A Wicked Game [The Crown Saga II] (Under Editing)

A Whisper of Guidance

"You're too slow, Will," Tristan shouted, sprinting ahead as if nothing else mattered in this world.

Racing like that wasn't uncommon for the two of us during the rare occasions when we visited the city. However, I had another objective in mind today that demanded I take my time despite my muscles roaring with repressed energy.

Mom was strolling peacefully beside me and demonstrated no desire to emulate the same tenacity and spirit that had possessed Tristan, so I restrained myself.

These would probably be the only days I'd have with my family until my training with Art was complete. I needed to wring every detail of their current situation from them so that I could return with my mind at ease.

"Is everything really okay at the mansion?" I asked Mom, hoping for a more detailed description of how they were treating her at the mansion since neither Dad nor Tristan was present to hear her.

Dad walked alongside Keagan a few steps behind us, conversing as if they were old friends. They appeared occupied, and Tristan was focused on winning a race in which he was the sole competitor, so this was my opportunity to speak with Mom privately.

Mom smiled, but it wasn't the smile I'd been hoping to see. It was the same smile she'd given me on my first day at the mansion, so I knew she wouldn't tell me the truth. "Of course, Darling. They leave me be to do my job the way I'm used to, and Mrs. Deveroux keeps her son on a short leash to avoid the Guardians being summoned following the recent incident."

The recent incident...

I knew she was referring to the incident that started this entire chaos, but she acted as if it was completely unrelated to my powers. And despite the reasonableness of her answer, a hollow voice in my head still told me she was lying — or, at the very least, that she wasn't being completely honest with me.

Either way, I couldn't ask about the bruise directly because she would undoubtedly lie about its origin too. Instead, I stayed silent and focused on following the unpredictable course of Tristan's chaotic running style.

It was incredible to see him use every limb of his body to run as fast as he could, regardless of how ridiculous he looked. He probably still saw the World as a magical place full of secrets waiting to be discovered rather than a terrible society with laws and restrictions that no First-blood should be subjected to in the ways they were.

"Tristan!" I shouted as he unexpectedly turned to run along a path opposite the direction leading to the town's heart. Mom grabbed my shoulder before I could sprint after him.

"We're not going to the station, Honey," she said calmly and inhaled the fresh winter air. "Tristan knows exactly where we're going."

"But aren't you taking me to see that part of the city?" I asked, wondering what estranged plans she could possibly have in mind.

Mom didn't respond. I wasn't sure from where she got her sudden burst of energy, but her hand grasped mine without warning, compelling me to finally run to keep up with her.

She didn't stop until we arrived at the entrance to a park area, breathing almost as heavily as me. I must have forgotten how straining and stressful the job of a maid was in that dreadful place — especially when Mrs. Margaret handed us the purple notes. Mom was in better shape than me despite my hard work.

"Not so fast, young man," Mom said, catching Tristan's collar before he could run past her. "This is not a place for you to run and play, as I told you last time we were here."

Tristan hardly appeared to pay attention to Mom's warning, struggling against her iron grip. She held him back until he stopped fighting her. I expected him to bolt forward the moment Mom let go, but to my surprise, he calmly continued along the predefined path we were following instead.