Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 483. Visiting The Market IV
Angel remained silent. Watching.
Roric felt that gaze like a blade hovering near his ribs.
"I have consumed those tonics for years," he continued. "Yet the problem persists."
Rose glanced at him then, subtle but direct.
"You said they kind of helped," she said. "But you do not sound convinced."
He felt heat rise under his skin.
Because he was not convinced.
Because this morning was the first time in years his head felt clear without swallowing something Seraphine had sent him.
He forced a breath.
"They reduce the pain temporarily," he said. "But… I am not sure they are suitable."
Rose's brow lifted slightly.
"Not suitable?"
He wished he could say it plainly.
I think they are poisoning me.
I think my mind is being altered.
I think I am losing myself.
Instead, he said, "I sometimes feel… slower. After taking them."
There.
A fraction of truth.
Rose slowed her pace just slightly, forcing them to drift closer to a stall selling carved wooden figurines.
"And the battle?" she asked softly. "Do you remember it clearly?"
His chest tightened.
The battle.
Flashes. Steel clashing. Smoke. Shouting. Blood.
Then fog.
"I remember winning," he said. "I do not remember the moment after."
He hated admitting that.
A prince forgetting.
A general losing memory of victory.
Weakness.
Humiliation.
Angel finally spoke.
"Memory gaps after head trauma are common," Angel said casually, as if commenting on weather. "But they usually heal."
Roric's throat felt dry. "Yes." He forced a small laugh. "Mine did not."
He could hear how hollow it sounded.
They turned into a quieter street branching from the main square. Fewer vendors. Less noise. The sound of a distant fountain trickling against stone.
His mind drifted.
This street.
The angle of sunlight.
The cobblestones.
Blurred memory surged again.
Night.
Empty.
Jane's carriage.
He was chasing it.
Why?
He could almost hear the echo of hooves in darkness. His own breath ragged. A shout caught in his throat.
The present bled into the past for a second.
He blinked hard.
Rose noticed.
"You are thinking of something," she said gently.
He exhaled slowly.
"There are… other symptoms," he admitted.
"Such as?"
He hesitated.
The truth trembled at the edge of his voice.
"I sometimes feel… divided," he said carefully. "As if two thoughts exist at once."
Angel's gaze sharpened.
"In what way?"
Roric stared at a crack in the stone wall ahead.
"One thought is mine," he said slowly. "And the other feels… planted."
Rose did not react outwardly. But he saw it. The faint tightening around her eyes.
"Planted," she repeated softly.
He nodded.
"There are moments," he continued, "when I look at someone I once trusted… and feel hostility that does not belong to me."
Jane's face flashed in his mind.
Her smile when they were children. The way she used to pull him toward the training yard just to watch him practice.
And then…
The sick twist of rage that had surged in him when she returned.
The urge to drive her away. To destroy the problem she represented.
He swallowed hard.
"I thought it was grief," he said quietly. "Or betrayal. Or guilt."
"And now?" Rose asked.
"Now I am not certain."
The wind stirred lightly through the narrow street, brushing strands of hair across his forehead.
This morning.
The clarity.
The absence of pain.
It felt like waking from underwater.
"I did not drink the tonic last night," he said suddenly.
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
He froze.
Rose did not look surprised.
"And how do you feel today?" she asked.
He almost laughed.
"I feel… like myself. A bit."
There it was.
The raw truth.
For the first time, he let himself say it.
Angel watched him closely.
"And for years before this morning?" Angel asked quietly.
Roric's jaw tightened. "I felt like someone else was standing behind my eyes."
Silence fell between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Heavy.
Rose slowed to a stop near the fountain. The water spilled gently from stone mouths shaped like boars, catching sunlight and scattering it into shimmering patterns across the ground.
She turned to face him fully now.
"When you consume the tonic," she asked softly, "does the pain vanish entirely?"
"No."
"Does the fog increase after?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
Angel's voice was calm but edged now.
"And if you stop taking it?"
"I have not stopped," Roric admitted. "Until last night."
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