Back in his room, Caspian let out a breath. The elders of the Kasir clan had given him a lot to think about. He felt way out of his depth.
He stripped off his upper clothing and glanced down at his belly. The crack hadn't grown still only a thin line etched into his skin. He sat on the floor, the way he used to in Heka's cave, and closed his eyes.
Hands clasped together. This was something Heka had taught him to strengthen the seal, to keep his energy in check.
A few minutes passed before he opened his eyes. He felt clearer now.
Based on his current calculations, he had about a month. Maybe two. That was how long he had before the seal failed and he perished. The elders had told him the sword was in the capital. And the capital on the fastest route was nearly three weeks away. That was if nothing went wrong. And things always went wrong.
There was also the matter of the Tahran. Apparently, they were guarding the sword and wanted it for themselves. And Caspian still wasn't sure what the Kasir clan really wanted.
He sighed, thoughts turning over and over in his mind.
He stood up and walked to the window opposite his bed. The sun was setting. The sky looked tired painted in soft orange and fading pink. Down below, people walked through the streets .
The possibility that he might not survive was very real. But if he did if he somehow made it through he would have the power of a god.
He would be free.
He would stand at the peak.
He could do anything he wanted.
He would get revenge on all of them. Every single one who made his life miserable just for being born.
He looked down at his hands.
He remembered them coated in his mother's blood. It had run down his bare arms when he carried her body. She had given her life for him. And he had betrayed her by wanting to die.
He had walked into that cave, sure he would meet his end. Willingly. Without having avenged her. On a mission sent by the very people who had murdered her.
His hands curled against the windowsill.
No. He had survived.
And he would keep surviving.
He would not die.
Not until he had his revenge.
Much later, there was a knock on the door.
Caspian opened it to find Seti standing there, calm as ever.
"For the journey we start tomorrow," Seti said, "the clan has assigned some people for your protection and aid."
His gaze lingered on Caspian, unreadable. There was something about him that reminded Caspian of an old general.
Caspian raised a brow. "People?"
He stepped aside, allowing Seti to enter. "I don't want the attention a large group would attract."
"It's not a large group," Seti replied, stepping inside as Caspian shut the door behind him. "Five of us. Traveling in two pairs, with one person riding ahead to scout."
Caspian exhaled slowly. "I don't know if I trust your clan enough for this..."
"We truly mean you no harm," Seti said, voice steady. It sounded like he had said those words a thousand times before but not like a rehearsed line. He said like it was some truth Caspian just to question needlessly.
Caspian wanted to believe him. Gods, he wanted to. But the scars from the last time he trusted too easily hadn't faded yet.
He sighed again. "Okay."
"Come down for dinner," Seti said. "Meet them."
Caspian nodded. He didn't ask for names. Didn't ask what they were like.
"I'll come get you when it's time."
Caspian nodded again. He watched Seti leave without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.
Alone, Caspian decided to freshen up.
Soft garments had been brought in earlier clearly the highest quality. He squeezed one of the silk robes and released it; it didn't rumple. The weave was that fine. There was a surprising variety laid out too.
Absentmindedly, he noted he was being treated far better here than he ever had been at the castle.
He rose and walked into the bathroom. The other times he'd been in there, he'd carefully avoided the tall mirror along the far wall. Now, he walked toward it.
His reflection was almost unfamiliar.
He had cut his hair low before leaving on his mission, shaved it down with a soldier's precision. Now, months later, it had grown long enough that when tied up, it reached just past his shoulder blades.
He couldn't remember when he'd last used a strip of cloth to bind it. He undid the knot and let the hair fall loose, it's naturally formed dread locs framing his face like a dark curtain.
He looked… mad. Wild, almost.
His face bore only slight stubble his hair grew slow, It grew faster on his head very slow anywhere else.
Looking down, he spotted a small wooden cabinet. On top of it, grooming supplies had been neatly arranged.
He turned back to the mirror. Tilted his head.
He'd keep the hair. He liked it this way. It made him look more... him. A man far removed from the Prince Caspian who had once sat in royal chambers, silent and obedient.
With that, he got to work.
By the time the knock came, he was dressed and composed. He adjusted the dark blue robes he'd chosen. They were formal, more than he was used to woven through with intricate silver patterns. He wondered if it was too much.
At the door, he hesitated. Straightened. Took a breath. And opened it.
Seti stood there—and he looked different too.
He wore close-fitting black robes, subtle but elegant. A golden collar framed his neck, and a large gold earring glinted from his right ear. Slim rings adorned his fingers, and his hair had been braided neatly back.
The changes suited him. Made him look taller, more severe. The angles of his face caught the light like sculpted stone.
Caspian's earlier nervousness surged again.
For a few moments, Seti just looked at him one eye golden, the other dark as a void.
"Follow me," Seti said, and turned immediately.
Caspian exhaled. Then followed.
The night was bitter with cold. Something ominous about it.
From their vantage point on the ridge, they could see the high walls of the eastern city looming like a shadow against the stars. The gates stood silent.
The older brother pulled his cloak tighter and turned to his sibling. A nod passed between them. He brought out a small orb usually dull gray but now glowing softly in his palm, casting eerie light into the hollow between them.
"Master," he whispered, "we have tracked him as you instructed. We wait just beyond the city gates."
The orb floated up from his hand and began to spin slowly in the air.
A voice answered them dispassionate.
"They will come out. Do not go in. When they do… attack as you see fit."
"As is your will, it shall be done," they answered, voices as one.
There was a pause. Then their master added, almost lightly:
"Remember to say your prayers before."
The orb dropped back into the elder's waiting palm.
Their eyes met. They nodded again, silent agreement in the dark.