The Obsidian Marks ✔️

| Chapter Thirty |

Sorein was sick of his own thoughts.

After hearing his own renditions of the affliction his mother suffered for the millionth time, he picked up one of the spare files Levias had left on the counter. If researching her ailment wasn't helping anyone, maybe he could find something his cousin missed.

He stepped down into one of the floor sanctuaries with built in couches and threw himself against the plush cushions.

Unsure if hours or days had passed, Sorein felt just as rigid and uncomfortable as he did entering the library.

Whenever that had been.

Unlike the days of his childhood when he could read for hours without a single care, Sorein found himself worrying about the journey Destry had sent Iliya on and the fact that no one was willing to mention what happened in the ballroom.

The notion made him restless.

Every few paragraphs, his mind would wander and suddenly the words in his mind were more prevalent than the paper. So much so he couldn't retain what he read.

Sorein sighed and chucked the paper across the space, glaring at the way it pooled up on the ground in disarray.

"Someone's in a good mood," a playful voice chimed. Nixian slipped out from a row of bookshelves. "I don't suppose you've heard of a thing called sleep?"

Sorein lifted his bemused stare to the shining emerald eyes and blinked.

"You can't use the warning stare on other royalty," Nixian said, smirking. "Because I know you're not actually threatening me."

He rolled his eyes, slumping back into the couch. "What do you want, Nixian?"

"A friendly hello to you too," Nixian chuckled, his tail flicking as he came down to sit on the couch opposite him. "I haven't seen you in the Infirmary once, have you ever gotten looked at?"

Sorein hadn't. He'd taken to washing his face out in the sink and using magic to heal himself.

He couldn't help the small smile at the compassion bleeding out of Nixian though. The Nerydian male's knack for heckling people with care was a unique brand of kindness, but also an amusing one.

Nixian huffed, his irritation growing. "You're like talking to a brick wall," he said. "Jeremy and I are fine by the way, thank you for asking."

Guilt guttered in Sorein's chest and he looked away, suddenly upset he'd thrown his reading material. "I'm glad."

"Though without the heiress' capable hands, I'm not sure what we'll do," he joked again, laughing.

Sorein's brow raised at that. "Iliya's been in the Infirmary that much?"

The Prince of Cefrias brows furrowed. "She hasn't left the infirmary, Sorein."

Sorein's eyes traced over the sling still wrapping Nixian's arm, though now it was a golden cloth similar to the colors of Aelusia itself. He wondered how much it hurt the Nerydian to be so nonchalant and chipper.