The summons was public.
That was the first sign it was a trap.
Aiden read the notice three times, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less final.
Civic Inquiry.
Voluntary Appearance Requested.
Subject: Aiden — Anomalous Influence.
Voluntary.
Seris snorted when she saw it. "They always say that when they want the crowd watching."
Aiden swallowed. "If I don't go—"
"They'll say you're hiding," Liora finished quietly. "If you do go, they'll say you're guilty."
Aiden's wings twitched, tight against his back. "So what do I do?"
Seris met his eyes. "You don't go alone."
---
The square was packed.
Varros had chosen well—midday, when merchants paused, when guild workers passed through, when clergy lingered on their way to sermons. The platform stood where the protest had turned violent days earlier, scrubbed clean but not forgotten.
Aureline arrived precisely on time.
She did not sit.
She stood at the edge of the platform, hands folded, face composed into something that suggested calm rather than certainty. The city watched her closely—too closely.
Varros, by contrast, looked delighted.
He reclined against the railing, one boot propped casually, posture relaxed as if attending a performance rather than orchestrating one.
"Aiden," the herald announced, voice echoing, "is requested to step forward."
The crowd parted.
Aiden walked.
Every step felt louder than the last. He was acutely aware of how he looked—wings folded tight, posture tense, eyes wide with the effort not to react to the weight of attention pressing down on him.
He stopped where indicated.
"State your name," the herald said.
"Aiden," he replied, voice steady despite himself.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Varros clapped once, softly.
"See?" he said pleasantly. "No horns. No fire. Just a young man."
Aureline's jaw tightened.
Varros continued, voice carrying easily. "And yet—wherever he goes, unrest follows. Protests erupt. Faith fractures. Guards hesitate."
He turned toward the crowd. "Tell me—should we ignore such coincidence?"
"No," someone shouted.
"Yes," someone else countered.
Perfect.
Aureline stepped forward. "Coincidence is not guilt."
Varros smiled at her. "Nor is innocence proof of safety."
Aiden's chest burned.
"I didn't cause this," he said, louder than intended. "I didn't ask for any of it."
Varros' eyes flicked to him, interest sharpening.
"Ah," he said gently. "And that, dear boy, is precisely the problem."
---
Above the square, unseen, Caelum leaned against nothing at all, watching with rapt amusement.
"Oh, he's good," Caelum murmured. "He understands the crowd."
His smile widened. "Let's see if the Duchess does."
---
Varros turned back to Aureline, hands spreading in a mockery of openness.
"We have two paths," he said. "One—containment. Temporary restriction. Observation under civic authority."
The crowd murmured approval.
"Two," Varros continued, "we release him back into the city… and accept responsibility for whatever follows."
His gaze locked with Aureline's.
"Choose."
Silence fell.
This was the impossible part.
If Aureline ordered Aiden detained, she legitimized the fear—and Varros' narrative.
If she refused, every future incident would be laid at her feet.
Aureline inhaled slowly.
"Aiden," she said, without looking away from Varros, "have you committed a crime?"
"No," he replied immediately.
"Have you acted with intent to harm?"
"No."
She turned to the crowd. "Then I will not imprison a citizen for existing."
Gasps. Cheers. Shouts of protest.
Varros laughed softly. "Brave."
Aureline raised her voice. "However—"
The crowd stilled.
"—in the interest of public safety, I am ordering a temporary civic escort," she continued. "Protective, not punitive. Oversight, not confinement."
Varros' smile thinned.
"And who," he asked smoothly, "will oversee him?"
Aureline met his gaze. "Me."
The crowd erupted.
---
Seris exhaled sharply. "She just put a target on herself."
Liora's eyes were fixed on Aiden. "And on him."
Aiden felt dizzy.
"I don't want protection," he said.
Aureline finally looked at him then—really looked.
"I know," she said quietly. "But the city needs time. And so do you."
Varros bowed slightly. "Magnificent compromise."
He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to be intimate. "Just remember, Duchess—every escort is also a leash."
Aureline straightened. "And every leash can snap."
---
As guards moved—carefully, visibly non-aggressively—Varros stepped back, already disengaging.
The spectacle was complete.
The message delivered.
Aiden was no longer a rumor.
He was a problem to be managed.
---
That night, Aiden sat alone, staring at the wall.
Seris stood in the doorway. "You held it together."
"I hated it," he whispered.
"Yes," she said. "That means you're still you."
He looked up. "What happens now?"
Seris didn't sugarcoat it. "Now they test you. Publicly. Privately. They'll wait for you to fail."
His hands trembled. "And if I do?"
She stepped forward, firm. "Then we don't let them define what that means."
---
Above the city, Caelum laughed quietly.
"Oh, Varros," he said fondly. "You've made him visible."
His gaze drifted to Aureline, then back to Aiden.
"And you," Caelum murmured, "have just learned the most dangerous lesson of all."
He spread his wings slightly, savoring the moment.
"Being right doesn't protect you."
The board was set.
The pieces were named.
And the next move would not be bloodless.
---