Dark Moon Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 511. Patterns IV

Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 511. Patterns IV

Jane’s shoulders curled in slightly. “My father. My stepmother. Roric. Pontus. You and Angel came here as guests.”

Rose placed the cup down carefully. Porcelain touched wood with a soft click. “Jane.”

The way she said her name made Jane look up.

Rose’s eyes were steady. “We also have a connection to this problem.”

Jane blinked. “What do you mean?”

Rose hesitated.

Not because she did not know how to answer.

Because saying too much could open doors they could not close.

“Your stepmother…”

She stopped.

Jane leaned forward slightly. “What about her?”

Rose’s gaze flicked toward the empty center of the room.

Then the air changed.

It happened before either of them heard anything.

The candle flames shivered.

The shadows along the far wall stretched unnaturally, like someone had pulled them with invisible hooks. The temperature dipped so suddenly Jane’s breath caught in her throat.

Dark aura flared in the room.

Denser than before.

Not smooth.

Not elegant.

Strained.

The air folded inward with a heavy pulse.

Angel appeared.

And this time, he staggered.

Just one step.

But for Angel, one step was enough to mean something was wrong.

Rose was already moving before Jane fully registered it. She crossed the room in an instant and caught his arm, one hand pressing against his chest to steady him.

No questions.

Only action.

Angel’s hand briefly touched the edge of the table. His fingers tightened against the wood, knuckles pale beneath his glove. “I’m fine,” he said.

Rose looked up at him.

Her face said very clearly that he was not.

Jane stood slowly, heart pounding.

Angel’s breathing was controlled, but heavier than usual. There was a faint grayness under his eyes, almost invisible unless someone knew what to look for. Dark threads of magic still clung to his cloak for a few seconds before dissolving into the floor like smoke.

Rose kept her hand against his chest. “You’re not fine.”

“I’m standing.”

“That’s not the standard.”

Angel’s lips twitched faintly.

Even exhausted.

He still tried to be difficult.

Rose guided him toward the chair. He did not resist, which worried her more. Angel sat down slowly, shoulders still straight because apparently death itself would need a signed royal decree before he slouched.

Jane remained where she stood. “Your Majesty…”

Angel looked toward her. “I’m fine, Jane.”

She did not believe him either.

Rose touched his wrist, checking his pulse. Her fingers glowed faintly with healing light, gentle and warm, though she used barely enough for anyone outside the room to detect.

Angel gave her a look. “Rose.”

“Be quiet.”

He obeyed.

Jane’s eyes widened slightly. Not because Rose spoke sharply, but because Angel actually listened.

Rose’s brows drew together. “You used too much.”

“Possibly.”

“Not possibly. Definitely.”

Angel leaned back slightly, closing his eyes for half a breath. “I got it to Edwin.”

Rose’s fingers stilled. “The royal alchemist?”

“Yes.”

Jane stepped closer. “And?”

Angel opened his eyes again. “He confirmed enough.”

The room went very still.

Rose’s expression shifted instantly from concern to focus. “What did he find?”

Angel exhaled slowly. “Not ordinary poison. Not simple spellwork. A compound with layered magical influence. Mind manipulation. Emotional redirection. Long-term suggestibility.”

Jane’s face paled.

Rose looked down briefly, jaw tightening.

“So Roric was right.”

“Yes.”

Jane’s hands rose to her mouth, but she stopped before touching her lips. Her fingers hovered there, trembling faintly. “He wasn’t losing himself,” she whispered.

“No,” Angel said quietly. “Someone was taking him apart slowly.”

Jane closed her eyes.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Relief and horror tangled together so tightly it was impossible to separate them.

Rose resumed checking Angel’s condition, though her voice remained steady. “Can Edwin make a cure?”

“He believes so.”

“Believes?”

“He needs time.”

Rose nodded slowly. “How long?”

“Half a day if he terrifies enough apprentices.”

Despite everything, Jane let out a tiny stunned breath that almost became a laugh.

Rose did not laugh. Her gaze sharpened. “What else?”

Angel looked at her.

Rose knew him too well. “What are you not saying?”

Angel’s silence lasted a fraction too long.

Jane noticed.

Rose definitely noticed.

Angel finally said, “The tonic carries old shadow discipline. Bloodline resonance.”

Rose’s eyes darkened.

Jane looked between them. “What does that mean?”

Rose answered slowly. “It means Seraphine’s magic is not borrowed casually. It is inherited.”

Jane’s lips parted.

Angel added, “And old.”

The word landed heavily.