The quarters assigned to Kaien were exactly what he had expected. They were functional, sterile, and utterly hostile to magic. The room was all sharp corners and gray surfaces, furnished with a bed that resembled a medical cot and a desk that looked designed for calculating artillery trajectories. A single window offered a view of Oakhaven’s geometric perfection, the city lights forming grids that extended to the horizon.

Kaien stood at that window for a long moment, feeling the oppressive weight of the anti-magic wards. In Zhenya, magic was as natural as breathing, woven into every aspect of daily life. For the first time in days, he felt he could not take a full breath. Here, magic was treated like a contaminant, something to be filtered from the air. He pressed his palm against the glass, feeling its cold, dead surface. It had no warmth, no spirit, and no connection to anything living. It was just processed materials assembled with precision, functional and soulless.

This is what they want to impose on the world, he thought. Order without life. Function without beauty.

A thin layer of condensation formed around his hand where his body heat met the cool glass. Kaien stared at it, then made a decision that would have horrified his guards if they had been watching. He traced a single character onto the moisture, using the oldest and simplest form of magic he knew. The gesture itself was the spell, a whisper of intention made manifest through a symbol. The ambient wards were designed to suppress overt, powerful magic, not the quiet dialogue between a spirit-caller and the world.

For exactly three seconds, a tiny frost flower bloomed on the glass. Its crystalline petals spread in delicate fractal patterns, each one unique and impossible. It was a small piece of winter existing where it had no right to be. Then the room’s temperature controls detected the anomaly, adjusted the heating, and the flower melted back to water.

But for those three seconds, Kaien had been himself.

He smiled at the wet streaks running down the glass. It was rebellion on the smallest scale, meaningless in the grand calculation of politics and power. And yet it mattered. They could build their cages of logic and steel, but they could not cage what he was. Not completely.

He was contemplating this small victory when a polite, firm knock sounded at his door. A moment later, Aric entered, flanked by two guards.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Aric said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The council requires a final security verification before our departure.”

It was a blatant lie, an excuse to invade his privacy and assert dominance. One of the guards began sweeping the room with a detector, the same kind Aric had used earlier.

Kaien inclined his head, his expression a mask of detached amusement. “Of course. One can never be too careful.” He remained by the window, forcing Aric to cross the room to him.

“My instruments detected a minor energy fluctuation from this room,” Aric stated, his gaze fixed on Kaien.

“Did they?” Kaien feigned innocence. “Perhaps it was a side effect of your city’s oppressive atmosphere. It gives me headaches.”

Aric’s eyes narrowed, shifting to the window where faint streaks of water were still visible. He knew. Kaien was sure of it. But he had no proof, nothing his machines could quantify. It was a small, perfect act of defiance that existed just outside the bounds of his enemy’s rigid worldview.

“The journey will be long,” Aric said, changing tactics. “Any attempts to use your… persuasive abilities… on my soldiers will be met with immediate consequences.”

“I would never dream of it,” Kaien replied, his voice smooth as silk. “They seem far too disciplined for entertaining conversation anyway.”

The guard finished his sweep, reporting that the room was clear of any magical artifacts or residual signatures. The frost flower had left no trace.

“See to it that you are ready by dawn,” Aric commanded before turning to leave.

“I will be,” Kaien said to his retreating. “And Prince Aric? Do try to get some sleep. You look tense.”

The door closed, leaving Kaien alone once more. His heart was beating faster than he liked, a mix of triumph and adrenaline. The frost flower had not been a grand display, but in this direct, silent confrontation, it had felt like a significant victory. He had proven to himself, and to Aric, that even in a cage, he was not entirely powerless.

He had survived worse than architectural hostility. He had survived his mother’s court. This, by comparison, was merely inconvenient.

Across the complex, Aric sat at his desk, surrounded by intelligence reports. His quarters were larger but just as Spartan. The reports told the story of Prince Kaien Liyang in data points and verified incidents. He was not just a diplomat. He was a weapon disguised as a prince, trained in psychological warfare masquerading as charm.

Aric made notes in precise handwriting. Subtle influence. Playing on emotions. Finding and exploiting psychological vulnerabilities.

He thought of the moisture on the window, a detail too small for his instruments to flag as magical. He had no proof, but he knew what it meant. Kaien was testing him, pushing against the boundaries of his control in small, deniable ways. The journey to the Lotus Veil would be days of close proximity and carefully orchestrated psychological pressure. It was a good plan, logical and based on verified data.

So why did he feel a nagging sense that he was missing something critical? His mind kept replaying the way Kaien had stood by the window, so perfectly calm, his smile a beautiful and infuriating mask.

Focus, Aric commanded himself. He is trying to make you see him as a person instead of a threat.

He could not afford to see Kaien as anything but the enemy. Even if some treacherous part of his mind kept remembering that smile and thinking it had been the most honest thing he had seen all day.