze, and he bit his lip lightly. He knew that despite the years that had passed and Cecilia's madness, Magnus still felt a deep affection for his wife. The affection that Raviel had long envied because he had always been deprived of it.

"What happened to your face?" Magnus asked.

Raviel couldn't suppress a grimace. Despite the ointment made by Pontius, the bruises were still visible on his skin. On the other hand, the fact that his father was interested in it surprised him. Or maybe he only cared about the image Raviel gave of their family.

"Does it have to do with the Emperor?"

Raviel opted for a half-truth.

“He doesn't appreciate that I can refuse to play clairvoyant for him.”

Magnus' lips twisted in displeasure.

“You are the heir of this family. Don't forget that whatever emperor he is, his power over you has its limits.”

Raviel was left speechless. He had never heard his father claim out loud that he was his heir. He nodded slowly. Magnus put one foot in the stirrup of his mount and heaved himself into the saddle. He stared at Raviel for a few moments, aware that they wouldn't see each other again for a long time. If they saw each other again. But what about a son with whom he shared nothing? A son to whom he had never shown the slightest ounce of affection, favoring the hardness of the blows? For them, there would never be any turning back. At best they would one day stick to a neutral relationship, devoid of violence.

“Be worthy.”

This time, Raviel nodded more firmly. Magnus heeled his horse and rushed on the dirt road under the gaze of his son. He watched him ride away in a cloud of dust, a hint of apprehension rising in his chest.

"When will he be back?"

Raviel turned around to face Aster, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm back from the vegetable garden."

Raviel relaxed imperceptibly.

“I don't know when my father will return. Probably not for months.”

“And it does not bother you?“

"I guess I’m used to it," Raviel replied.

He unconsciously ran his hand over his splint, and Aster heard a slight crack in his voice.

“And the pressure is less heavy when he is not here.”

He walked towards the villa with a calm step.

“What are you going to do today?” Aster called out to him.

Raviel stopped and looked at him over his shoulder.

“If the question is will I go to the palace? The answer is yes. But not right now.”

"Aren't you afraid of reprisals for your absence yesterday?"

Raviel gave him a faint smile.

“For once, Severus will have a valid reason to come after me.”

Aster clicked his tongue slightly, implying that he didn't like the answer, but he didn't say anything.

"You won't come with me," Raviel added.

Aster opened his mouth in amazement, but no sound came out.

“Why?” He finally asked.

“You’re still limping, even if it’s only slightly. I'd rather not direct attention to you.”

“That's absurd,” Aster retorted. “Your face will attract attention anyway!”

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Raviel hesitated for a moment before answering with a sigh:

"Do you really think no one knows my father can be violent towards me?"

Aster stiffened. He had to admit it was well thought out, but what Raviel's words implied pained him.

"And… what will happen with Titus?"

“Nothing. Suspicions will certainly turn to me since I make an excellent scapegoat, but they will have no proof.”

Raviel bit his lip. He hoped Severus wouldn't overstep his boundary to set him up. Aster hesitated for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him.

"What were you talking about with Mel yesterday?" You said you tried to save us, but you failed and you…”

Raviel narrowed his eyes and cut him off in a dry voice:

"Are you eavesdropping now?"

“No! I just wanted to go lie down when I heard you…”

Raviel abruptly branched off to walk briskly towards the vegetable patch, his shoulders stiff. Aster understood that he wasn't planning on answering him.

"I thought you trusted me!"

Raviel paused briefly but didn't turn around.

“I do,” he affirmed.

But he cursed the slight tremors in his voice.

***

Raviel put his pair of scissors in the grass and leaned against the trunk of a fig tree. He rubbed his hands to remove the soil that had accumulated there and sighed. Thoughts were swirling around in his mind, and he couldn't seem to clear his mind. Mel had returned about an hour ago. She had spent the night at Lana's but hadn't learned much more than what Raviel knew.

Zelia came from one of the greatest patrician families in Massallia. Renowned for her beauty and her intelligence, she had fled with a slave at the dawn of her eighteen years, when she was promised to another. All the soldiers, sent after her, had come back empty-handed. Her family, fallen in disgrace, had left Massallia to settle in another big city of the empire, far from contemptuous eyes.

One detail, however, had caught his attention. The Gift of Zelia was linked to the Warrior.

Raviel preferred to wait before talking to Aster about it. The latter still seemed to have a hard time accepting reality. Needless to add another layer by revealing to him that his parents had probably lied to him about their origins.

He looked up when footsteps muffled by the grass reached him. His silvery irises caught Aster's gaze.

"I shouldn't have listened to your conversation," he admitted.

He stopped near the fig tree, and let himself slide against the rough bark.

“I don't blame you. But… I prefer not to talk about certain things.” Raviel said.

Aster nodded slowly, and Raviel smiled faintly. He closed his eyes, trying to push away his dark thoughts. He hated himself for hiding such secrets. But a part of him, perhaps even bigger, was scared. Terrified even, at the idea that Aster's gaze on him would change. Because he was one of the only people he could afford to be himself with, and because he had come to develop a deep friendship with him. Friendship he guessed was shared, despite the complexity of their relationship.

The evidence hit him hard. Raviel dreaded losing Aster. But he knew it would happen. It was inevitable.

“For the first time since the death of my family, I don't feel like I'm alone anymore,” Aster whispered.

His fingers unconsciously manhandled a few blades of grass.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we had met in other circumstances ... If we had not been master and slave,” he continued in a low voice.

"Do you really think that is the only bond that unites us?"

He wished his voice had been more assured. Aster must have noticed because he quickly replied.

“No, of course not.”

His lips quirked into a smile. In response, Raviel's eyes sparkled with happiness. Aster stood up.

“Come. You haven't eaten anything since last night, and you've been here for several hours.”

"Do you care about my meals now?" he asked teasingly.

Aster rolled his eyes. They walked quietly towards the villa until Raviel's smile faded. Aster immediately understood what was wrong. A litter surrounded by several figures had stopped in front of the villa.

Raviel's shoulders stiffened and he quickened his pace. He ignored the litter and jerked open the door to the house. He immediately met the sorry gaze of Nerilla, who had stepped out of the kitchen, but Mel's voice drew his attention to the living room.

"Raviel is absent at the moment!"

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