Ascension Of The Villain

The latch clicked shut behind her as Iyana padded back into the lamplight, the soft cotton of her nightgown brushing against her ankles.

She had planned on coaxing Vyan straight to the tub, but the scent of freshly heated stew tugged her attention to the small table he'd dragged to the window alcove. Steam curled lazily upward, lit gold by the single candle he'd set beside the bowls.

He, meanwhile, had made himself far too comfortable—black dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, top buttons stubbornly fastened as if daring her to undo them again. The discarded suit jacket and brocade vest were sprawled across the couch. In that simple shirt he looked less Grand Duke, more troublemaking philanderer, and she felt a scandalous prickle of heat that had nothing to do with the food.

Maybe she was the one who needed to take a dip in the tub...

And no, Vyan hadn't done so yet. He had insisted on eating together and didn't want to make her wait to eat after she had starved all day.

Was it wrong to think he was all she wanted to eat?

Remember that time your stomach growled—

Just as her subconscious mind tried to recall the embarrassing moment from earlier, she scolded herself, shut up, let me admire my man peacefully.

Vyan caught her appraisal—of course, he did. One brow rose, a devil‑may‑care smile tugging at his mouth. "Missed watching me, did you?"

"Obviously. Do you even have to ask?" she answered shamelessly, stepping into the glow.

Her heart fluttered. His answering grin—soft, boyish, infuriatingly perfect—nearly undid her composure. Oh, that smile. She had replayed it in her mind through endless, sleepless nights; the real thing stole her breath.

Iyana brushed a fingertip across his sleeve in a silent hello, then slid into the chair that he pulled out for her like a gentleman who couldn't care less about formalities but did it anyway just for her.

"By the way," she said, eyeing the curls of steam, "how did you even heat the food? I thought it went cold ages ago."

Vyan opened his mouth, no doubt ready with some impossibly dramatic explanation. She beat him to it. "Wait—of course. Magic." A frown knit between her brows. "But I heard magic barely works this far from Haynes."

An amused spark danced behind his eyes. "Mostly true," he conceded, folding himself into the other chair. "Haynes's soil hoards the lion's share of mana. Enough to make even stone walls hum with magic if you listen closely. But you know, mana isn't a prisoner of borders." He lifted his hand; the candle flame bowed in greeting. "There's always a whisper of it in the air all around the world. You just have to know how to control it."

Iyana hummed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes still glowing softly under the low flicker of the candle.

She imagined invisible rivers of energy threading through their enchanted world, faint here, roaring back home. Trust Vyan to coax a torrent from a trickle. On top of that, he was already a storehouse of mana himself. The thought filled her with an odd, swelling pride, the kind reserved for watching someone you love do the thing they were born to do.

"Then why can't other nations use magic?"

Vyan chuckled as he replied, "Because they don't have the affinity for it. Plus," he added with a wry smirk, "our empire did a very good job convincing them there's no mana outside of Haynes."

A dry laugh escaped her. "Our ancestors were that cunning, huh."

"Yep. I think it was my great-great-grandfather who first started that false propaganda campaign. Even I didn't know the truth until I stepped into Tensene."

Her brows lifted, intrigued. "Seriously?"

He nodded, picking up his spoon. "I even went through all the trouble of stuffing my magical pouch with mana stones." He then mumbled under his breath quietly, "I thought I'd be in a similar situation like Modern Earth."

Iyana didn't catch the last part and laughed softly under her breath, stirring the stew with quiet amusement before looking back up at him. "Wait a minute… I haven't even asked you. How did you sneak in here?"

Vyan's lips curled up in a far-too-proud grin. "Shape-shifting, obviously."

Her spoon paused mid-air.

"I took on the face of an imperial guard," he said nonchalantly, "told the guards outside that they were being summoned to the upper quarters. Then I slipped back around as a maid and snuck into your room. I figured you'd freak out if a random man just barged in."

She shook her head with an incredulous smile, fondness gleaming in her eyes. "You lunatic…"

He just shrugged as if his madness were the most reasonable thing in the world.

"But," she added more softly now, "wasn't it hard for you to come here? I mean, you can't use teleportation out of Haynes."

Vyan exhaled, grumbling, "Yep, that part was a royal pain. Crossing the border physically was the real hassle. But apparently, the teleportation-restrictive magic only surrounds the border itself. Once I'm inside Tensene, I can teleport around as much as I want."

She suddenly felt suspicious. "Wait, did you know that before?"

"Nope."

Her jaw dropped. She slapped a palm to her forehead. "So you just—just came here on a whim?"

Vyan nodded, positively beaming now like a proud idiot. "As soon as I heard from Benedict where you were, I didn't wait. I came right away."

Her lips parted, stunned speechless for a moment. She just looked at him, spoon forgotten, heart caught somewhere between exasperation and wonder. The kind of reckless devotion in his voice—so stupid, so pure—it cracked something open in her chest.

She finally managed a breath and took a bite of food, trying to steady herself. "Did you even meet everyone else?"

"Nope." He chewed as well, then waved a hand dismissively. "I told Benedict to handle informing them. But don't worry, I'll meet them when we go back together. First thing I'm doing is seeing Ash. I heard he's better now—"

"Vee."

His name left her lips like the faintest interruption, but it was enough to silence him instantly.

She wasn't looking at him. Her spoon lay gently in the bowl, untouched now. Her fingers were clenched on her lap, the knuckles pale.

"I don't think I can go with you."